It is the Budget. The Budget Reading. A national issue but Kenyans seldom seem to understand the ‘language’ that it’s done in – never mind the usage of English that makes up for the actual reading itself. It’s a process that takes close to two hours, depending on who is coordinating the office along Harambee House. It is neither the heavily guarded office of the Kenya’s CEO, nor the defining meaning of elegance and national affluence, nor the lack of the political base of Kenya’s second Premier therein, but it is rather the Treasury House that is commonly referred to Kenyans – both within and without Nairobi as Ministry of Finance.
This morning, June 16, 2012 at 5:57am, I alight from the ‘matatu’ headed to work. I take a few strides and see a crowd of people milling around…something or someone – since I cannot see as I am not exactly 7ft tall. I think to myself, there have been so many incidences – soon becoming countless – of bombings and all, so much so that it isn’t safe to mill around anything or any place if you really do not have to. So I walk along. A couple of yards along as I carefully double up – observing my step not to soil my shinny footware and watch out for a pick pockets who operate a 24 hour economy in Nairobi, and I see an almost similar crowd milling. I seldom hear a sound, with those at the back and far end craning their necks to see. Without a second thought – poor judgment on my side is the silent voice in my normally elective and 98% of the time right mind – I increase the pace of my stride towards the crowd. To my surprise, they are reading the topical title on one of the mainstream dailies – it being about the budget. Never mind that there have been budgetary hearings across the country for the past six months, they still sound really disoriented by the one trillion worth budget. At the front I hear a voice lament; why this expensive a budget? Never mind the number of zeros that make up in a trillion Kenyan Bob.
This morning, June 16, 2012 at 5:57am, I alight from the ‘matatu’ headed to work. I take a few strides and see a crowd of people milling around…something or someone – since I cannot see as I am not exactly 7ft tall. I think to myself, there have been so many incidences – soon becoming countless – of bombings and all, so much so that it isn’t safe to mill around anything or any place if you really do not have to. So I walk along. A couple of yards along as I carefully double up – observing my step not to soil my shinny footware and watch out for a pick pockets who operate a 24 hour economy in Nairobi, and I see an almost similar crowd milling. I seldom hear a sound, with those at the back and far end craning their necks to see. Without a second thought – poor judgment on my side is the silent voice in my normally elective and 98% of the time right mind – I increase the pace of my stride towards the crowd. To my surprise, they are reading the topical title on one of the mainstream dailies – it being about the budget. Never mind that there have been budgetary hearings across the country for the past six months, they still sound really disoriented by the one trillion worth budget. At the front I hear a voice lament; why this expensive a budget? Never mind the number of zeros that make up in a trillion Kenyan Bob.
It’s a few minutes to 7am and my employer needs me seated behind my laptop not socializing on social sites but putting in work. So, I walk off thinking to myself, “Kenyans will seldom read when it’s necessary to read, not only for the nation but for their own individualistic good at their household level. They will partake in all that’s social but there’ll be no points of comparison as what pertains to the masses heading to political rallies. But then, we are natural Kenyans”.
