Debunk Media

For the longest time, possibly since he joined Twitter (now X), Siaya Governor James Orengo has maintained the same masthead, a photo of a youthful Orengo seated across from and speaking to a suited, bespectacled, mixed-race man who’s spotting an afro full of grey hair. The photo is simple, innocent, portraying its subjects in a father-son light, Orengo seeming to be articulating an important thought to the old man, the old man listening pensively, patiently, his hands categorically interlocked, as if whatever the old man is about to say next will determine a fate or fates of things and people somewhat, somehow, somewhere. The poignancy is palpable. But then the photo starts losing its innocence when one begins connecting the dots. If there is a Kenyan politician with some of the most poetic and historically consequential photos – from student leadership in the early ‘70s to the fight against dictatorships in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, to the struggle for pluralism in the late ‘80s to the early ‘90s, to the push for reforms and the midwifing of a new politics in the late ‘90s and early 2000s, to the clamour for electoral justice in the naughts and beyond – that individual is James Bob Aggrey Orengo. But then, Orengo deliberately picked this particular photo of himself with a man who is certainly unrecognizable to possibly 99% of Kenyans, when he could easily have settled for any one of his many iconic and recognizable photos, including one with his political father, Jaramogi Oginga Odinga. His X account being his most populated contact site with over one and a half million followers at present, Orengo knew and knows what he is doing with that masthead, whether the Kenyan public recognizes the man in the photo with Orengo or not. Orengo, it seems, was picking the photo more for himself than for the public, but not anymore. Read more on The Necessity of James Orengo, Link in bio

News broke in February this year that Kenyan actor Lenana Kariba was on Netflix’s Bridgerton, a show watched all over the world. Amidst the widespread celebration and show of goodwill by Kenyans for one of their own, two themes emerged. First, that of the continuing normalization of being excited by Western validation, and second, that Kenyan soil is toxic for creatives; it is the place where dreams wither and die. If the ‘making it big’ and breaking into the international scene trend (as seen with Lupita Nyong’o, Eddy Gathegi, Owiso Odera, Mary Oyaya, and others) is the biggest trope we find in the creative scene, the second biggest is that of the broke, depressed, discouraged, drunken and dysfunctional artist. The high of a new creative having broken out on the scene is followed months later by the heart-breaking news of the falling from glory to grass of a former ‘great’ in the creative industry. Pictures and videos of the wretched state of this creative are shared online, their past glories are remembered and cried about. Kenyans quickly set up a Paybill Number and send money to the person in question. Until the next time this fate befalls yet another artist. This is likely why the hearing of another creative breaking into the international arena is such a big deal. It gives hope that one more person has escaped the matrix. The very idea of making a living as an artist was seen as a madness until the early 2000s, upon the emergence of artists such as Nameless, Amani and Wahu. Nazizi’s 1996 song ‘Ni Sawa Tu’ depicted the struggles late Gen Xers and early millennials wanting to get into the arts faced, starting from their very own households. Upon the character in the song informing her parents of her dreams to be a rapper, she is met with alarm, discouragement and predictions of failure. “Mtoto we umenishinda…. Je ukishindwa?…. Acha kuwa mjinga.” The rejection was not just at household level; it was in the wider sphere. A year before Nazizi’s song release, Kalamashaka had been booed offstage for rapping in Swahili and sheng. Read more on Why Kenyan artists are depressed, discouraged, drunken and dysfunctional by @kingwakamencu , link in bio

About a month ago, the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission chairperson Erastus Edung Ethekon, while sharing an update on the ongoing voter registration process, also stated that the commission’s enhanced voter registration was not only meant for first time voters – those who have never registered to vote before, but that the exercise was also an opportunity for pre-2012 voters who had never submitted their biometrics to the Commission to re-register. That statement immediately raised temperatures across the country. There was hue and cry from politicians, church leaders, Gen Zs, civil society luminaries and many other people in the know. How could the IEBC do this? How could they begin a fresh registration of voters who had previously voted? Some wondered where the old voter register had gone. Had these voters been deregistered? Some saw more ominous signs ahead. Was the IEBC setting in motion a process to rig the 2027 election? Or was the Commission cooking the register or opening an opportunity for suspicious characters to become voters? The frenzy went on for the entirety of the Easter weekend, until the IEBC pacified the environment with a follow-up clarification that the Commission did not mean fresh voter registration for the entirety of those who had voted pre-2012, among other insinuations. Continue reading through the link in bio

If you’re reading this, and you text the group chat asking where to get a safe abortion, chances are that someone will know. You’ll get recommendations about specific clinics or doctors who offer the service, as long as you can pay for it. Perhaps these recommendations will come from your friends’ personal experiences, because they too have had an abortion, and they’re sharing where they got the best care. For women and girls of a certain social class, abortion is not the earth-shattering, life altering event we’ve been led to believe. It is often nothing more complicated than a routine hospital visit. They’ll either give you some pills to swallow at home, resulting in a heavier period than usual and cramping, and though uncomfortable, it will all be over in a few hours. Or they will go the surgical route, where they remove the pregnancy through the cervix using gentle suction. It takes about 10 minutes and you’ll be out of the clinic and at home, with nothing more dramatic than a light period for a few days. The point is, as long as you can pay for it, you will always be able to terminate a pregnancy safely, with few to no questions asked. Read more on - Abortions Are Happening. They Will Happen. Nobody Should Go To Prison For It by @_kathambi Link in bio

