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                  Politics

                  Business as Usual: The Kasese Massacre and Power Politics in Uganda

                  8 min read.

                  The patterns of state violence in Uganda are sadly repetitive as the ruling party obstructs burgeoning criticism to President Yoweri Museveni’s decades-long grip on power.

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                  Business as Usual: The Kasese Massacre and Power Politics in Uganda
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                  Baluku Bismark was 14 years old when he sat for his school exams in early November 2016 with the goal of becoming a health worker in Kasese, western Uganda. A few weeks later, Baluku was among those killed by the Ugandan army during an attack on the region’s cultural institution, known as the Obusinga Bwa Rwenzururu (OBR).

                  By the end of a two-day assault on 26 and 27 November 2016 the military had killed 155 people using live ammunition and intentional fires; images of raging infernos and piles of bodies circulated on social media. Community members had killed at least 14 policemen. It was eight months after that year’s presidential and primary elections.

                  Baluku is one of many Ugandan citizens whose fate was sealed by state agents in the name of “restoring order”. In each instance, those agents “take orders from above” and are shielded from any accountability. Dig deeper and it is about power and votes.

                  Uganda is scheduled to hold elections on 14 January 2021. Ten opposition candidates, including former musician and member of parliament, Hon. Robert Kyagulanyi, popularly known as Bobi Wine, are challenging President Museveni who has controlled nearly every aspect of government in Uganda since 1986.

                  As expected, the presidential campaign, which officially began on 9 November 2020, has been marred by partisan law enforcement. Already, but unsurprisingly, state violence is defining the campaigns. Like previous presidential rival Dr Kizza Besigye, prominent opposition candidates Kyagulanyi and Patrick Amuriat have faced harassment, beatings, and various criminal charges. On 18 November police arrested Kyagulanyi during a rally in Eastern Uganda; Amuriat was arrested in Gulu. The arrests sparked spontaneous demonstrations in several towns, with the youth demanding their release. News reports indicate that security forces shot at least 45 people and hundreds more were injured.

                  For people in Kasese, these events are occurring as they prepare to vote in the first election since the horrific bloodshed that took place exactly four years ago this week. Unpacking the power politics behind the Kasese massacres is critical to understanding Uganda’s elections and the President’s stranglehold on power. It also tells a dismal story of total impunity no matter the scale of the killing.

                  Obusinga Bwa Rwenzururu and cultural institutions in Uganda

                  The Obusinga Bwa Rwenzururu is the cultural institution, or kingdom, of people that traditionally live in the western Rwenzori Mountains along Uganda’s border with Congo. The institution itself is headquartered in Kasese district.

                  Political recognition of cultural institutions in Uganda is part of the complex path that led to President Museveni’s ascension to power in 1986. For example, as a way of soliciting the support of the predominantly Baganda people of the central region, Museveni agreed to restore the region’s Buganda Kingdom which had been abolished in 1966 under the first post-colonial government.

                  But President Museveni, a master of political compromise, understood the delicate balance required. Buganda’s cultural leader was permitted to formally exist but he wasn’t allowed any actual political power. Over the years, as a form of bargaining for allegiance, Museveni has slowly accepted the restoration of other cultural institutions, such as the Bunyoro-Kitara in the west, and the Busoga and Tooro?Kingdoms in the east and southwest, respectively. In a country as ethnically and linguistically diverse as post-colonial Uganda, these cultural institutions and their leaders can command significant loyalty and community support.

                  Such devotion was on full display in September 2009 when Museveni, seeking to curtail the influence of the Buganda Kingdom, sought to limit the freedom of movement of the kingdom’s leadership. Loyalists quickly took to the streets in protest. By the end of two days, security forces had killed at least 45 people to quell the uprising and the Luganda-speaking radios had been taken off the air.

                  Shortly thereafter, and despite criticism from those who deemed it unconstitutional, Uganda passed a law barring cultural leaders from participating in partisan politics or providing a platform for any politician. However, most cultural institutions have often remained influential, if constrained, despite efforts to rein in their influence using this law or attempts to co-opt them into the ruling party.

                  In 2006, Uganda held the first multiparty elections since Museveni first came to power through a military takeover. Already in power for 20 years, Museveni suffered what some felt was a humiliating political defeat in Kasese, with the opposition presidential candidate Dr Besigye garnering 56 per cent of the total votes to Museveni’s 45 per cent.

                  Some pundits interpreted the result as a rebuke to Museveni for ignoring the grievances of the Rwenzururu cultural institution in its plea for official recognition. In an attempt at political expediency, Museveni finally acquiesced in October 2009 – a few weeks after the violent suppression of the Buganda kingdom supporters. The Omusinga, or King in the Bakonzo language, was coronated and the Rwenzururu cultural institution was restored just in time for the campaign for the February 2011 elections. Museveni won the area vote and secured two seats for his party in parliament. But the recognition wasn’t without its critics, and clashes between pro- and anti-Obusinga forces escalated. Intercommunal fighting led to the displacement of both the ethnic Bakonzo and the Bamba, another ethnic group in the region. The government stepped in but was increasingly perceived to be siding with those opposed to the King.

                  Five years later, the opposition Forum for Democratic Change fared well in the Rwenzori region. All parliamentary and local posts in Kasese went to the opposition. National Resistance Movement (NRM) strongmen, such as Defense Minister Crispus Kiyonga, lost their parliamentary posts.

                  The relationship between the President and the King had been rocky for a few years prior to the election but the election results clearly indicated that the ruling party was losing traction in the region. Ruling party mobilisers started working harder to co-opt the king’s support base, sowing the seeds of instability.

                  Kasese in November 2016

                  Four years later, the full story of the horrific killings that took place in Kasese in November 2016 remains shrouded in secrecy. The government has never published the names of those killed or allowed independent investigations into why its army massacred almost 150 of its own citizens over two days. Spokespeople have only indicated that those who died were “terrorists” who sought to “take over Uganda”. Despite arresting and imprisoning over 180 people, the government has never presented any evidence in court and never proceeded to trial. The people arrested in November 2016 languish in prison to this day

                  Sporadic conflicts between communities, at times involving security forces, flared up after the 2016 elections. In one incident, the Police Flying Squad shot and killed a suspected Omusinga loyalist in a market as he bought food. A government soldier was later killed by machete, allegedly for spying on the King near the palace compound.

