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Miss Wakayo, my nursery school teacher, would have been very proud of a certain French boy who grew up to become the President of France.
This week, the French President Emmanuel Macron interrupted a section of proceedings at the Africa Forward Summit, a meeting attended by a number of African heads of state, government officials, and business leaders, to remind everyone present that it is rude to speak when someone else is talking.
In that moment, Macron won the heart of Miss Wakayo, my teacher of manners back in nursery school.
“Don’t speak with food in your mouth,” Miss Wakayo would say. “Don’t speak when I am speaking!” Sometimes she would add, “Don’t speak at all.”
Just when I thought I had forgotten about her and her sometimes painful lessons in manners, Macron arrived from Paris, took the mic from Miss Wakayo, and added a French twist: If you won’t listen, get the heck out of here!
He certainly silenced them; Macron did! With one fluid move from his seat to the podium, the French President pushed manners to the forefront of the Kenyan nay, African agenda.
Some people called it condescending; some even labelled it imperialist. But for those of us who have been advocating for a Kenya School of Manners, preferably situated between Kenya’s Senate and National Assembly, those of us who were devoted students of Miss Wakayo’s Nursery School of Manners, Macron deserves high praise.
In fact, there should be a petition circulating to gather signatures for Macron to become our president (We could approach the French government and ask them to trade our president for Macron).
However, I’m not sure Macron would manage even one term as President of the Republic of Kenya. If he thinks speaking over others is the only peculiar Kenyan habit, he needs to stay in Nairobi a bit longer, at least long enough to sample our “wantam-tutam” public discourses, and see how our political shouting matches are replete with speeches packed with so much vitriol and division that even the most immodest Frenchman would be shocked.
But then, French manners and Kenyan manners are as different as the height and shape of the Eiffel Tower in Paris is from Nairobi’s Kenyatta International Conference Centre, where the summit took place.
Macron’s sense of manners has been shaped by a long history of French leaders, from Bonaparte, who taught the French many political manners, to Marie Antoinette, whose attempt to teach pastry manners cost her life. Our sense of manners has been shaped by decades of yelling at each other from every available platform, a trend that has defined leadership in Kenya by decibels rather than sense.
Macron ought to have noticed that his host, President William Ruto, did not seem disturbed by the noise. Perhaps the Kenyan President did not inform the President of France about peculiar Kenyan mannerisms before letting him loose on the streets of Nairobi. Ruto did not stress to him that in Kenya, man does not live on speeches alone; that speaking sense does not guarantee an audience; that if you want anyone to truly listen during public discussions, you must pay for it.
Be that as it may, the Macron School of Manners has called on Kenyans to seriously think about establishing our own Kenya School of Manners, where we can learn about the social, economic, and political ramifications of listening without hearing and hearing without listening.
The proposed Kenya School of Manners could have a full Department of Political Manners dedicated to certain politicians who, as many observers have noted, have perfected the noisy mannerisms of mating alley cats. The same school could house other divisions, such as a School for Political Scoundrels, whose numbers are plentiful across the political spectrum.
As we hope that the French might consider funding a Kenya School of Manners, the Teachers Service Commission should consider recognising Macron as an excellent educator for achieving in seconds what Miss Wakayo and today’s nursery school teachers struggle to teach for years: Good manners.
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Miss Wakayo, my nursery school teacher, would have been very proud of a certain French boy who grew up to become the President of France.
This week, the French President Emmanuel Macron interrupted a section of proceedings at the Africa Forward Summit, a meeting attended by a number of African heads of state, government officials, and business leaders, to remind everyone present that it is rude to speak when someone else is talking.
In that moment, Macron won the heart of Miss Wakayo, my teacher of manners back in nursery school.
“Don’t speak with food in your mouth,” Miss Wakayo would say. “Don’t speak when I am speaking!” Sometimes she would add, “Don’t speak at all.”
Just when I thought I had forgotten about her and her sometimes painful lessons in manners, Macron arrived from Paris, took the mic from Miss Wakayo, and added a French twist: If you won’t listen, get the heck out of here!
He certainly silenced them; Macron did! With one fluid move from his seat to the podium, the French President pushed manners to the forefront of the Kenyan nay, African agenda.
Some people called it condescending; some even labelled it imperialist. But for those of us who have been advocating for a Kenya School of Manners, preferably situated between Kenya’s Senate and National Assembly, those of us who were devoted students of Miss Wakayo’s Nursery School of Manners, Macron deserves high praise.
In fact, there should be a petition circulating to gather signatures for Macron to become our president (We could approach the French government and ask them to trade our president for Macron).
However, I’m not sure Macron would manage even one term as President of the Republic of Kenya. If he thinks speaking over others is the only peculiar Kenyan habit, he needs to stay in Nairobi a bit longer, at least long enough to sample our “wantam-tutam” public discourses, and see how our political shouting matches are replete with speeches packed with so much vitriol and division that even the most immodest Frenchman would be shocked.
But then, French manners and Kenyan manners are as different as the height and shape of the Eiffel Tower in Paris is from Nairobi’s Kenyatta International Conference Centre, where the summit took place.
Macron’s sense of manners has been shaped by a long history of French leaders, from Bonaparte, who taught the French many political manners, to Marie Antoinette, whose attempt to teach pastry manners cost her life. Our sense of manners has been shaped by decades of yelling at each other from every available platform, a trend that has defined leadership in Kenya by decibels rather than sense.
Macron ought to have noticed that his host, President William Ruto, did not seem disturbed by the noise. Perhaps the Kenyan President did not inform the President of France about peculiar Kenyan mannerisms before letting him loose on the streets of Nairobi. Ruto did not stress to him that in Kenya, man does not live on speeches alone; that speaking sense does not guarantee an audience; that if you want anyone to truly listen during public discussions, you must pay for it.
Be that as it may, the Macron School of Manners has called on Kenyans to seriously think about establishing our own Kenya School of Manners, where we can learn about the social, economic, and political ramifications of listening without hearing and hearing without listening.
The proposed Kenya School of Manners could have a full Department of Political Manners dedicated to certain politicians who, as many observers have noted, have perfected the noisy mannerisms of mating alley cats. The same school could house other divisions, such as a School for Political Scoundrels, whose numbers are plentiful across the political spectrum.
As we hope that the French might consider funding a Kenya School of Manners, the Teachers Service Commission should consider recognising Macron as an excellent educator for achieving in seconds what Miss Wakayo and today’s nursery school teachers struggle to teach for years: Good manners.
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