• To the casual reader, the most fascinating things about Njonjo was his long-standing “trademark” style of dressing
• However, of greater historical interest is that during the first few decades of Kenyan independence, he served as Attorney General for over 15 years, and under two presidents
Like the citizens of most other nations, Kenyans are quick to forget their leaders once they leave public office.
It is thus something of a surprise that Charles Mugane Njonjo — “Sir Charles” to his friends and enemies alike — retained a grip on the public imagination, four decades after he resigned as the Minister for Constitutional Affairs in 1983.
Now, a mention of his resignation immediately brings to light one of his many controversies. His critics will insist that he did not resign, but was sacked by President Daniel Moi.
But that is just the way it was during the single-party state. For those in high office, the trend was that if you handed in your written resignation, news of it was easily suppressed as a letter dismissing you with immediate effect was sent to the state-owned public broadcaster, the Kenya Broadcasting Corporation.
The public would hear of your “sacking” for the next few days, while your resignation would remain unknown.
Only the most diligent historians in later years would know that you had resigned first and that you had subsequently been “dismissed”.
WORLD-CLASS PLAYER ON GLOBAL POLITICAL CHESSBOARD
To the casual reader, the most fascinating things about Njonjo, who turned 100 on Thursday, is his trademark dressing style.
Njonjo showed a preference for striped three-piece suits (with his initials reputedly woven into the stripes, suggesting the fabric was made to order).
Then there is the inevitable fresh rosebud pinned on the lapel of his coats – indicating required hundreds of such every year since he needed a fresh one every day.
Finally, the waistcoat golden fob chain, of which he was perhaps the only Kenyan to continue wearing into the 21st century.
But personal choices in clothing and accessories are only a small part of the Njonjo mythology.
Of greater historical interest is that during the first few decades of Kenyan Independence, he served as Attorney General for over 15 years and under two presidents. He worked for founding President Jomo Kenyatta and his successor and long-serving Vice President, Daniel Moi. Later, he served as the Minister for Constitutional Affairs under Moi.
During this time, he was to prove himself to be a world-class player on the global political chessboard. His contacts and influence reached far beyond Kenyan national borders.
Nowhere was this made clearer than in his role in helping the government of Israel to successfully rescue the mostly Israeli hostages who were being held by terrorists inside a hijacked plane at Entebbe Airport in Uganda in July 1976.
This legendary rescue mission (the subject of many movies and documentaries) was conducted by Israeli commandos led by Colonel Yonatan Netanyahu, brother of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.
Indeed, it has been argued that the PM launched his career in politics on the fame of his martyred brother, a national hero who was the only one of the rescuers to die during this mission.
A GREAT FRIEND OF ISRAEL
In Operation Thunderbolt: The Most Audacious Hostage Rescue Mission in History by British military historian and broadcaster Saul David, Njonjo’s role in this rescue is made plain.
Here is an extract from a review of the book written for the Star by Joe Adama in March 2016:
"Njonjo’s close ties to the Israelis were for the most part unknown in Kenya, even to the Special Branch and the rest of the national security apparatus of the day. The Israelis and [Bruce] McKenzie consulted him on crucially important strategic matters and valued his input.
David reports Njonjo saying, “We are happy to assist you, but you must realise that we can never admit publicly that this meeting took place. It would not make us popular with the other members of the OAU who, as you know, have a strong anti-Israel bias. When we are asked if we knew about your plans in advance, we’ll deny any knowledge. We’ll simply say that you asked permission to refuel at Nairobi at the last minute and that we agreed out of humanitarian considerations. The fewer people that know about this the better, which is why I haven’t even consulted my Cabinet colleagues.”
“I see,” responded the Israeli. “Well, thank you, Mr Njonjo, you’re doing us a great service. Is there anything we can do for you?”
Njonjo paused, the first faint trace of a smile on his lips. “There is one thing you can do for us. If [Ugandan dictator, Field Marshall Idi] Amin gets wind of what we’ve done, he might try a revenge attack. But it will have much less chance of success if you’ve already destroyed his air force.”
“You mean his MiGs?”