                  Rumours began to spread in Kasese at this time that the government would be handing over a demobilisation fee to the Omusinga’s “royal guards” – volunteers who are loyal to the Kingdom and work on its behalf. In a very low-income part of the country, such enticements inflated the ranks of the royal guards as people waited for handouts to support their families.

                  Eventually, word spread that the payout was imminent. But as people gathered in the palace compound on November 25, the military arrived and Kasese was brought to a standstill. Under the command of General Peter Elwelu, Uganda People’s Defence Force (UPDF) soldiers, encircled the palace and told the people inside that they could not leave. Tensions escalated and, eventually, soldiers shot and killed eight royal guards at the kingdom’s office in town. The rumour that the kingdom was under attack spread into the outlying sub-counties. Community members attacked some police posts and 14 police officers and 32 civilians were killed in the conflicts. The next day, the UPDF made its biggest move, allegedly ordering royal guards to disband or face attack.

                  At 1 p.m. the UDPF launched an assault on the palace, shooting live ammunition and setting thatched roofing alight. The king was removed by force and transferred to Kampala. Photos of piles of bodies, some with their arms tied behind their backs, circulated on social media. Some of the dead were buried in a mass grave near a military barrack. Some people were never found. At least 15 children last seen inside the palace are missing to this day; 180 people were charged with murder, terrorism and treason. Those who managed to escape went into hiding and to this day, the palace remains closed.

                  Two months after the attack General Elwelu told a local newspaper that the “place had lost its legitimacy. It was no longer a palace. It became a legitimate military target because it had become a command post for all that was happening in Rwenzori.”

                  There is no doubt that the events of November 2016 ended any pretense that the right to freedom of expression existed in the region. Many believe that Museveni would most likely have tolerated the Rwenzururu king had he not shown open support for the opposition. No one could seriously believe the government’s line that the king posed any meaningful security threat to the country or that he would be able to orchestrate any secession. But, clearly, cultural leaders needed to be shown that they could not behave like the Rwenzururu king. What if other kingdoms followed suit?

                  Since 2016, the Omusinga’s movements have been largely restricted to his house in Kampala. He was barred from travelling to the Rwenzoris, even after seeking the court’s permission to attend the June 2019 burial of his mother. Security officials say that since the attack on the palace in 2016, the region is now peaceful. The region nurses its wounds and struggles to care for an estimated 300 widows and 600 orphans left behind by the massacre.

                  Despite some condemnatory statements from foreign embassies and civil society, the government has not been pressured to show any real evidence of why that scale of bloodshed was lawful or proportionate. In a classic case of co-option, President Museveni appointed the king’s brother as a minister in his government.

                  What happened in November 2016 in Kasese can only be viewed as a stark reminder to all cultural leaders – and frankly to any critic of the regime – that they should stay away from candid engagement in politics or consider supporting Uganda’s political opposition.

                  Those arrested were left to rot in jail, far from their families. But as the 2021 elections approach, perhaps they are suddenly again useful to the electoral landscape?

                  Uganda’s upcoming elections?

                  As Bobi Wine ignites imaginations about new approaches to governance in Uganda, the government’s paranoia is at an all-time high and one can only imagine that there is significant work being done to ensure that the Rwenzori votes go to the ruling party. Word is already trickling out that the government is going to release those who have spent four years in prison without trial. But they will never be exonerated. It is likely that they are under significant pressure to admit some wrongdoing, to grovel and seek forgiveness from Museveni despite no clear evidence of their crimes having been presented. When Museveni releases the detainees just in time for the anniversary (and the voting,) he will demand blind loyalty. Even though his soldiers killed their families.

                  The patterns of state violence in Uganda are sadly repetitive; the ruling party obstructs burgeoning criticism to Museveni’s long stay in power. Organised dissent – Uganda’s cultural institutions, opposition members, civic groups, or just an outspoken citizen – is met with co-option, pressure and intimidation. A bank account is frozen, a cultural leader is coronated, a brown envelop of cash arrives. But at times, these efforts fail to silence the critics. Defiant voices rise up.

                  In that flashpoint, the state unleashes overwhelming violence against its own citizens and people like Baluku and many others die under the bullets of the state security agents. No previous military or police training supported by Uganda’s Western “partners in democracy” like the United States or United Kingdom prevents the blatant drive for political expediency.

                  In each incident – the Kayunga demonstration in 2009, the Walk to Work protests of 2011, the Kasese killings of 2016, the Free Bobi Wine demonstrations in November 2020, and countless other similar events – citizens, often innocent bystanders, or youth demonstrating against state actions are killed or arrested. Each time, the pro-government pundits quickly go on the attack, demonising those killed as terrorists or hooligans and then calling for peace.

                  Behind the scenes, those in jail will continue to suffer without being brought to trial, and with no credible evidence of their wrongdoing being produced. But no member of the security forces will face any questions to justify the bloodshed. International donors to Uganda’s ample security sector will momentarily issue condemnations and then return to the humdrum of diplomatic life in Kampala’s leafy suburbs. The graves of the dead, of people like Baluku from Kasese, are quickly forgotten.

                  If the government’s explanation of the reasons behind these horrific episodes is ever to be believed, it will need to hold both sides to account and be willing to allow for criticism, dissent and, most importantly, electoral loss. Military commanders, including generals like Elwelu, who allowed the killings of unarmed civilians, who allowed the bullets to fly, will need to be brought to open court, to answer tough questions from lawyers who don’t fear reprisals. As long as men like General Elwelu are promoted for killing civilians, as he was, the unabashed reliance on state violence as a political weapon in Uganda will continue. And horrific images of bloodied bodies – like those of November 2020 and November 2016 – will increase.

