Dear Goon, we need to have a little chat. I know you have a job. You have been contracted for a pittance to block a political rally from happening or to disrupt, shout down your masters' opponents, and to remind journalists who calls the shots in your little town.
But please, leave the journalists alone. I know the temptation. There they are, cameras hanging around their necks, notebooks in hand, confidently recording things that your sponsors would rather remain unrecorded.
That, precisely, is their job. Journalists are society's unofficial witnesses. They watch out for the greater good, document what happens and preserve the record for posterity.
Long after today's crop of politicians have changed allegiances, dumped you or retired to their comfortable homes, journalists' records will remain. Tomorrow's Kenyans will want to know what happened in Kenya today, and somebody must have been there to write it down.
So, Goon, when you swing your club at a journalist, you are not merely attacking a person carrying a camera. You are attacking the record of your own time.
Journalists also perform the deeply unpopular democratic duty of speaking truth to power. Power, as you may have noticed, does not always enjoy being told the truth. In fact, power sometimes prefers compliments, applause and carefully arranged crowds. The function of journalism is to spoil that party.
A journalist also holds up a mirror to society. Sometimes the reflection is flattering. Sometimes it is not. But smashing the mirror does not improve the face staring back at you. It merely leaves you standing among broken glass, wondering where your reflection went. Your ugly, goon face will still be with you.
And here is the part you should consider carefully: when journalists are beaten into fear, it does not ultimately benefit you. Suppose your employer refuses to pay you. Suppose your neighbourhood is flooded because public money meant for drainage disappeared in the pockets of your sponsor.
Suppose your child is denied public service. Suppose you are arrested unfairly. Suppose the powerful person who hired you suddenly discovers that you are no longer useful and unfairly discards you.
Who will tell your story? Certainly not the sponsor who sent you to block the roads to a political rally. He will probably be gracing prime time, running their mouth on the importance of peace.
Your children will still need school fees. Your family will still need food. Your rent will still be due. And that T-shirt with your sponsor-politician's face on it will not pay your advocate.
There is yet another uncomfortable truth: political sponsors have remarkably short memories. Today they may call you "jeshi yangu" and pat you on the back. Tomorrow, they may not even remember your name.
You will be on your own, your conscience and, potentially, a police file. The journalist you attacked may recover from the bruises. The video of the attack, however, may live forever.
That is the strange thing about the digital age. The camera you tried to smash may already have uploaded the evidence to three phones, two cloud servers and someone's WhatsApp group before it hit the ground.
You can outrun a journalist, Goon, but good luck outrunning technology. So, think before you hurl a stone at a camera.
You are being asked to defend somebody's temporary political interests at the possible expense of your permanent personal interests. Do not allow yourself to become disposable muscle for people who will eventually leave you to face the law alone.
Kenya needs political competition, robust journalism and noisy public debate. It does not need goons with clubs deciding who gets to speak, who gets to record and who gets to be heard.
Put down the club. Let the journalist do the job.
And remember this final warning: your sponsor will eventually abandon you. In the end, you will be left to your own devices—and the law will come looking for you.
When it does, do not expect the man who sent you to block a rally to answer the door for you. You will then have to dispose of part of your inheritance to the same politician to be able to afford an advocate fee.
Cease and desist from attacking journalists.
Advocate of the High Court and a Senior Project Manager with the Friedrich Naumann Foundation. The views expressed here are his own
