Sakaja trashes the city paving the way for its rebuilding, bottom up

Good morning, Mheshimiwa Johnson Arthur Sakaja! I’m sorry, Mheshimiwa, but I didn’t know your game. Overnight, I have developed what Gen-Zees call “mad respect,” for you. The coinage, “mad respect” conveys the range of emotions involved far surpass the bounds of reason.

I must confess that when Gavana Sakaja ran and easily won the Nairobi gubernatorial seat on a platform of smiles, dimples and smooth, dark skin, I was among the sceptics who thought Sakaja a softie who couldn’t survive the rough and tumble of our politics.

This was especially after he wailed hysterically about being targeted for possessing a certificate from a college he had never set foot in, or was it a school that awarded him with a certificate before enrolling— my memory is getting fuzzy with the passage of time.

Anyway, this week, I modified my judgement of Gavana Sakaja because, as it turns out, his biggest asset is being underrated. He proved his mettle yet again and, one might add, he did so in style.

We know folks at City Hall are notoriously efficient in unleashing anarchy. Just talk to the mama mboga who operate in the city streets. I understand when Gavana Sakaja showed up in office on Monday and found folks at Kenya Power had turned off power, over some unpaid electricity bills, he instantly swung into action.

A typical response, one would assume, was to summon a full council meeting. But since the entire building was in darkness and the computers were off, that would have been difficult, unless the Gavana decided to mobilise his team at the Jeevanjee Gardens.

But since Sakaja is a practical, hands-on leader, he decided to remind folks at Kenya Power who really runs the city and wields proper power. Using a tactic from a manual popularised by street folks, who routinely arm themselves with feaces to extort money from unsuspecting Kenyans, the good Gavana swung into action.

I can visualise Sakaja as he explained his order to the Head of Takataka. “Buana, listen and listen good,” Sakaja would have said, irritated. “You are speaking with Gavana Sakaja himuselefu. I am not saying there is trash to be picked from Stima Plaza. It is to be delivered there…”

A momentary silence would have ensued as the Head of Takataka digested the news. As far as he was aware, Stima Plaza in Nairobi’s Ngara neighbourhood was not a designated a garbage-processing site. But if Gavana Sakaja was directing him there, not to pick, but to deliver trash, then one must have been established. He responded by committing to reroute all Dandora-bound trucks to Stima Plaza.

“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” Gavana Sakaja would have sighed. “Just note I am ordering a number of trucks, not the entire fleet of trucks. Just get enough to feed folks at Stima Plaza.”

When Head of Takataka sought further clarification why folks at Stima Plaza were eating trash, Gavana Sakaja’s patience snapped. “You need to start using your head, Buana Takataka. The verb “feed” has a singular meaning. I know most people don’t see value in the stuff you bear in the trucks, but that will change from today. We’re delivering lunch for folks at Stima Plaza.”

The rest, as they say, is not history, but the future. Having plunged the city once green city in the sun to decay and decadence in 2.5 years, Gavana Sakaja’s debt management strategy ushers in new possibilities for Kenya’s urban regeneration.

This dystopian vision of the future will no doubt excite urban planners, for if the strategy was successfully implemented in Nairobi, it can be replicated in other urban settlements across the country. And anyone who is aggrieved with anything will find enormous strength to know a truckload of trash is all you need to sort just about everything.