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                  Haruna Kanaabi is a Ugandan journalist and former editor of Shariat newspaper. In 1996, he was charged with sedition for his reporting and spent four months in Luzira Central Prison. Maria Burnett is a Senior Associate (non-resident) with the Center for Strategic and International Studies and previously worked with Human Rights Watch.

                  Politics

                  The History and Uncertain Future of Macadamia Farming in Kenya

                  The macadamia sector in Kenya faces many challenges that can be overcome through supportive policies and regulations.

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                  The History and Uncertain Future of Macadamia Farming in Kenya
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                  The Government in Kenya issued a blanket ban on the export of raw nuts in 2009 to allow local processors to gather enough materials for job creation in this labour intensive sector.

                  However, both the county and national governments have consistently failed to put in place all the necessary measures to support the macadamia sub-sector, which is rapidly emerging as an alternative cash crop to the declining coffee and tea sectors in the Mt. Kenya region. The crop has gained traction to non-traditional growing areas such as the Rift Valley and Western regions.

                  Although the macadamia nuts sub-sector has grown on its own since the ban was put in place, fears are now emerging that the country is likely to lose its grip on this niche market to new entrants due to the low quality of the nuts we have been producing.

                  In 2009, when Kenya banned the export of raw nuts, it had a firm grip on this niche market. There were only four other nut producing countries in the world –? Australia, South Africa, Kenya and Hawaii in the United States, with Kenya supplying about 20 per cent of the total global demand.

                  Between 90 and 95 per cent of Kenya’s macadamia is produced for export. Key export destinations for Kenyan macadamia are the US, the European Union, Japan, China, Hong Kong and Canada. This year, demand for Kenya’s macadamia globally declined by 40 per cent, according to the processors’ estimates, partly due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

                  New entrants who threaten Kenya’s global market include China, Guatemala, Malawi, Vietnam, Colombia, New Zealand, Mozambique, Brazil, Paraguay and Swaziland. In total, 15 countries in the world have joined the producing club in the last decade.

                  With funding and support of the Chinese government, the International Macadamia Research and Development Center, established in Lincang, China, now holds more market potential for macadamias than any other country on the planet, recording an 11-fold increase in macadamia consumption between 2012 and 2018.

                  A global macadamia nut symposium held in China two years ago, which was poised to be held in Kenya next year but cancelled due to the COVID-19 pandemic,? noted that as the global macadamia industry continues to grow, the need to deliver exceptional quality nuts will be more critical than ever.

                  The Nut Processors Association of Kenya (NutPAK)’s Chief Executive Officer, Mr Charles Muigai, said that this is where the biggest challenge for Kenya’s market competitiveness in the global arena lies because farmers are not faithful to producing quality nuts due to the low support the sector receives from the government and other actors.

                  With funding and support of the Chinese government, the International Macadamia Research and Development Center, established in Lincang, China, now holds more market potential for macadamias than any other country on the planet, recording an 11-fold increase in macadamia consumption between 2012 and 2018.

                  Value Chain Analysis for Macadamia Nuts from Kenya 2020, a report of the Netherlands’ Centre for the Promotion of Imports from Developing Countries, cited climate change, the impact of pests and diseases, poor good agricultural practices (GAP), lack of access to inputs, use of unsuitable or old macadamia varieties and immature harvesting as Kenya’s main undoing.

                  At a critical point of transition, following the ban, there was no functioning formal association of macadamia farmers. In 2009, the Ministry of Agriculture (MOA) initiated the creation of Macadamia Growers Association of Kenya (MGAK), which has remained without an office or a budget.

                  The macadamia sector, unlike tea and coffee, has evolved without any regulation or policy support from the government. The only main intervention was in 2009, when a ban was effected and again in 2018 when the ban was anchored in legislation.

                  History of macadamia farming in Kenya?

                  The production of macadamia nuts in Kenya traces its history from 1944 when a European settler called Bob Harries introduced the crop from Australia in his estate near Thika town for ornamental and household consumption purposes.

                  He would, two decades later, found Bob Harries Ltd. to invest in the widespread expansion of the crop by introducing two key macadamia types – M. Integrifolia and M. Tetraphylla – and other hybrids from Hawaii and California.

                  In 1968, he grafted his own seedling nurseries to create a source for non-African estate owners and African smallholder farmers in Central Kenya’s coffee growing zones, namely, Embu, Meru, Kirinyaga and Thika.

                  He also initiated a campaign to have the government commercialise the crop. A feasibility study carried out in 1974 by the Food and Agricultural Organisation (FAO) that gave a nod to the viability of the sector convinced the government to support macadamia processing and marketing.

                  The government facilitated the creation of a joint venture between Japanese investors led by Yoshiyuki Sato and a Kenyan, Pius Ngugi, in setting up the Kenya Nuts Company (KNC), which today still runs the factory in Thika.

                  Sato had founded and run a textile factory in Nairobi since 1960 while Ngugi, a large-scale macadamia and coffee farmer from Thika, was in search of a market for his nuts.

                  The company would build a modern processing plant and establish its own macadamia plantations at an initial nuclear farm of about 400ha. It also set up a nursery for the propagation of adapted and grafted seedlings to supply out-growers.

                  By 1975, the company was processing nuts from its own estate as well as from other out-growers. It enjoyed a monopoly purchase right for in-shell nuts, sourcing 90 per cent of these from 140 smallholder coffee cooperative societies, as well as 47 additional buying centres.

                  Farmers delivered the harvest to cooperatives and collection centres and got a receipt with a pre-agreed price per kilogram. KNC would then collect the nuts when enough quantity has been bunched, and transfer the payments to the cooperative banks, where farmers collected cash by producing their receipts. Cooperative would earn a 10 per cent commission.

                  Japan continued to support the macadamia sector for over twenty years, culminating in the construction of the National Horticultural Research Centre where agronomists focused more on grafted seedling varieties. KNC multiplied these in their nurseries and by the time the Japanese left in 1997, it had distributed over 1.5 million seedlings.

                  Like the cashew sector, the macadamia sector was also affected by the liberalisation of economy. Being part of the private sector, KNC could not be privatised, which salvaged it from the decay that followed the cashew sector.

