Communicating with the people - the Kenyan government masterclass

Never have I felt prouder and more appreciative of the efforts and commitment to good communications of my colleagues back in the UK than yesterday. In all the VSO training we’re told to expect meetings to be delayed, for people to care less about things, to be unprofessional but so far I have not encountered too much frustration.

But yesterday I was led a merry dance across Kibera by the Kenyan government, and all as it attempted to engage the community in meaningful dialogue about the soon-to-be-implemented devolved government structures.

The early signs had not been too encouraging. The task force for devolved government’s public meetings had been heavily advertised, but only in the media. Not many people living on less than a dollar a day buy the national papers on a daily basis, and despite rhetoric and reference to marginalised groups there was no special attempt to engage them through the plethora of organisations which support them.

But organisations like ANDY have been attempting to mobilise persons with disabilities, holding focus groups to gather opinions and publicising the meetings. The task force is visiting every county, which stands in its favour, as does the fact it held yesterday's meeting entirely in kiswahili. The language of government is usually English, which can often exclude or confuse the many Kenyans who did not benefit from a full education. English is not the language spoken in shops, pubs, matatus or the home.

But it seemed the Kenyan government had tried hard to limit the numbers who could access it. The press notice and advert had stated that the meeting was to take place at the district office, Kibera, a very well-established and central point to the community and a sensible choice. But when we arrived there was no sign of any meeting. When we asked in the district office they suggested we looked around the compound, so we walked around it for a while asking more and more people. Eventually, a colleague ascertained that it had been moved. Yet no-one had thought to put a sign up telling people about the change of plan, let alone where the new venue was.

When we arrived where we'd been sent by the officer in the compound, we were confronted by an empty, open field. Again, many more questions for passers-by, with no results. No-one had seen the massive public meeting we had somehow missed. One of our colleagues arrived separately at the DO's office and asked them where it was, only to be directed to a different venue. Rather frustratingly, the correct location was only five minutes walk from our office, yet we arrived over an hour after leaving. If this long walk didn’t stop persons with physical disabilities attending, then the steep, uneven path to the seating area would. It was totally inaccessible to wheelchairs.  This theme continued from there. There was no sign language interpreter and the speakers made constant references to material which had been handed out; but no versions were available in braille or large print.

The task force representatives, in a position equivalent to
behind the old score board at the Gelderd End, Elland Road

 Remarkably, a couple of hundred other people had also managed to locate this key consultation, and we joined them to be talked at for the next 90 minutes. In an odd move, the organisers inverted the functions of the sports ground; the speakers were placed at the back of a stand (which had sufficient seats to hold the gathered throng) and the audience were in housed in presumably hired marquees on the pitch.  The result was a gaping and symbolic distance between the government and the audience

The government wanted to be close to the people,
but not that close!

Just as I thought I'd wasted an entire morning the microphone was opened up to the public to offer their views on the 46 questions which the task force is posing to people all over the country. This being Kenya, the opening few contributions were dominated by a certain category of ‘Mzee’ (a respectful term meaning a male ‘elder’), who have an awful lot to say - often about themselves and not necessarily connected to the topic in hand - and an inexhaustible craving for the sound of their own voice. The first was heckled roundly as he attempted to return to the microphone to respond to the second contributor’s comments, while many were ushered away by the chair after many complaints from the crowd, which was quickly beginning to realise that we were probably going to have to carry on through lunch (the possibility of this happening has been enough to cause outbreaks of panic at some meetings I have attended in Kenya).

But the chair was very conscious to close the gender gap from the outset, and began to invite more and more women to the floor. Some of them proved that a woman can do anything a man can do, launching into their speeches like the would-be county seat candidates they probably are; one of them addressed the TV camera throughout rather than the task force or audience.



Lilian makes the government listen

And then our hero entered; my colleague Lilian took to the floor and used all the skills she has honed as a preacher to give a passionate and insightful (so she tells me, it was in kiSwahili) contribution on behalf of the often excluded persons with disabilities. Typically, a few heads dropped in disinterest but more nodded along than I expected, and the round of applause at the end was more than respectful.

Two of the key questions asked by the task force is 'how should the government communicate with you?' and 'how can we encourage you to participate?'.

The answer on behalf of persons with disabilities was simple:

• communicate with people through the channels we like to receive information, including our support organisations,
• don't change the venue of public meetings at the last minute necessitating a long walk to an inaccessible field
• if you're holding a public meeting it might be an idea to have a sign language interpreter on hand, and literature in braille, large print and other formats so that everyone can join in.

The new constitution prohibits discrimination and brings into law all manner of regulations which should guarantee that persons with disabilities are able to take a full part in mainstream meetings, not just have their own meeting in the one disability-friendly room in town.  

But only months after the constitution was voted in by referendum, some of these key victories are far from being realised. The fact that a government organisation can hold a meeting which actively discriminates against persons with disabilities only serves to show Kenya’s disability community that the constitution is a victory on paper alone, and we have entered the key phase of the balttle to make it a reality. ANDY is trying to deliver this message to as many of our beneficiaries and partners as possible, and to give them the advocacy and political skills to spearhead change and make the pwers that be deliver on their promises.

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