Can Our Parliament protect democracy?
The flip side of that question is, where are our current iteration of the “seven bearded sisters?” For those too young to know, the seven bearded sisters was a moniker coined by the late friend and statesman Sir Charles Njonjo to describe dissident members of the Kenyan Parliament during Jomo Kenyatta's reign.
No, Njonjo was never knighted as a British noble, but he was more British than most Britons—but that’s a story for another day.
The men and women Njonjo memorably slapped this moniker included the now Governor James Orengo, Lawrence Sifuna who recently passed on, Koigi wa Wamwere, Wasike Ndombi, Mwachofi Mwashegu, Abuya Abuya and Chibule Wa Tsuma.
Many in the group had a good doze of “fanya fujo uone”, ranging from arrests and beatings, to fleeing the country to exile or otherwise having their political careers cut shot—at least for that time.
You have to give it to Njonjo for having come up with that moniker as it was both comical, but also a reflection of the mentality of the government of the day and in this case, those who made it possible for that government to exist in the first place.
It is one of the many musings I had with Njonjo during visits with him. I had the privilege to savour a lot while he was alive and active.
Despite the moniker’s inference—some would say derogatorily, the bearded sisters were all men. A sister, the firebrand Chelegat Mutai would, come to be associated with the group, but that was later.
Not all these men were bearded either; Njonjo was merely trying to make the case they were all communists driven by Karl Marx's ideology. Count among themGeorge Moseti Anyona who preceded these brave nationalists with his version of firebrand politics that had the government of the day sweating and could only rebut his fiery takedowns, mostly exposing corruption in Parliament by sending him to jail.
Communists or not, the men and later women stood tall as the giants fighting in Parliament for ordinary Kenyans.
They were unafraid to hold the government of the day’s feet to the fire.
The group had many things in common, but three that proved more valuable and served all of them and the country well were their incorruptibility, great intellect and willingness to sacrifice everything for the sake of advancing freedom and democracy for the masses.
Who is there now, meaning, in Parliament, ready to sacrifice everything for the sake of advancing freedom and democracy for the masses?
Where did the bravery among fearless politicians go?
Is there any difference now with the separation of powers more defined and entrenched in the constitution than we had during the imperial presidencies of Jomo and Daniel Arap Moi?
What does it say about our Parliament when we have men and women elected in the opposition parties trooping to State House or drooling to get there for the infamous brown envelopes?
It should be a crime for an MP from the opposition to say they are trooping to State House because they want to work with the government for development projects in their respective constituencies.
This is moronic, for two reasons.
First, under our constitution, developing a constituency, county or region is not a favour from the party in power. When a president is sworn in—never mind elected, the president is supposed to serve all Kenyans. A president who understands and respects this simple fact can go far in developing a nation than one who doesn’t.
Second, even if it were the case that an MP has to go begging for the development of his or her constituency at State House, it doesn’t mean that they abandon their roles as members of the opposition to fight not just for their constituents, but for the country.
If there is not a reemergence of strong, fearless men and women with at least half the courage of the seven bearded sisters, we may find ourselves thrown back to the 60s, 70s, 80s and 90s when Parliament was irrelevant and only dance to the whims of the president.