                  However, liberalisation accelerated domestic competition. In 1994, Peter Munga, the Equity Bank founder, opened a macadamia processing factory called Farm Nut Co. in Maragua, Muranga district. He had made some foray into buying coffee from farmers and realised that they were also selling macadamia at low prices. He decided to venture into marketing and processing the nuts.

                  Unlike his well-established rival, his firm lacked logistical infrastructure and links to cooperatives. The idea of brokers, who had played a marginal role by only collecting macadamia from distant locations, came in handy. With the entry of Farm Nut, the role of middlemen became predominant.

                  Like the cashew sector, the macadamia sector was also affected by the liberalisation of economy. Being part of the private sector, KNC could not be privatised, which salvaged it from the decay that followed the cashew sector.

                  Essentially, brokers would go directly to the farmers, offer better and direct prices than the cooperatives had done. Consequently, this significantly reduced farmers’ transaction costs of bringing nuts to collection centres as well as collecting their payments from banks.

                  Also, reduced volumes from the cooperatives increased processors’ transactional costs. It became more convenient for them to deal with the middlemen, and by the early 2000s, the cooperatives’ role in the macadamia supply chain diminished.

                  In the early 1990s and when the macadamia prices passed Sh30 mark per kilo in 1997, farmers in Central Kenya became more interested in macadamia farming due also to a fall in coffee prices. Production multiplied five-fold within six years only, crossing the 10,000 tonnes threshold in 1998.

                  The Chinese connection?

                  A dramatic shift in the industry would come in the early 2000s when China became a mass consumer of the nuts. The emergence of a growing middle class in China with an appetite for in-shell nuts and container ships increasingly docking in Mombasa, demanding to return with loaded cargo, tempted Chinese traders to venture into the export of raw macadamia nuts from the country.

                  The first Chinese in-shell exporter was a Mr Yang who contracted brokers in Embu in 2004. They transversed the region with loudspeakers mounted on their vans offering Sh40 (US$ 0.48) – twice what processors had offered. They would a year later spread tentacles to Meru, where they remained for close to five years.

                  Local processors would buy nuts mainly from Kiambu, Muranga, Kirinyaga, and Nyeri, where Kikuyu processors had established processing units and created networks with local communities who they hired for factory jobs. This helped to lock the Chinese out of these regions.

                  Estimates by the USDA Foreign Agricultural Service indicated that nearly 60 per cent of macadamia had been exported in-shell in 2008, implying that exporters had been able to purchase most of the crop from Embu and Meru. This posed a huge threat, bringing processors together to push the government to ban the export of raw nuts that finally came on 16th June 2009.

                  With the exit of the Chinese, and the creation of a processors’ and farmers’ associations, there was hope that the industry would get organised and get the necessary support.

                  Far from it. Both the farmers and processors would soon be left to their own devices, competing among each other to fight the Chinese who were still smuggling nuts out of Kenya. However, the competition and the need to create more volume saw processors heighten production five-fold in the last decade to reach close to 50,000 metric tonnes last year. They also grew in number from 5 to over 30, a move that saw farmers get an unprecedented Sh200 a kilo despite complains emerging that the quality did not justify this price.

                  This year, the sluggish global demand has driven processors away from the field, leaving behind brokers who are buying the nuts for as low as Sh50 a kilo. Joshua Muriira, the Chairman of the Meru Macadamia Farmers Association, said that the absence of processors is deliberate since they have conspired to offer Sh85 a kilo and it has nothing to do with the COVID 19.

                  The idea of an export ban has failed to fade away in Meru and Embu, where people still believe that were the Chinese buyers still available, things would be different. They started protesting from the onset when the prices dropped from a high of Sh100 a kilo to between Sh40 and Sh60 after the Chinese exit.

                  The processors blamed the poor prices on brokers and the resultant high share of immature nuts. A narrative was also pushed that if they started selling the nuts to processors directly – rather than via brokers – good prices would return.

                  After the first ban in 2009, the Chinese would a year later successfully lobby the new agriculture minister, Sally Kosgei, to lift the ban on raw nut exports for three months on 28 May 2010. The official rationale for the lifting the ban was “to facilitate the mop-up of the excess raw nuts with farmers”.

                  On 15 December 2010, when Kosgei yet again decided to lift the ban (Gazette notice No. 16229) for a period of over six months until 30 June 2011, quoting the same rationale, this time, NutPAK successfully challenged this in the High Court on 21 December 2010.

                  It was only in 2016 that the MP for Maragua, a region not known to produce macadamia in plenty, introduced a motion against the ban in Parliament, arguing it was hurting farmers. The house’s agriculture committee rejected the petition on the grounds that it was not in the interests of the industry.

                  There was evidence of continued presence of the Chinese in Kenya, even after the ban. On February 2017, seven Chinese macadamia buyers were arrested in Meru for allegedly doing business in the country without the required licences and documents. Embu and Meru farmers protested against their arrest in March 2017.

                  On one occasion, during the gubernatorial party primaries for the 2017 election, the gubernatorial candidate for Embu, Senator Lenny Kivuti, used the opportunity and joined the protests in Mutunduri in Embu North sub-county, accusing his opponent and current governor, Martin Wambora, of colluding with the domestic processor, Privam Nuts, and saying it was wrong for the police to “harass the foreigners because the latter were offering a better price to the farmers”.

                  On February 2017, seven Chinese macadamia buyers were arrested in Meru for allegedly doing business in the country without the required licences and documents. Embu and Meru farmers protested against their arrest in March 2017.

                  There were protests against the ban throughout 2018. In late January 2018, prior to the legal opening of the harvesting season on 20 February, the government, through the Nuts and Oil Crop Directorate, again arrested and deported eleven Chinese macadamia buyers in Meru who were buying at the stellar price of Sh170, and whose arrest was by opposed by several Meru MPs, farmers and brokers.

                  Areas of intervention?

                  The main opportunity for yield improvement, according to the Centre for the Promotion of Imports from Developing countries report, lies with supporting extension service providers, such as the Kenya Agriculture and Livestock Organisation (KALRO) and the Agriculture and Food Authority (AFA), to increase farmers’ capacities and to multiply and disseminate high-yielding macadamia seedlings that are suited to the different macadamia growing regions of Kenya.

