Lamu District at the Crossroads: a Narrative of Chronic Trauma and Community Resistance1
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Title: Lamu District at the Crossroads: A Narrative of Chronic Trauma and Community Resistance1 By Ridwan Laher2 Africa Insight, Vol. 40 (4) March 2011, pp.81-92 Abstract: The Kenyan government’s plan to build a sea port in Lamu District has been met with a considerable amount of resistance by indigenous residents. The resistance is characterised by two interrelated concerns. The first concern is that the proposed port will destroy the history, heritage, and culture of the District. The second is that the port represents an additional “land grab” by the government who is yet to institute land adjudication. These two concerns have drawn residents together in protest in a manner that signifies their fears. The weight of their protest is tied to the substance of a chronic trauma that reaches back to colonialism and extends forward to the current era of national independence. The chronic trauma is characterised by grounded feelings of displacement, dispossession, and alienation. These feelings are conjured at present by the prospect of a port and its perceived disruption. The situation is made worse by the fact that the government has remained reluctant to engage the residents. This is not a reasonable option. To address the substance of a chronic trauma it is necessary to confront its overall 1 Introduction The destruction that European colonialism wrought on African societies resulted in a chronic trauma that has endured into the post-colonial era. The substance of this trauma can be found in the persistent and often violent struggle to re-create and reconfigure the African image and condition. Few issues capture the severity and weight of re-imagining African identity and its relationship to the independent nation-state like the struggle over land reform does.3 It is undoubtedly the most divisive and inflammatory issue that signifies and embodies the chronic trauma caused by colonialism. The consequences of this chronic trauma are permanent and subsequent generations after colonialism are not exempt from its disfigurement. Kenya like most African nation-states is still mired in the processes and business of land reform. The lack of real progress in addressing the land issue has led to episodic violence and civil unrest. In the aftermath of the 2007 elections Kenya descended into a virtual bloodbath of ethnic-based violence in which the issue of land ownership and land tenure was prominent. When the violence ended more than a thousand people were dead and the nation was left reeling and debased.4 It then became clear that if Kenya is to avoid a total meltdown it would have to create the political conditions that will protect the democratic rights of it citizens and couple it to an equitable settlement of land claims stemming from the decades of colonialism. But these are not easy lessons to learn with solutions readymade for implementation. The often conflicting political and economic interests that attend to national development planning and its relationship to land reform are persistent obstacles.5 This article is an interdisciplinary case study. It utilises a narrative analysis drawn from interviews to contextualise a growing conflict over land and development in Kenya’s Coast Province. Specifically, the focus is on the response of Lamu District residents to the news that the Kenyan government, without community consultation, is going to develop a sea in the District. The port is part of a multi-billion dollar (US) plan the government says is in the national interests of Kenya.6 The vast majority of residents disagree vehemently and they are resisting. The theoretical contention here is that the reaction of the residents must be contextualised in their ongoing fears about losing their history, heritage, and culture.7 These fears are structurally tied to the tenuous situation over land ownership. The sea port is suspiciously viewed as a “land grab” by the government and evidence that the political leadership in Nairobi care little for the welfare of Lamu District and its indigenous people. The analysis here enters into this contentious and bitter space to understand the reactions of the residents. The focus is not on the feasibility of the proposed sea port. Rather, it is to contextualise the expressed fears of the residents inside the concept of an ongoing trauma that has its roots in the destabilisation of colonialism. It is argued that the situation is too serious to be ignored. To avoid further political instability and even violence the government must engage the residents in a transparent and democratic manner. 2 Theorizing the Chronic Trauma of Colonialism It is usual to expect that when we speak of trauma the reference is to an individual experience. A rape survivor, for example, can be described as having suffered a trauma. The psychiatric diagnosis of such a trauma would normally include disruptive symptoms which may even threaten the health and long-term wellbeing of the victim. These disruptive symptoms may include feelings of loss, sadness, meaninglessness, alienation, forgetfulness, hurt, and anger. The experience may also move the rape victim to believe that life will never be the same no matter what may happen next. This profound loss of meaning cannot be underestimated if the rape victim is to survive in a holistic sense. In recent decades the concept of trauma has been extended beyond the individual to include groups of people.8 A group may be a nation or it may be groupings of people inside a nation or across nations. The difference between an individual trauma and a group trauma is that in the latter the entire group is affected. A group trauma is, therefore, described as a collective trauma. In a collective trauma the disruption to the socio-political system poses a threat for the entire group. The symptoms are shared throughout the group and are too pronounced to be ignored. It is interesting to note that the disruptive or maladaptive symptoms that present in individual traumas are also found in group traumas. In effect, a group trauma also raises feelings and urgent questions about loss, meaning, and how to cope or even survive. A group trauma is no less a calling into question of reality and the meaning of life than an individual trauma. There are essentially two types of collective traumas: an acute trauma and a chronic trauma.9 An acute trauma is experienced over a relatively short time frame and it is usually described by the sudden and obtrusive manner that it disrupts the routine of a group. Though an acute trauma has implications for the entire group it is mostly understood to be transitional. The assassination of a president or prominent political leader, for example, has implications for the entire nation but it is not permanent in its effect. Life usually returns to normal after a relatively short period as the group comes to terms with the appalling incident. Natural disasters like typhoons or earthquakes also fall into the category of acute traumas. Chronic traumas on the other hand are not transitional because they grow out of longstanding contradictions in the socio-political system. A chronic trauma calls into question the very foundation upon which a nation is based. Unlike an acute trauma, a chronic trauma is not an isolated event but rather a series of festering events that produce permanent changes. The consequences of a chronic trauma have the added element of being generational in character. In other words, a chronic trauma is not isolated to just one generation but rather its effects carry over to subsequent generations.10 European colonialism in Africa is a prominent example of a chronic trauma with sweeping socio-political consequences that are permanent and consequential for all generations of Africans subsequent to the establishment of colonies. Colonialism disrupted and destroyed the socio-political structures of African life and replaced it with oppressive alien structures 3 and value systems. The very meaning of African life was called into question as the socio- political foundations were shifted permanently. Land belonging to Africans was confiscated without compensation and people were moved en masse into inhospitable and infertile land. This removal from ancestral lands disconnected Africans from their livelihoods, religion, and culture. In its place Africans were racialised and artificially lumped together into constructed nation-states. The past and its way of life grew distant except for the collection of memories (collective memory) as Africans were forced to work and pay taxes to support their colonization and subjugation.11 The end of colonialism did not solve the alienation and dispossession suffered. Post- colonial African states have struggled to repossess the past in such a manner that provides a meaningful break. The outcome is that despite the change in political guard the effects of the chronic trauma continue. At stake in the postcolonial era are the same questions about loss, meaning, and how to recreate and reconcile the past. These are existential questions made more complex by new layers of complexity that has been added to the postcolonial condition in an ever changing and globalizing world. Old and new generations of Africans cannot escape the ongoing struggle to come to terms with the massive disruption of colonialism. They are vexed in the struggle to make sense of what has been described as “the ugliness of the past.”12 The layers of alienation and dispossession wrought by colonialism and its consequences in the postcolonial era are well documented in the literature.13 Inside of the post-colonial Kenyan nation-state the struggle to come to terms with the subjugation of colonialism is a permanent struggle. The wide-reaching consequences of colonialism find Kenyans of all generations seeking to re-create meaning, to re-establish or recover lost identities, and to make sense of the disorder and disruption suffered over generations.