By Kamotho Waiganjo

One evening two months ago, my taxi driver, a young man of 23, went to drop my daughters home. Upon dropping them at about 6.30pm, he returned to his station on Loita Street where he willingly agreed to drop two smartly dressed passengers at the airport. That was the last time the taxi driver was seen.

Two days after his disappearance, somebody called his aged father, using the young man’s phone. The caller wanted Sh20,000 sent to some mobile phone number if the father wanted to see his son again. After unsuccessful attempts to track the callers through the police, the father, like all normal parents, sent the money. The son was to be collected from Kiambu. No son was found at the agreed rendezvous. Two days later, a further phone call, more demands. Payment reluctantly made and once again, no son. Two months later, the calls have ceased and the son is still missing.

This story is not unique and represents a new phenomenon of organised crime that is targeting poorer sectors of society. As we review progress of the reform agenda, it is easy for the bigger challenges we face to mask the grim reality in which poorer Kenyans are living.

In the average slum or rural village, the peasantry live in daily fear of all manner of extortionists. Where the local mafia does not collect protection money, rag tag thugs run riot creating the demand for vigilantes, who in conduct, are sometimes close cousins of the militias. In the city, the regularity with which kidnappings are occurring, targeting not just the rich, who were traditional victims of kidnappers, but the middle and low-income populace, is astounding. To their credit, the police have been trying to deal with this menace, but it would appear they are overwhelmed understaffed and demoralised. Whereas they are doing a commendable job managing crime in the more affluent areas of the cities, rural outposts and overcrowded slums are underprovided and inaccessible.

All manner of reasons have been advanced to explain soaring crime. The oft-repeated one is poverty, but you and I know of much poorer societies in which people still respect other’s lives and property. In reality, the most common cause is the disrespect for the rule of law and most critically, impunity.

Evidence abound of many Kenyans who have committed heinous crimes, but due to their elevated position or their financial muscle, have evaded sanction. Stories of hitherto acknowledged bankrupts who now own extensive real estate after a short stint in public office are legion. Ministers routinely negotiate parliamentary censure when allegations of graft are lodged against them. To date the perpetrators of the post-election violence remain unapprehended, despite their identities being public knowledge. For as long as these instances of impunity stare in Kenyan’s faces it will become increasingly difficult for security organs to remain sufficiently motivated or to obtain public support against crime. Without the latter, the war on crime cannot be won. Increasingly, it is being recorded in the public psyche that crime pays, if one can buy impunity.

If the much hoped for new constitution is to be realised, respect for the rule of law must be ingrained in the citizenry. This will not happen if the Government appears to be legitimising impunity. Every time a publicly committed offence escapes censure with perceived complicity of Government, respect for the rule of law is eroded.

Whereas the resultant anarchy will in the short-term impact those without a voice like my young taxi driver, in time none of us will be spared, and even a new constitution will attract the same disrespect as we show the rule of law today.

—The writer is an advocate of the High Court

kamothowaiganjo@yahoo.co.uk