                  There are two main areas of intervention for quality improvement. The first involves supporting processors who wish to obtain loans to buy crops in advance, thereby addressing farmers’ need for quick cash. The second is the implementation of region-relevant harvesting moratoria.

                  Upstream traceability of Kenyan macadamia is severely challenged by the large number of smallholder farmers and independent buying agents. Small plantations typify Kenya’s production system as opposed to other producers like China, South Africa and Australia, which have large plantation farming. Around 200,000 small farms in Kenya currently produce an estimated 42,500 tonnes of in-shell nuts.

                  Adopting traceability systems, some of which are part of mobile cash applications, could help in addressing this problem.

                  There are two main areas of intervention for quality improvement. The first involves supporting processors who wish to obtain loans to buy crops in advance, thereby addressing farmers’ need for quick cash. The second is the implementation of region-relevant harvesting moratoria.

                  Moreover, support should go to the creation of a registry of farmers, including data such as landholding size and age, number of macadamia trees and macadamia varieties and traders. This registry should be governed and accessed by members of the sector’s associations and AFA.

                  Communication and dialogue among macadamia stakeholders is lacking. Often, conflicting interests among actors lead to rivalry.

                  To address this, sector associations should establish, adopt and enforce codes of conduct to regulate the practices of sector players. Dialogue and transparency should be the ruling principles of this code of conduct. Moreover, all actors should discuss a multi-stakeholder strategy to address the challenges facing the macadamia sector.

                  Although some processors have links to European markets, the notion prevails among EU buyers that Kenyan macadamia nuts are of inferior quality. Moreover, processors regard the EU market regulations as more stringent than those of the US.

                  To address poor EU market access, the creation and marketing of a Kenyan macadamia brand should be explored.

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                  Politics

                  South Africa: The Culture Wars Are a Distraction

                  When our political parties only have recourse to the realm of identity and culture, it is a smokescreen for their lack of political legitimacy and programmatic content. It is cynically unpolitical, and it’s all bullshit.

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                  South Africa: The Culture Wars Are a Distraction
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                  Almost nine months ago, South Africa entered into a lockdown to curb the spread of COVID-19. The lockdown is still in place, but back then the restrictions imposed were incredibly severe: no one could leave their home unless to purchase food or medicine, and the now familiar category of “essential workers” were the only ones permitted to travel for work. Now that these rules have been lifted, some people are desperate to soak in the warm weather and taste a slice of normality. It’s easy to forget that the implementation of lockdown spelled confusion and disaster for most;? easier still, to ignore the fact that despite the gradual reduction of reported cases, the economic impacts are only really appearing now, and things are looking grim.

                  And so, the debacle unfolding last week over retail company Clicks’ use of a racist advert on its website, is the clearest illustration of the erratic consciousness which characterizes South African public life. The advert, selling the American hair care brand TRESemmé, depicted a white woman’s hair as “fine & flat” and “normal” while a black woman’s hair was described as “dry & damaged” plus “frizzy & dull.” It goes without saying that the ad is reprehensible, offensive, and deserves the outrage its sparked. Yet, this is not the first thing Clicks has done in the last six months which is objectionable—in April, its workers accused them of?forcing them to work without pay. It was also at one stage accused of price gouging, and, it wasn’t the only company implicated—across the board and throughout the lockdown, corporations partook in unfair labor and pricing practices in order to shift the economic burdens of the crisis to workers and consumers. Why did these practices produce little outrage?

                  The Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF), South Africa’s third largest party and one officially styling itself as “Marxist-Leninist-Fanonian” (they copy the late Hugo Chavez’s Bolivarian movement in their red uniforms), has been leading the moral crusade against Clicks. In doing so they have been incredibly effective, beginning last week with country-wide protests at a range of Clicks stores, and ending it by reaching an agreement with Clicks’ holding company to remove all TRESemmé products from its stores to be replaced by locally produced ones, as well as to donate 50,000 sanitary pads, sanitizers and masks to rural settlements chosen by the EFF.

                  These actions marked the return of the EFF to South Africa’s political scene after a long hibernation during most of the lockdown. In its initial stages, the EFF’s most notable call was for people to be quarantined on Robben Island. As it then became apparent that the state’s socio-economic response was lacking, prompting a mass civil-society mobilization to organize food parcels, extend social grants provision and ensure that there was basic support for the poor and vulnerable, the EFF was glaringly absent. But, this is supposed to be South Africa’s working-class party, and much as some on the left have long been disabused of the notion that the working-class is whom they represent, for the most part it’s still believed that the EFF is radical in some meaningful sense.

                  When the EFF first emerged as a political party in 2013, it was widely cheered as being a viable option to fill the void left in working-class politics in the wake of the Marikana massacre as the ruling African National Congress’ hegemony began to crumble. While the composition of its admirers included a diverse range—disgruntled local businesspeople, university students and the urban unemployed—its militant populist style was touted as left in orientation given its advocacy for policies such as nationalizing South Africa’s mines (which it is no longer that committed to), and land expropriation without compensation. (Two years later, as South Africa’s campuses erupted with #RhodesMustFall and #FeesMustFall, the EFF won SRC elections on many campuses.)

                  Nowadays, the party has become too loaded with contradictions for it to be considered left-wing in any credible sense, both in its ideology and practice. Besides its lack of internal democracy and the cult of personality surrounding its leader Julius Malema, some of the EFF’s lead figures have been embroiled in various financial scandals including municipal tender fraud and the ransacking of a mutual bank primarily serving informal rural, friendly societies. Throughout its history, the EFF has never had any moorings in the organized working class; it lacks any trade union affiliation (it enjoyed some informal links to the Marikana workers union, AMCU, but it was never formalized), nor does it have any concrete ties to other social movements like those for the unemployed or in mining affected communities.

