The more I see the clergy, MPs the more I see why some prayers are never answered

Barrack Muluka
Playwright George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950) famously said: "The more I see of the moneyed classes, the more I understand the guillotine." Quite often, you are tempted to paraphrase Shaw and say, ‘The more I see of Africa’s political classes, the more I understand the guillotine’.
The guillotine was, of course, a decapitating machine that claimed many a royal head in the tragic days of the French Revolution of 1789-1792. Students of history looking at Africa today must be forgiven for thinking we are living in pre-revolutionary France in Africa.
Forget the children’s play that recently removed Hosni Mubarak of Egypt from the throne. For that was an evening tea party that has left the ruling class in Egypt intact, even as Mubarak himself drifts into luxurious retirement and out of public memory.
The French Revolution was a cataclysmic occurrence that for a period of three years saw royal and wealthy heads roll upon the descent of the guillotine. But it also left Europe staggering for close to a century.
Shaw has said that the more he sees of the moneyed classes the more he understands the gory events of that age. When you look at Laurent Gbagbo of Ivory Coast hiding in a rat’s hole in Abidjan and insisting he is the President of the erstwhile Eldorado of West Africa, you must understand the guillotine. Indeed, the dinosaur head of state culture on the continent helps us to understand the guillotine.
It is easy to draw parallels between the gay and frivolous style of Kenya’s political class and the gaiety that dominated the palace in Versailles before heads began rolling in 1789. The royal class held the citizenry in typical contempt.
It was not unlike Kenya, where MPs will fly to The Hague in a hopeless display of misplaced priorities. At a time when Parliament is smarting under the gravity of a heavy legislative calendar, MPs have been making court jesters of themselves, in the cold streets of Europe, ostensibly because they do not think the International Criminal Court should try a Kenyan.
The hypocrisy is as debilitating as the irony is cutting. The irony is that hundreds of millions of shillings have been spent towards escorting the ‘Ocampo Six’ to The Hague, while not a word has been said of the Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs). Never mind they were created by the circumstances now before The Hague. Not even in the holy prayers that preceded the trip to The Hague have they been remembered. The more I have followed the prayers, the more I have understood the Prophet Isaiah in Christian writ.
The holy men of God who prayed for the six said not a single word about those who were sexually assaulted, the maimed and homeless. The men of God did not even pray for the souls of those who died in the violence that is now before The Hague.
And so I understand the Prophet Isaiah when he says, "Your country is desolate, your cities burned with fire. Your fields are being stripped by foreigners right before you…. I cannot bear your evil assemblies…. When you spread out your hands in prayer, I will hide my face from you. Even if you offer many prayers, I will not listen. Your hands are full of blood" (Isaiah 1: 7-15).
When the holy man of God prays for The Hague six and says nothing about the IDPs and the PEV victims, then he has read his Bible selectively. He has not read where it is written, ‘The eyes of the arrogant shall be humbled and his pride will be brought low’ (Isaiah 1: 11).
That is why politicians can walk from prayer meetings and go on to live television on Sunday evenings to display unbridled arrogance. Like the profane priests who pray for them, they have never read where it said, ‘Seek justice, encourage the oppressed. Defend the cause of the fatherless, plead the cause of the widow’ (Isaiah 1: 17).
I hear William Ruto’s fatherly lament when he cries about the plight of his children. I hear him when he says his children are troubled about The Hague matter that hangs above his head like the Sword of Damocles. I see the human side of the dyed-in-the-wool politician. And for this I should empathise with him and love him more. But I also hear the voice of Rachel, crying for her twins who died in the PEV.
For ‘a voice is heard in Ramah (Kenya’s Rift Valley Province). Deep anguish and bitter weeping. Rachel is crying for her children (who died in the PEV), she refuses to be comforted — for her children are gone’ (Jeremiah 31: 15). It is not that I hear the anguish in Ruto’s voice less. I hear Ruto and I see Rachel. It is just that I hear the agony in Rachel’s voice more. This is most likely because I am astounded that the clergy who have been praying for the Ocampo Six have never spared a thought for the plight of Rachel and for the departed souls of her children.
And so, dear countrymen and women, I begin understanding George Bernard Shaw better. I watch the charged political prayer rallies. I understand the guillotine better with each new rally. I see the pictures of audacious Kenyan MPs beamed from Europe. I also see IDPs and the army of the unemployed and the hopeless.
For all my readings in world history, I begin to understand the true meaning of the word revolution. I understand why the French guillotine rolled with the heads of the nobility and the clergy alike.
I also understand the poet John Donne (1572-1631) when he says: ‘Therefore, send not to know, for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee’. For I now understand why God ignores some prayers, just as well as I understand the guillotine.
The writer is a publishing editor and media consultant