"Wanjiku, uka wone mbutu!” (Wanjiku, come and see fake eyelashes!”) a woman screeches at a high-end mall on the Thika superjamway.
Her
friend, bloated with indignation, calls back, demanding that she come
and see a dress going for Sh3,000. “Sh3,000. A whole Sh3,000! How dare
they?” she screams and throws down the merchandise.
She
and a large group of buddies go through the store systematically,
outraged at blouses going for Sh1,500, handling, wrinkling, sometimes
soiling the goods.
Outside, another large group is
riding up and down in an escalator, lost in come kind of therapeutic
rapture. A horde of the lumpen (the economically displaced or
dispossessed) have come to visit the cash economy and though no
purchases are made, there is plenty of entertainment and shocked outrage
at the prices.
Had you asked me what I was some 15
years ago, I would have told you that I was a Neo-Marxist, that is a
watered down Marxist who had survived the shock of the collapse of
communism in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe.
But
thinking about it, I never really cared much for collective production
and ownership and the idea of a workers’ dictatorship is, honestly,
repugnant.
Marx’s analysis of capital and class
struggle is, I think, very good work. Equally repugnant is crass
capitalism and unfettered greed.
I have seen many
analyses of China. Almost invariably, Western discussions of China tend
to be soaked in fear of Chinese expansion and perhaps China’s presumed
unfair trade practices.
For me, the most striking
thing about the modern Chinaman is the place of money in his life.
Communism took God, or Buddha, or whatever, out of the life of the
Chinese and for decades the party, its leaders, and ideology occupied
that space in the hearts and minds of the masses.
By
embracing some form of capitalism, again the Chinese masses have lost
their religion and in its place has stepped money. That is why you find
the Chinese pursuing money with such single-minded fervour.
I
think the Communist party is clever, disciplined, and ruthless enough
to control nearly two billion industrious Chinese doing deals and making
money.
I also now see that my youthful idealism and
romantic view of poverty were clearly misguided. I would not attend the
career presentations by multinationals, neither would I work for them.
Their
extractive activities, I believed, were exploitative and created
poverty in the developing world. I thought the Bretton Woods
institutions were instruments of imperialist oppression and wore “Spank
the Bank” badges. I wanted to take part in street marches and protests
against capitalism in cities across the world.
Some of
these views are just as valid today, but poverty is not necessarily
morally improving. Poor people are not necessarily good people and rich
people are not necessarily bad people.
In other words,
poverty is not necessarily good and wealth is not necessarily evil.
Today, I suppose I am some kind of capitalist, but I identify with the
poor; it is not an affectation, it is a question of old habits dying
hard.
The opening of the Garden City Mall on Thika
superjamway and the stories I have been hearing from there, of poor
people from the deprived sections of the city visiting expensive stores,
not to shop, but mainly as a day out to ogle the merchandise and curse
the prices, is a reminder that the human race is not one but two: the
poor and the rich.
The lumpen are tourists in the cash
economy mesmerised by what natives regard as routine stuff. We as a
country must do everything in our power to lift everyone out of abject
poverty by creating opportunities for people to work and prosper.
Helping
the mass of Kenyans out of grinding poverty ideologically justifies
sacrifice by individuals. It is worthwhile to postpone your quest for
immense riches, or indeed to shelve it altogether, for such a cause. As a
matter of fact, it is a much worthier enterprise than a Chinese-like
pursuit for riches.
We are never going to beat poverty
unless we make some progress in reducing corruption. By being corrupt,
the elite is taking opportunity out of the lives of the majority.
And
Kenyans will forever be shouting in wonder at the sight of false
eyelashes and riding escalators as if the experience is a massage at a
sports club. No. Let us not make excuses for corruption.
Twitter: @mutuma_mathiu
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