                  Despite this, it clings vehemently to the rhetoric of class, and proclaims its opposition to capitalism although playing almost no part in trying to build a working class movement in South Africa. How then, are they still venerated by most as progressive, and taken at their word by even their naysayers who believe them to be sincerely anti-capitalist?

                  What explains this is that the terms of radical politics in the public discourse, have shifted from a materialist, class-rooted mode, to an identity-based, culturalist one, and the EFF have contributed to this shift and are its biggest beneficiary. In South Africa, where race is deeply embedded in everyday thinking and experience, the EFF has capitalized and revived the idea that black people possess a distinctive, social identity, therefore constituting a “people” whose political and material interests are uniform.

                  By positing some homogenous “black interest,” the EFF is able to flatten the contradictions of its political project, which at this point looks simply like a kind of economic nationalism, less opposed to capitalism per se, and more opposed to the fact that South Africa’s capitalist class continues to be dominated by “white monopoly capital.” The EFF’s biggest problem isn’t that capitalism concentrates wealth in the hands of the few, but that this few are predominantly foreign, white or Indian.

                  In this crucial way, the EFF’s class project is actually just?continuous?with that of the ruling African National Congress, which since 1999 has been facilitating the rise of a supposedly patriotic, black bourgeoisie whose economic upliftment is meant to be synonymous with the progress of black people as a whole. South Africa’s political class in the main has never parted with this thesis. All that’s really contested, is how swiftly or not this is happening. According to the EFF—along with the Radical Economic Transformation (RET) faction of the ANC, led from the shadows by Malema’s former mentor and former president Jacob Zuma—it is not happening quickly enough.

                  In South Africa, where race is deeply embedded in everyday thinking and experience, the EFF has capitalized and revived the idea that black people possess a distinctive, social identity, therefore constituting a “people” whose political and material interests are uniform.

                  Instead of?being a serious challenge to the ANC’s apparently declining hegemony, the EFF is more accurately an expression of its resilience. The EFF’s sustained inability to articulate a coherent political identity on its own stems from the simple fact that rather than being fascist (as?some?proclaim), it simply is just a wandering faction of the ANC, its prodigal son.

                  Yet, it is Frantz Fanon himself who warns against thinking that this project of establishing a state-led, indigenized capitalism is in any meaningful sense progressive. As he writes in the?Wretched of the Earth:

                  Yet the national bourgeoise never stops calling for the nationalization of the economy and the commercial sector. In its thinking, to nationalize does not mean placing the entire economy at the service of the nation or satisfying all its requirements. To nationalize does not mean organizing the state on the basis of a new program of social relations. For the bourgeoisie, nationalization signifies very precisely the transfer into indigenous hands of privileges inherited from the colonial period.

                  Even if we could successfully transform the capitalist class so that it was demonstrably black, the underclass to which it is causally connected to, whose deprivation makes possible the other’s wealth, would still be black!?Framing inequality primarily as racial disparity misses that it is now actually intra-racial inequality that is contributing more to total inequality. But more importantly, it expresses a fundamentally misplaced concern about the problem. As Adolph Reed Jnr. and Walter Benn Michaels?recently wrote, “What we’re actually saying every time we insist that the basic inequality is between blacks and whites is that only the inequalities we care about are those produced by some form of discrimination—that inequality itself isn’t the problem.”

                  The racism that was on display in the advert approved and displayed by Clicks is very much present in our society. But, it is not the definitive issue of our time, nor does it have to be for us to give it appropriate concern and attention. In corporate workplaces, university settings, Model-C or private schools and hospitality venues like hotels or restaurants, racial discrimination and prejudice very much persist and must be opposed. But ultimately, these are also (elite) spheres where the majority of the country are excluded from altogether, and the consequences of the struggles for recognition operative in them have little bearing for the lives of most poor, black people.

                  Racism does have a significant bearing on their lives, but to paraphrase and modify?Stuart Hall’s turn of phrase, it is an experience of race lived through the modality of class. Consider how throughout most of the lockdown for example, dangerous stereotypes were peddled about the working class. When an increase of the child support grant was being considered, poor and working black people were often cast as financially irresponsible and bound to use the funds on drugs. When the lockdown began easing and returning workers refused to work in unsafe conditions, they were lazy and selfish. When the alcohol prohibition was lifted, and there were spikes in trauma incidents at hospitals, it was poor and working class people who were blamed. It was the middle class and ruling elite of all races and across the political spectrum that happily took part in this demonization.

                  By positing some homogenous “black interest,” the EFF is able to flatten the contradictions of its political project, which at this point looks simply like a kind of economic nationalism, less opposed to capitalism per se, and more opposed to the fact that South Africa’s capitalist class continues to be dominated by “white monopoly capital.”

                  As my friend and comrade Awande Buthelezi once eloquently put it to me (channeling Walter Rodney), in post-apartheid South Africa, it’s not so much that people are poor because they’re black, but they are black because they’re poor. What this means is that that the most egregious racialization, that is, literally treating particular groups as possessing characteristics inherent to their nature, happens concomitantly with their particular economic subjugation. What people now often refer to as “classism” is actually just racism by another word. The word classism was only popularized to accommodate the false notion that black people couldn’t be racist, not least against their own race—which misses the important point that while race isn’t real, racism definitely is. And to express contempt for working class people, treating them as if they were a cultural identity (an apparently primitive and conservative one at that), and not?an objective social relation rooted in political economy, is precisely to engage in racializing them. The basic insight of all this is that racial ideology provides the justification for continued economic exploitation. As the American sociologist?Oliver Cromwell Crox?explains, “to justify humanly degrading labor, the exploiters must argue that the workers are innately degraded.”

                  Why then, are people poor? It’s always been because of capitalism, and at the moment every single opposition force in South Africa treats it as its perennial premise. To borrow a phrase from?Karen and Barbara Fields, people treat apartheid as if its chief business was producing white supremacy rather than mining gold, diamonds and platinum. Our society is essentially classist, therefore it is essentially racist. But, what is liquidated in the turn of understanding social cleavages exclusively through identity is the class antagonism which actually grounds the material interests which shape political life—the antagonism between wage labor, capital, and the professional managerial strata in between.

