Dispatch from Kenya: Global Atlanta on the ground during historic protests in Kenya

Editor’s note: Trevor Williams has just returned from a reporting trip to Africa, where he inadvertently found himself embroiled in widespread protests in Kenya against the government’s finance bill of June 25.

“Are you going to write about our revolution?”

The question seemed far-fetched to me as it was posed to me at an Italian dinner the evening I arrived in Nairobi. The town seemed quiet on the road leading to the hotel. The streets were busy, not violent. I had walked past a tower adorned with the Oracle emblem on my way to a meeting and stopped at a bustling mall where customers were shopping and friends were chatting happily.

But on Tuesday, on the way back from Nyandaruajust northwest of town, it quickly became apparent that I had chosen the wrong time to travel in a government-marked vehicle.

Days of simmering anger against the so-called finance bill had erupted, and the entire country erupted in protest. Led by “Generation Z,” a term I was surprised to see applied to young people here, the movement was largely peaceful and grassroots. No centralized opposition seemed to be running things, but rather widespread angst over the hugely unpopular proposal put to Parliament’s vote that day.

By talking to lots of people – the benefit of visiting a country where English is widely spoken – I began to piece together evidence as to why the bill was so controversial. A provision added a tax on ancestral lands previously exempt. Another, which later came back, imposed a tax on sanitary products used by women in a country that one young woman told me already had “period poverty.” A 16 percent tax on bread and another on cooking oil were also removed.

On the business side, the Kenya National Chamber of Commerce Kenya had rejected the new VAT provisions, arguing that they would undermine productivity. The government listened and incorporated some of these changes. Attracting foreign investment is key to overcoming the dilemma at the heart of the Kenyan economy: you need to stimulate growth to attract more revenue, but you also need a strong balance sheet to guarantee security for investors.

In general, however, the concessions were seen as too little, too late. Atlanta’s new darling, the president William Rutohad become persona non grata with many of his people. One woman told me she didn’t want to hate anyone, “but I hate him.” Rather than paint her nails, she had had to start reading the law and studying the constitution. The new budget created an office for the first lady, fueling fears of nepotism and fruitless travel. She cited Ruto’s alleged lavish lifestyle and past investigations by the International Penal Court as additional reasons why he should not only change the bill, but also leave office altogether: “You have to go, brother. »

A taxi driver – one such source of political wisdom – said the public called Ruto “Mr. Liar” and none of the promised infrastructure projects have materialised, leaving people wondering where the jobs will spontaneously materialise.

This lack of trust, this breakdown of the pact between those who govern and those who are governed, seems to be at the origin of this unprecedented reaction. While the proposed levies were ostensibly part of a plan to satisfy the IMF by raising $2.7 billion and shoring up a national debt of 68 percent of GDP, ordinary citizens were convinced that the funds would go poorly. used. Taxes, they believed, were intended to line the pockets of parliamentarians.

With this in mind, Ruto’s trip to Atlanta in May was not received kindly. People knew exactly how much he spent on his state visit to the United States. Renting a private plane in a country with widespread unemployment was a bad idea.

The purpose of his trip – to consolidate Kenya’s alliance with the United States and recruit investment to advance the economy – appeared to have been lost in the confusion.

Our driver had called ahead to check road conditions, trying to avoid disruptions expected from protesters occupying major highways.

Despite their massive scale, these demonstrations were in vain. In one small town, protesters blocking the road waved us back as if to shoo away a fly. They surrounded our car, banging on the hood and shouting “No finance bill!” while climbing on the running boards to wave posters in our faces.

The driver shrugged it off and we were eventually allowed through after rolling down the windows to explain that we were not, in fact, the officials taxing them. I felt safe – the atmosphere was irreverently festive and the outpouring of righteous anger was not directed at me. It was a kind of Kenyan Tea Party. American conservatives might get behind this sentiment, and the civic activism and youthful exuberance they displayed could make any liberal fall in love.

But things could turn out, and if it was so bad here, what would happen once we arrived in the capital?

The two-hour drive turned into almost four hours as the pattern repeated itself at every intersection: seeing groups of people gathered at intersections, exiting the highway, determining whether the burning tires were on their side of the road or ours, chatting with the truck drivers to see how we would all get around. The class of drivers, who were simply trying to do their jobs, shook their heads as if to say, “Those crazy kids,” but they didn’t seem to disagree with their motives.

At one point we walked through the narrow village streets, hugging the shoulder past corrugated iron shacks, chatting along dirt roads and meeting strange looks as we followed the wake of a bulky transport truck .

We finally arrived in Nairobi’s Westlands, fortunately without having to go through the central business district; we picked up a few things and headed to the room, taking a roundabout behind the president’s residence, under the sign of a guard. The government SUV had finally paid off.

By the time we met to discuss the chamber’s budding relationship with Atlanta and the upcoming push for a nonstop flight to boost the budding business relationship, things had heated up again. We tried a Uberbut even to travel a few kilometers, the roadblocks proved impassable. It was time to use plan B: motorcycles.

At least two young people had stayed away from the fight and were waiting at a gas station, ready to take advantage of their growing stock as the roads became jostled. We put our bags on our shoulders and hopped on the motorbike. We progressed in the gray area on the shoulder and between cars, sometimes crossing into the right lane (in Kenya we drive on the left) until cars approached. I clutched my bag and kept my knees glued to the bike as I held the reins of the rider’s backpack strap.

We approached the same checkpoint we had passed through earlier, now fortified by a SWAT vehicle with turret-mounted machine guns. The National Police were pushing back cars and motorcycles. As the drivers continued to argue, the officer quickly walked toward the truck. We were already turning around before he grabbed the tear gas canister.

Maybe that’s what it took for me to feel like we were witnessing a historic event. With my phone tucked into my jacket, I tried to take mental pictures of the scene: people passing in all directions, many in groups chanting slogans and waving tree branches. Highways and empty intersections were still blocked, cluttering the streets. Our bikes weaved through rocks and debris, and I held my breath as we sped through columns of smoke from smoldering tires. Someone set fire to a pile of straw for no apparent reason.

Back at the hotel, no cars were allowed into what had become a fortress of steel and glass. Would I make it to the airport, I asked the front desk? Hold on, has become the consensus.

Safe but exhausted, we had a quick dinner in the nearby mall. As we paid, a flashing chyron on a TV in the bar explained why the mood had changed: Police shoot protesters who storm Parliament. It was later determined that more than 20 people were killed, while others were rushed to hospital.

Ruto addressed the nation that evening at 9pm – my flight had already been postponed amid the melee and a mysterious system outage that some linked to an internet outage.

His assessment? Criminals and terrorists have infiltrated peaceful protests, sparking violence in parliament. He vowed to respond firmly to any further incitement to violence.

But by the time I boarded the plane to Johannesburg the next day, a new headline had appeared: Ruto withdraws finance bill.

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