“Yes.”
“I think we can manage that.”
“And if, of course, Amin happens to be at the airport and is killed during the operation, that would be a bonus.”
“For us too,” the Israeli said.
This breathtaking exchange of views and suggestions between Barak and Njonjo has not been made public for 40 years – until now. By speaking to Barak and Harari in these terms and making these very specific requests, Njonjo was actually speaking directly to the much-admired but also dreaded, because super-efficient, Israeli secret service, the Mossad.
David explains the context and the implications in the following words:
“The two sides shook hands on a deal that, had it been made public, would have badly damaged Kenya’s credibility in the eyes of its fellow OAU members: not only was Kenya plotting with a country that had been blacklisted by the OAU but the chief target of the plot, President Idi Amin of Uganda, was the serving [chairman] of the OAU (albeit one who was coming to the end of his year in office). . . .
“For the Kenyans, the agreement promised sweet revenge for Amin’s recent hostility . . . in the form of an Israeli attack on his international airport and the destruction of his air force which would tip the local military balance in Kenya’s favour. Amin’s assassination would be the icing on the cake.”
HOW THEN WAS IT POSSIBLE FOR NJONJO TO BE SO POWERFUL?
In the current political dispensation, it is unthinkable that any Kenyan Attorney General would – purely on his own initiative – so much as contemplate such a discussion with agents of a foreign government, let alone Israel’s dreaded Mossad.
How then was it possible for Njonjo to be so powerful?
Perhaps the best answer to this question is provided by Fitzval de Souza, an independence-era Kenyan lawyer and politician of Asian descent, who had virtually been forgotten prior to the release of his memoir, Forward to Independence: My Memoirs.
Being from a Kenyan racial minority that was considered to be non-threatening by the top players in Kenyan politics, he was privy to insider details of the 1960s and early 1970s, especially in the years when de Souza served as Deputy Speaker in Parliament.
Extracts from de Souza, Fitzval. Forward to Independence: My Memoirs. Kindle Edition.
“…at Tom Mboya’s request and with Kenyatta’s assent, Charles Njonjo… was handed one of the most powerful positions in Kenya. He would even in a sense come to exercise more control than the President himself. Kenyatta did not attend to the day-to-day business of running the country. Njonjo was quite happy to do so. Why? Because he was ambitious and with it, very clever…
In a relatively short space of time, through force of personality and the widespread belief that he was close to Kenyatta, the whole judiciary was effectively being run by Njonjo… With such power, he could arrest anybody at any time.
…I had never really been close to Moi, though we had met on and off over the years. He had always seemed to me a very simple person; either that or a good actor.
I recalled now the day I had been standing next to him by the docket stairs in Parliament. A car had drawn up outside and Charles Njonjo had put his head out and called, ‘Moi, come here.’
Moi raced down the steps and Njonjo said, ‘I’ve heard a new story today,’ to which Moi replied eagerly, ‘Tell me, tell me Charles, what is it?’ Njonjo then recited something to the effect of: ‘Oh God, help me from my friends, because my enemies I know, but my friends I don’t.’ Moi laughed heartily. ‘Oh Charles, you are such a very clever man, you always say these very clever things,’ and he carried on laughing until Njonjo had driven off again.
I thought, is Moi really so simple? – we’ve all heard this saying many times. I then realised he was just playing up to him. Njonjo was a very powerful man, and for Moi to become President, he needed his support. At the same time Njonjo probably thought he was using Moi for the same end. Neither were fools, and it was just a question of who was going to get rid of whom first.”
For about three years, between 2014-16 Njonjo wrote a monthly column for the Weekend Star.
It was invariably one of the most popular features of the Siasa pullout, which was devoted to political analyses.
Of particular significance was that in a country where political pundits pride themselves on being merciless to those in high places, he never once had anything negative to say about the two presidents he served. Nor yet did he ever criticise President Mwai Kibaki or Uhuru Kenyatta, both of whom are no doubt very well known to him.
The value of his essays then, lies in the views he expressed on various topical issues.
Njonjo died on January 2nd,2022. He was cremated a few hours later.