                  In forever using race as a proxy for class, we ignore that race is no longer a reliable predictor for class position, and that this was always bound to become the case in a country where black people are a substantial numerical majority. The interests of black people are not, could not be the same, and to posit them as such is to make possible a public sphere in which actual working class interests are sidelined and ignored. With the public sphere now more or less being entirely the?vapid abyss that is social media, a significant portion of the country is excluded from public life; for example,?only 53% of South Africans have access to the internet.

                  The gravity of the issues facing the majority of South Africans such as skyrocketing unemployment,?a deepening hunger crisis,?water shortages?and drought, as well as the crisis of social reproduction which manifests in?escalating gender based violence?made last week’s debacle feel painfully myopic. South Africans have always known the magnitude of the challenges before us, but what we are still unwilling to admit is that we are in the grips of a global, systemic, and worsening capitalist crisis, not simply seeing through a passing pandemic or set back by temporary issues of governance and state incapacity.? In the face of all this, the EFF’s actions are nothing more than asking that corporations be woke in their profiteering, leaving production for profit unchallenged as the basic principle of social organization.

                  It is Frantz Fanon himself who warns against thinking that this project of establishing a state-led, indigenized capitalism is in any meaningful sense progressive.

                  No political party in South Africa today presents a credible alternative, not even the Democratic Alliance, the official opposition who recently announced that it was officially adopting a policy of “non-racialism”—which is as laughable as the EFF claiming to be Marxist-Leninist-Fanonian. The DA sits on a pretend moral high ground and professes to be against racial identity politics while being committed to it in practice.

                  This year, the DA has campaigned to have farm murders (of white farmers) be declared a national emergency and categorized as hate crimes, treading not far from the right-wing conspiracies that claim there is a white genocide ongoing in South Africa.? Rather than accepting,?as the evidence shows, that this falls part of the general pattern of violent crime and social disorder and that poor black people are crime’s main victims (a symptom of worsening poverty and inequality), the DA tries to construct some special victimhood for white South Africans, despite remaining firmly wedded to the current economic system.

                  The culture wars in South Africa are simply a battle for the soul (read race) of the ruling class, the political elite scrambling to be captains of the Titanic while the ship sinks and the world around it burns. It’s all a distraction, and what’s left of the progressive left must ignore it. It is only the working class and its constituent social movements presenting a credible vision for social transformation in the short and long term, emphasizing that the emancipation of the working class is the emancipation of all. That there is a way out—and not merely drifting aimlessly and precariously on a lifeboat trying to survive, but towards a society free of domination and exploitation, one that is truly non-racial and non-sexist.

                  It is exactly this universalist impulse driving the solutions being put forward by a collection of burgeoning movement coalitions, such as the COVID-19 People’s Coalition, the South African Food Sovereignty Campaign and the Cry of the Xcluded, and include things like introducing?a basic income grant for all, to?adopting a people’s climate justice charter?and?green new deal?that ends our original sin of mineral extractivism while shielding us from ecological catastrophe. As the old order crumbles, rather than present solutions underpinned by a substantive vision of what constitutes the good society, South Africa’s political class resorts mostly to empty and inane posturing. When our political parties have recourse to the realm of identity and culture, it is a smokescreen for their lack of political legitimacy and programmatic content. It is cynically unpolitical. It’s all bullshit.

                  And sincerely, there is no time for bullshit. The stakes are too high. The left re-emerging in South Africa must declare unapologetically: no war but class war.

                  This post is from a new partnership between Africa Is a Country and The Elephant. We will be publishing a series of posts from their site once a week.

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                  Politics

                  Death by Pesticide

                  The government looks on as farmers and consumers are exposed to lethal pesticides that are banned in Europe but continue to be sold on the Kenyan market by European companies.

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                  Death by Pesticide
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                  Arrive in any remote village or town in Kenya and chances are high that the first thing you will spot is an agrovet shop stocked with all manner of pesticides. These chemical compounds are commonly used in agriculture and animal husbandry to kill pests, including insects and rodents, and to remove fungi and weeds and control disease vectors.

                  Synthetic pesticides are a child of the Second World War. In her book The Silent Spring, Rachel Carson notes that in the course of developing chemical weapons, some of the chemicals created in laboratories were found to be lethal for insects. The discovery was not entirely by chance as insects were widely used to test chemical agents intended for chemical warfare.

                  The association of synthetic pesticides with the Second World War has not deterred their usage across the globe. The Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) estimates that globally, about 4.12 million tonnes of pesticides were used in agriculture in 2018. In Kenya, where they are presumed to have been introduced during the colonial era, the demand for these pesticides (fungicides, herbicides, fumigants and insecticides) skyrocketed from 6,400 tonnes in 2015 to 15,600 tonnes in 2018.

                  This demand can be attributed to Kenya’s agricultural sector being heavily dependent on conventional methods of food production. This is often characterised by the heavy application of chemical pesticides and fertilisers in an effort to increase yields. For instance, in the larger tea and coffee plantations in Kenya, herbicides are seen as an effective method of weed control. A study by Chepkirui, Gatebe and Mburu reveals that small-scale tea growers in Bomet County preferred to use glyphosate to control weeds in the tea farms, with Roundup (distributed by Monsanto, now Bayer) being the most preferred at 53.7% compared to other formulations of glyphosate (Glycel, Touchdown, Wound-Out).

                  Glyphosate, a pesticide in the category of organophosphates, was first introduced in 1974 by Monsanto (now Bayer) and has been under great scrutiny for its ability to cause cancer. In March 2015, glyphosate was classified as probably carcinogenic to humans by the International Agency for Research on Cancer based on a positive association between exposure to glyphosate and cancer. One such case was Dewayne Johnson’s, a groundsman in the United States, where Monsanto was found liable for causing his cancer through exposure to Roundup.

                  Organophosphate pesticides (malathion, glyphosate, fenitrothion and chlorpyrifos) have been shown to be highly toxic to non-target species including humans, although they are still widely used in households and in agriculture. These chemical compounds were initially developed as human nerve gas agents in the 1930s and 1940s and later repurposed as insecticides.

