I have known Stephen Kinyanjui Kirogo as a consummate public service professional since the 1990s.
This man — whom I never heard raise his voice — had exemplary leadership qualities. Whether it was a firm word on the need to prepare for retirement, a hint on viable investment opportunities, parenting or spiritual life, Kirogo did not spare any effort to ensure officers serving under him also remained respectable members of society.
I first interacted with Kirogo while serving as the Officer Commanding Anti-Stock-Theft Unit, Mobile Operations Group at Ng’arua Police Station in Laikipia West subcounty. He was on leave while serving as a district officer either in West Pokot or Northeastern.
The humble man he was, Kirogo never introduced himself but the demeanour told me he was a senior government officer. He was following up on a complaint from a member of public. Bandits had stolen 11 cattle from an elderly widow who had three children in school and two grandchildren to look after: The stolen cattle were their only source of livelihood.
Those days, shortage of fuel and dry ration were regular. It was, therefore, the silent practice that if you lost cattle to bandits, you would be requested to ‘assist’ in the investigations.
This was a very tricky affair for the field commanders because it was expressly against government policy to ask victims of crime to share the cost of investigations. If the victim was well to do, it was not a big deal but it got really complicated when it happened to be a poor peasant like the widow I am talking about.
One risked serious graft accusations, not forgetting you could not offer any guarantee that after spending the meagre resources left behind by the criminals, you will at the very least recover the stolen animals.
It was, therefore, common practice that after initial investigations, the case would be left pending, even where there was a possibility the animals could be recovered and the thieves brought to book.
These are the circumstance under which Kirogo came to the police station. Once he understood my predicament, he supported a team of 10 officers from his pocket and fuelled two vehicles for 11 days nonstop. On the 12th day, we recovered the stolen cattle and restored them to the widow: To date, I feel the satisfaction I derived from that operation nearly 30 years ago.
Surprisingly, the widow was not even his relative and never got to know where the resources came from. When Kirogo was appointed Public Service Commission chairman, I remembered this incident and sincerely felt he was a great choice for the position. This is because he understood public service in a manner very few people do.
In 2016, I was deployed in the Cabinet Affairs Office as the government spokesperson. Kirogo had then risen to be the Principal Administrative Secretary in that office and thus my immediate supervisor. On government communication, he verbalised a situation I had observed throughout my career in words like, “It is a poorly kept secret that senior administrators deceive, not really in what they say, but more often in what they won’t say. For example, a boss need not be primitive enough to lie that you are lazy and dishonest: He or she just needs to fail to say that you are hardworking and honest — the result for your career is the same.”
While guiding in the public communications function, Kirogo prescribed acute sensitivity to the moral implications of deception and its longer-term term impact on sustainable public confidence on the very concept of government.
While strenuously expounding on government responsibility to remain credible on the eyes of the citizen, Kirogo used to caution that contrary to the narrative that populations have a short memory, lies —whether spoken or apparent — kill public confidence in the very idea of government and are the first symptoms of a failing state.
Instead of making short-lived impressions, Kirogo believed civil servants should maintain public trust by fundamentally demonstrating integrity in the laid down accountability structures and resisting the temptation to govern by euphoria.
Finally, I knew Kirogo as an innate national security professional. In one of the few instances, I ever saw him display irritation, we were discussing police reforms and it was my position that we had made good progress. He asked me one question that bothers me to date: “In which part of Kenya can I see and experience a reformed police station?”
It’s a pity I never got to answer that question until Kirogo passed away on the May 14. He surely fought the good fight and kept the faith.
Eric Kiraithe is the Principal Administrative Secretary, Ministry of ICT, Innovation and Youth Affairs
