SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2014

Working for Moi was a long and exciting moment

Retired President Daniel Moi receives a card from Kabarak Primary pupils at his 90th birthday celebration at Kabarak University, Nakuru County, on September 2, 2014. On his right is Governor Kinuthia Mbugua and son Gideon Moi (far right). PHOTO | SULEIMAN MBATIAH

Retired President Daniel Moi receives a card from Kabarak Primary pupils at his 90th birthday celebration at Kabarak University, Nakuru County, on September 2, 2014. On his right is Governor Kinuthia Mbugua and son Gideon Moi (far right). PHOTO | SULEIMAN MBATIAH |  NATION MEDIA GROUP

In Summary

  • My other advantage over Wangethi and Ali was that I spent much time alone with the President. I thus came to know not only his thoughts on issues but also how to handle the sycophants who competed for his favour.
  • For, during Kenya's one-party regime, it mattered nothing whether, like The Nation and The Standard, you were "freer", or whether, like The Kenya Times, you were owned by the ruling party.
  • The editors of all the dailies had to strain their mental necks to see how State House would react the next day if they used what George Mbugguss, when he was the Nation's editorial pontiff, often rejected as a "tricky story".
By PHILIP OCHIENG
More by this Author

My memories of the three years I edited a newspaper owned by Daniel arap Moi's ruling party (1988-1991) remain generally happy.

Of course, some unhappy events cross the mind. One is that Kanu obviated the Western liberal myth that a government or ruling-party newspaper must be tightly regimented and monolithic.

Indeed, the Kanu government often interfered very crudely. But the objective student of that history should see this — like everything else social — in the perspective of its time and clime. During the one-party regime that Mr Moi had inherited from Mzee Jomo Kenyatta, the official attitude applied to all the media.

Private ownership was no defence. All publishing houses cowered, including what Hilary Ng'weno, owner-editor of the widely respected Weekly Review, called "the freer newspapers". This was his term for all privately owned print media. That is whole myth. It lies in the claim that a newspaper can publish freely only if it is privately owned.

My experience in Tanzania had long exploded this old wives' tale told and retold by the Western liberal intelligentsia. But I never discovered its full falsity until 1988, when President Moi invited me to edit The Kenya Times. I had grown up only in the "freer newspapers", rising to the positions of chief sub-editor and then managing editor at the Daily Nation.

For, during Kenya's one-party regime, it mattered nothing whether, like The Nation and The Standard, you were "freer", or whether, like The Kenya Times, you were owned by the ruling party.

The editors of all the dailies had to strain their mental necks to see how State House would react the next day if they used what George Mbugguss, when he was the Nation's editorial pontiff, often rejected as a "tricky story".

Almost daily, either the president personally or Abraham Kiptanui – his Gromyko-faced chief of staff – would telephone the chief editors of all the newspapers, including the "freer" ones, to order them not to use a story. And so dastardly we were that, with a fawning "Yes, sir", we collectively killed many excellent stories.

But, of course, the son of Toroitich was a human being, not a stone. Indeed, Mr Moi had soft spots, which an editor could exploit if he was lucky enough to discover one. Quite early in my tenure at The Kenya Times, I learned one characteristic of the president which proved quite a boon to me.

Every time he telephoned to kill a story, I would – after my equivalent of the "Yes, sir" – proceed to explain to him not only the importance of The Kenya Times carrying the story but also what it might mean to us in terms of reputation if we threw the story away and our "private" competitors carried it.

The president would think about it for a long minute, and then: "Oh, okay. In that case, let me call you back." I knew from habit that, if he didn't call back, I could safely use the story.

But, if the president still wanted the story "spiked", it was either Kiptanui or Franklin Bett, his assistant, who called back.

"Spiking" was the Nation newsroom's pre-computer term for "trashing". Thus The Kenya Times often carried what looked like "scoops", and Wangethi Mwangi and Ali Hafidh – my respective Nation and Standard counterparts – were often reportedly miffed at this because it looked as if the president had ordered them to a kill a story merely in order for The Kenya Times to use it exclusively.

My other advantage over Wangethi and Ali was that I spent much time alone with the President. I thus came to know not only his thoughts on issues but also how to handle the sycophants who competed for his favour.

Working for Mr Moi was thus a long exciting moment. At 90, his avuncular warmth remains relevant to his nephews and nieces – namely, ourselves.

ochiengotani@gmail.com