                  Their insecticidal properties were discovered by a German scientist, Gerhard Schrader, in the late 1930s and soon afterwards the German government saw the value of these chemicals as new and devastating weapons in chemical warfare and the work on their development was declared a state secret. Some such as sarin and tabun were developed into deadly human nerve gases while others of a close chemical structure were used as insecticides after the Second World War.

                  Malathion is a neurotoxic organophosphate pesticide that has been classified by the International Agency for Research on Cancer as a probable carcinogen. Yet it is still sold in Kenya and is contained in 14 products according to information on the Pest Control Products Board (PCPB) website. Fenitrothion, another organophosphate pesticide that is known to be an endocrine disruptor (alters the hormonal system) and that is not approved for use in the European Union, was used by the Kenyan government to control the locust infestation that occurred in early 2020.

                  These and other organophosphates are responsible for thousands of cases of poisoning in Kenya. In 2016, R.K.A Sang and J. Kimani reported that 35 out of 716 individuals aged between 15 and 40 years attending Kericho Referral Hospital in March and April of that year suffered from organophosphate poisoning. These harmful effects are not only associated with organophosphates but also with other pesticides. For instance, a study to examine the impact of pesticides on the health of residents and horticultural workers in the Lake Naivasha Region found that horticultural workers who underwent a clinical examination exhibited more cardiovascular, respiratory and neurological disorders compared to other workers.

                  These pesticides not only impact our bodies but also the soil, food and water resources. Organochlorine pesticides (DDT, aldrin and endosulfan) were found in the soils in the Nyando River Catchment in 2015 despite being banned from use in Kenya in 1986, 2004 and 2011, respectively. Kenyan exports of horticultural produce have been rejected severally by the European Union for surpassing the maximum residue levels allowed. Sukuma wiki (kales) and tomatoes from Kirinyaga and Muran’ga counties were recently found to contain high levels of harmful pesticides.

                  Pesticides should therefore be a concern to us and their use and disposal should be more strictly regulated as they have the capability to enter and alter the most vital processes of the body in deadly and sinister ways. In Kenya, the PCPB, a statutory organ of the government, is responsible for the regulation, importation, exportation, manufacturing, distribution, transportation, sale, disposal and safe use of pest control products. It was formed under the Pest Control Products Act, Cap 346 of the Laws of Kenya. Since its enactment in 1982, this law governs the registration of many conventional chemical pesticides and biopesticides.

                  Currently, there are 19 active ingredients not listed in the European database and 77 have been withdrawn from the European market or are heavily restricted in their use due to potential chronic health effects, environmental persistence, and high toxicity towards fish or bees.

                  The Pest Control Products (Registration) (Amendment) Regulations, 2015 (Form A4 sections 3.7a, 3.8 and 3.9) require an applicant to show proof of registration of any new pesticides in the country of manufacture and in other countries. Also required is information on whether the new pesticide is registered in the country of formulation. It is therefore uncertain on what basis these pesticides were registered for use in Kenya.

                  Moreover, for any pesticide to be sold, used or withdrawn from the EU, it must be authorised in the EU country concerned as per Regulation (EC) No 1107/2009. This legislation regulates the introduction of pesticides in the EU market and lays out the rules and procedures for their authorisation.

                  Following the renewal of approval of an active substance, all pesticides containing that active substance must undergo a renewal assessment to make sure that products comply with the updated assessment of the active substance and with the new scientific and technical knowledge.

                  It is clear that some pesticide manufacturers do not register or re-register products they know would not be authorised in their home country within the EU but, for profit-making purposes, continue to produce and export those products to other countries such as Kenya. Manifestly, the PCPB does not carry out due diligence before approving such pesticides for use in Kenya despite its mandate to ensure that pesticides sold in the country have been assessed for safety to humans and the environment.

                  Pesticide registration standards in Kenya are often benchmarked against the European Union systems since the European Union follows a comprehensive regime and best practices in food systems as well as strictly applying the precautionary principle. Yet the fact is that the European Union is the second-highest exporter of pesticides to Kenya after China, and the products registered in Kenya, which have been withdrawn from the European market, are sold by European companies (77 products).

                  Despite there being 36 different European companies in the sector, more than half of the products (57%) are registered by BASF, Bayer Ag and Syngenta. Coincidentally, BASF and Bayer were part of the chemical companies that formed I.G Farben, a German chemical conglomerate, in December 1925. In the 1920s and 1930s, I.G Farben screened Zyklon B (a toxic gas made from hydrogen cyanide and originally developed as a pesticide) for Adolf Hitler’s programme to exterminate the Jews and used nerve gases on victims of the Holocaust in concentration camps. I.G Farben also specialised in the production of sarin and tabun, both of which are classified as organophosphates and were used as nerve gases in the Nazi concentration camps.

                  Kenyan farmers and consumers are highly exposed to lethal pesticides whose impact goes beyond altering the hormonal system of plants and insects and degrading the environment to also damage the immune and nervous systems of the human body. Given the financial muscle of the manufacturers, the use of these harmful pesticides remains unchallenged by the government agencies supposed to protect Kenyans.

                  It is on these grounds that civil society organisations such as Route to Food, Kenya Organic Agriculture Network (KOAN) and Greenpeace Africa are seeking support from members of the public through a petition to place a ban on these harmful pesticides and encourage the use of biopesticides and plant extracts in food production.

                  Biopesticides and plant extracts such as Neem, chilli and garlic are effective in the control of pests and diseases with no negative health and environmental impacts. Ecological and organic farmers have been using these ecological and traditional methods to combat pests such as the fall armyworm and they have proven to be efficient. These methods have also been shown to increase soil fertility without the use of harmful chemicals, improve farm biodiversity, encourage the use locally available resources (indigenous seeds) and help put producers rather than corporations in control of the food chain.

                  It is therefore time to advocate for these safe agricultural practices that guarantee us safe food, clean water and healthy soils. Our collective voice is critical in ensuring that our human right to safe food and to a clean and healthy environment, enshrined in our constitution, is upheld.

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