KAIKAI'S KICKER: Easter - Say hi to your Barabbas!

The entire story of the passion, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ sounds like a Kenyan fable, complete with Kenyan characters of diverse political and ethnic backgrounds. Do you remember some fellow called Barabbas?

I said Barabbas not Barasa. Yes, that one. How more Kenyan can one be? If he were to live again, Barabbas would be a most deserving case for a Kenyan birth certificate, an identity card, a Huduma number and, if not born a Kenyan, Nyayo House must surely mint a sparkling new passport for Barabbas alongside those of his present-day compatriots, the RSF of Sudan. We will come back to Barabbas later.

Every Easter, I think of the metaphor of the last supper in Kenyan politics and, you bet, this country has seen many last meals. In the biblical account, Jesus Christ, knowing his suffering and death were imminent, gathered his disciples for what turned out to be their last supper together as a group.

But the meal was overshadowed by the betrayal of Jesus, his arrest and the beginning of the journey to the cross.

That show of unity at the dining table came tumbling down the moment Judas Iscariot, a disciple of Christ no less, kissed Jesus on the cheek, not as a sign of affection but as a signal for those who came to arrest him to strike.

Every four or five years in Kenya, politicians meet for a series of last suppers complete with versions of kisses that include handshakes, hugs and matching shirts and ties. They gather as latter-day disciples, creatively coining affectionate names for themselves such as “united brothers”, “broadbased soulmates” and the like.

But somewhere down the road, and as sure as the events of Jerusalem centuries ago, there will be a kiss followed by the big smack of betrayal. And woe unto any Kenyan that places all trust in that huge dining table of the last supper.

When things shift so suddenly, it serves no purpose chopping off anyone’s ear, especially considering that no one can instantly put it back in place as it happened in the garden of Gethsemane back then.

So, what follows Kenya’s last supper every five years? Tears. Machozi. Regrets. Loud ones. Silent ones. I told you so. I wish I knew. They are tribalists. But we helped him. Then, it is time for another meal, another last supper, and the cycle repeats itself.

Let us go back to Barasa, sorry, Barabbas. He is my favorite guy when it comes to Easter metaphors for Kenya. Biblical accounts describe Barabbas as a notorious bandit, a robber who was imprisoned for murder and insurrection.

The gospel tells us of an annual Passover celebration custom where the governor can release one prisoner to the crowd, anyone the crowd wanted.

So, Pontius Pilate put the question to the crowd, which one do you want me to release to you, Barabbas or Jesus who is called the Messiah?

The Bible goes on to tell us that the leading priests and elders had persuaded the crowd to ask for Barabbas to be released and for Jesus to be put to death. So, when the governor asked again, “Which of these two do you want me to release to you?” the well-mobilized crowd shouted back, “Barabbas! Mtu wetu! Haki yetu!”

Metaphors can be cruel. Is that not exactly how we vote and live in Kenya today? Just take a hard look at any of Kenya’s elective offices and have the courage to say hi to the Barabbas near you.

Happy Easter. That is my kicker.