Once upon a time, being
shamed acted as a natural deterrent to bad
behaviour. A time when
being caught in wrongdoing meant
facing societal rejection and personal disgrace. But today, Kenya is
increasingly becoming a society in
which it seems the less shame one
feels for their actions, the more celebrated they are.
From senior government officials to social media influencers, and even ordinary citizens,
shamelessness is fast becoming a
badge of honour.
Take the ongoing fiasco with Nairobi’s roads as an example. Shortly
after the completion of the Nairobi
Expressway, it became evident the
lower part of Mombasa Road needed a complete overhaul.
Instead of implementing a long- term, well-thought-out solution, someone at
the Ministry of Roads allegedly saw
an opportunity to ‘eat’.
A contract was floated for the
supply of red soil along the stretch
from Nyayo Stadium to Bellevue,
turning the road into a dust bowl.
Predictably, another tender was
issued months later, this time for
planting flowers. Never mind that,
in its unprotected state, the flowers stood zero chance of survival.
Millions were sunk into a project
doomed to fail, yet no one flinched.
Where did the money go? Who
signed off on these contracts? These
are questions that should provoke
outrage. Yet, in our new era of being
impervious to right behaviour
and righteous criticism, such blatant wastage of taxpayer money is met
with resignation, even admiration
in some quarters.
The officials responsible sit smugly in their offices,
patting themselves on the back for
once again fooling the public.
Meanwhile, that same stretch
of road, meant to be the face of our
capital city, has become an open defaecation zone, a makeshift dumping
site, and home to street families.
We
pretend not to see. Even when signs
reading ‘Usikojoe Hapa’ (‘Do not urinate here’) are erected, these very
spots are turned into public
toilets. Shamelessness reigns supreme.
Apart from government, the culture of shamelessness has permeated
our everyday lives. On social media,
the surest way to gain followers is to
do something outrageous.
Insults,
reckless stunts, public humiliation
— nothing is off-limits or considered
in bad taste. Doing ‘the right thing’
is seen as boring.
Even elected leaders have caught on, knowing that
a ridiculous stunt will gain them
more attention than meaningful legislation. And it’s not just online. We
see it in everyday interactions: People throwing garbage out of oving
cars; motorists overlapping in traffic
with zero regard for rules; religious
leaders making a spectacle of their
faith because theatrics sells; shamelessness is not only accepted — it is
often rewarded.
As the Leonard Mambo Mbotela
used to ask, “Je, huu ni ungwana?”
(“Is this proper conduct?”). That
question is more relevant today than
ever.
We argue about everything in
this country, yet the one conversation we never have is about discipline. The idea that ‘the end justifies
the means’ is choking our nation.
Corruption, lawlessness, and moral
decay are all symptoms of a deeper disease — our collective loss of
shame. It starts with doing the small
‘right things’: stop littering; stay in
your lane in traffic; follow basic social etiquette.
Kenya must decide:
will we continue down this path
where wrongdoing, both large-scale
and petty, is normalised, or will we
reclaim our lost sense of decency?