I suspect that we’d clutch our pearls less about what we’ve been told is excessive screen time if we stopped thinking of our brains as fundamentally broken because we stayed up til 2a.m. watching reels, and accepted that there are nights when we just won’t get enough sleep and so we self-soothe by going on our phones. It’s all part of the human experience. Pathologising our instinct to go online with terms like “doomscrolling” and “brainrot” only serves to make us feel bad about ourselves and render us powerless against the big bad wolf that is big tech. Psychologists are finally telling us the truth about phone addiction: it is just not real. Sure, we can all benefit from activities that require us to look away from our screens and breathe a bit of fresh air and connect in person with people but a lot of this is not down to willpower or virtuosity, rather, it is a product of the environments we live in. I garden because I have a balcony that can accommodate plants. I go to choir and learn to sing because rehearsals meet in my neighbourhood. I have a library membership because I can afford it, and I have the time to visit the library every two weeks. To paraphrase what Kerry Washington said to Reese Witherspoon in Little Fires Everywhere, I don’t make good choices, I have good choices. #digitaldetox #debunkopinion Read more on 'The great digital detox? You don't need it' by @_kathambi 🔗 Link in bio

This week, our columnists all seemed to be thinking along the same lines as writer Jean-Baptiste Karr in 1849 when he wrote: the more things change, the more they remain the same. (Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.) Whether it’s the Kenyan government or the united opposition, the IEBC vs. new voters, Donald J. Trump & Daniel arap Moi, it appears the script just keeps rewriting itself. Perhaps we all do need to keep doomscrolling and bear witness to the cyclic chaos of our time, like @_kathambi writes 🤷🏾‍♀️ In case you missed any of them, here are the week’s gems from @mullemusau , @_kathambi , Bobby Mkangi & Tom Maliti.

In both his presidencies, especially in his second term in office, US President Donald John Trump has sought to project himself as a strong, tough leader. To him, this means he’s effective and is getting things done for Americans. To me, the strong, tough character he has displayed so far is more in the mould of a dictator. In fact, Trump is reminiscent of Kenya’s second president, Daniel arap Moi, who qualified to be called a dictator. Read the full article, Link in bio

President William Ruto has said his government will implement a more than two-year-old report that was meant to address the issues that sparked Maandamano in 2023. I agree with you if you are befuddled. I agree with you if you conclude that our politics is calcified. Ruto told a March 10 joint meeting of the United Democratic Alliance and the Orange Democratic Movement legislators that he was going to follow through on the 120 recommendations the National Dialogue Committee made in a report that was tabled in the National Assembly in December 2023. The President said this to confirm to his ODM friends that he is committed to their partnership. #debunkopinion Read the full piece. Link in bio.

I am growing a bunch of vegetables on my balcony. They share a big horizontal ceramic planter; onions and tomatoes and spinach and cabbage and lettuce growing side by side with varying degrees of success. Co-planting, they call it, and it’s supposed to be good for soil health and pest control. Four weeks in, the onions have aphids, the spinach and cabbage appear stunted and the tomatoes wilt every noon under the merciless glare of the Nairobi sun. I don't know whether I will get to harvest anything from this crop, but it won’t be from a lack of trying. Every morning I dutifully check the soil for moisture, trying to decide whether they need more water or if I am risking root rot from overwatering. I worry that they get too much sun but there isn’t much I can do about that because my balcony is unshaded. I check for signs of growth; new leaves, firmer stems, more vibrant colour. That’s how I discovered the aphids on the onions. They look like clusters of tiny black beads against the bright green of the leaves. Even thinking about them now makes me feel trypophobic. I took a picture and texted it to my more experienced farmer friend, “What are these bugs, and what do I do to eliminate them?” Read @_kathambi in full. Link in bio.

What is a society without its storytellers? Stories cut through desensitisation. They reclaim empathy and compassion. They remind us that while the horrors persist, so do the joys. From Hind Rajab in Gaza to families devastated by floods in Kenya, stories help us figure out who we are and why we are here. As @_kathambi writes, we need more independent media because the stories of our times should be told by as many people as possible, in as many ways as possible, for as many people as possible. Continue reading about Journalism changing at the link in our bio.

In his book, “Political Parties After Political Parties: The Changing Nature and Reality of Political Power in Kenya” (2021), Tony Mochama illustrates how the history of politics and political parties (parties thereafter) in Kenya is a long winding story about how power has a name, face, and ethnicity. Amongst other dynamics, the author reveals that since pre-‘independence’, political organization in Kenya has largely been personality-driven. Read more about Beyond Niko Kadi at the link in our bio.

In street poker, niko kadi – the equivalent of checkmate in Chess – sends shivers down the spines of opponents, especially if the game is a high stakes one. Thus, niko kadi, a phrase lately embraced by Kenyan youth, especially the Gen Z who are now turning up in growing numbers to register as voters, has all the hallmarks of a checkmate move against the status quo, particularly if its proponents walk the talk. Like poker, elections are a calculation game, likely to shape the kings and queens to ascend on the throne of governance. These electoral Chess moves will decide who has the aces to alter the political equation in the run up to the next election. Read the full story at the link in our bio.