The Challenge for Africa (18 page)

Through an act of parliament, the government established the Constituency Development Fund, or CDF. The CDF would provide direct funding for local development initiatives, particularly targeting those that would combat poverty, to be decided on by the citizens themselves. The total amount dispensed was 2.5 percent of the tax revenues the government collected. The act stated that each of the 210 parliamentary constituencies would receive an equal portion of 75 percent of the funds, while the remaining 25 percent was allocated according to the poverty levels in each constituency, with those with higher poverty levels receiving more. The act also mandated that up to 10 percent of the CDF be allotted to bursaries—grants—for education. It was, indeed, an effort toward the equitable distribution of resources in all communities.

For years, Kenyans had complained about their taxes being misused by the ruling elite so that few of those funds, in the
form of services, trickled down to the people—especially the rural poor; here, the government, for the first time, was attempting to ensure that some of the revenues it collected went directly to those who needed them most. The top was reaching out to the bottom. Finally, the approach that civil society had been advocating had been accepted by the government. An additional benefit of the act was that it encouraged Kenyans to pay their taxes, in the belief that the money would be used more transparently and accountably than in the past. The public knew that the more revenue the government received, the more funds would flow to the CDF. These revenues did indeed rise under the new government because more citizens were willing to pay their taxes. In 2004, the CDF was allotted 1.26 billion Kenyan shillings (nearly $20 million). By 2008, this had grown to 10.1 billion shillings (almost $155 million).
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In my judgment, the CDF presented a perfect opportunity to put into action a long-held belief of mine that for Africa to develop, it would be necessary to reach local people at the most elementary representative level and encourage them to both make decisions about projects and oversee their implementation for their community's benefit. Because Kenya, along with many other African countries, has a highly centralized governmental system—a legacy of colonialism—that over the years has tended to marginalize rural populations, it was necessary to devolve decision making to counter the dependency culture that had been created. The CDF opened up the possibility of converting talk into action by letting the people, for the first time, determine their development priorities themselves.

The CDF Act passed through parliament without a hitch, because it was to replace the practice
of harambees
, which had become a scourge in parliamentary constituencies.
Harambee
is the Kiswahili word for “pulling together.” President Jomo Kenyatta introduced the term in Kenya in 1963 to instill a community spirit and sense of self-reliance and hard work in
promoting small-scale local development. It had since come to mean something like a fund-raiser, or a donation, having been hijacked by politicians, who recognized it as an important forum for influencing potential voters. Members of parliament were constantly being asked to participate in
harambees
, both formal and informal—to build a new church hall, help parents pay for their children's school fees, assist in getting someone buried or married, or make possible a trip to the doctor or surgery. Although MPs in Kenya are now relatively well paid, much of one's salary, and more, could be consumed in various
harambees
.

By 2002,
harambees
had become almost a form of extortion: a means for constituents, church organizations, or women's groups to ask for, and receive, a donation from their MP. They had also become a way for the MPs, particularly at election time, to, in effect, buy votes to ensure their reelection. This problem is not confined to Kenya; it is not uncommon for politicians to give enticements—for instance, food, clothing, or cash—to citizens, especially those who are poor, to assure their support at the polls. Citizens are usually not interested in knowing whether the money and gifts came from the MP's pocket or were siphoned from the national treasury.

The CDF offered an opportunity to end some of this form of graft, and to use national funds not simply to dole out sacks of grain that might feed a family for a week, but to build health centers or ensure that children finished secondary school, the benefits of which would accrue to the whole community and, in theory, would lead to longer-term positive changes. The CDF also could be an important model on which to base antipoverty, pro-development efforts in other African countries, and even other regions. Of course, if corruption set in, the CDF would be judged a failed experiment.

My constituency, Tetu, is in the Highlands of Central Kenya, near the provincial capital of Nyeri. The landscape is
marked by hills and the mountain range of the Aberdares to the west and, in the distance, Mount Kenya to the north. The area has relatively high annual rainfall, and many rivers and streams. The economy is primarily agricultural, dominated by livestock farming and cash crops of coffee, tea, and maize. All agriculture in Tetu is small-scale; there are no large-scale farms except on the forested slopes of the Aberdares; very few industries operate here, apart from one tea factory. Per capita GDP is $400 a year, or $ 1.11 a day.

Through the CDF, Tetu was given 134 million shillings (about $2 million) over the five years I was an MP—the amount at the end being six times that at the beginning. Each MP was charged with the responsibility of making sure that the funds allocated to the CDF were actually used to benefit the people; the people themselves, the press, and a national-level CDF committee impaneled by the government would act as watchdogs. The government stipulated that each constituency create a committee of fifteen individuals to determine which projects would be funded. They would be paid a small stipend for their work.

I found this an unsatisfactory way to approach the allocation of CDF funds; I felt the CDF effort should be as participatory as possible. I'm someone who likes to experiment with ideas: if they work, I pursue them; if they don't, I drop them. I couldn't see how fifteen committee members would be sufficiently representative or able to identify the needs of the whole constituency, which numbered about ninety thousand people. So I went to the sub-locations—the smallest administrative units in Kenya, governing (in my constituency's case) around 2,500 people—and encouraged each of them to form a committee of fifteen people.

What I was trying to do was to ensure that the members of the committee were elected by the people. In establishing itself, each sub-locational committee had to follow criteria for
representation of women and youth. There are thirty-seven sub-locations in Tetu, which meant that 555 people were involved directly in the CDF's operation. The committees would meet and decide on the priorities of their sub-location: Should they repair their social hall or a school classroom? Did they want to have pipes laid or extended, or have water flowing to a particular spot? Did they wish to build or complete a health center? Or hire a teacher for a school? This bottom-up approach helped people take ownership and feel like the projects were theirs.

The chair and vice-chair of each sub-locational committee met and formed locational committees, also with fifteen members, to discuss what they'd prioritized in their sub-locations: What was most strategic? What would serve people the best? What would most effectively alleviate poverty? Then each locational committee would choose two representatives to serve on the constituency-level committee. This committee of fifteen at the constituency level received five proposals from every location and then agreed on which projects to fund. Most of our decisions were unanimous. Only very rarely did we have to take a vote.

At each committee level, the government was also represented through local officials. However, it was made clear to them that while they were welcome to participate in the committee's deliberations, they had no role in choosing the members of any of the committees, or in determining the committee's priorities for the use of CDF funds. While the government representatives could vote, it was the people themselves who identified the projects, prioritized them, and implemented them. (In the classical governance structure, the government's representatives would have imposed their views on the people and, for the most part, people would have remained passive and endorsed what the government's representatives decreed.)

Every project also had an elected project committee: again, a
means of encouraging local participation. I wanted people not only to choose projects, but also to see them through to completion. Whether it was a new classroom, the renovation of a health dispensary, or the installation of water pipes, it was the local project committee members who paid out the funds and ensured that the work progressed. As much as possible, the actual work was done by members of the community. Why look for high-level artisans and builders from Nairobi when they existed in the villages of the constituency, especially when many of them didn't have jobs or were underemployed? By having these individuals participate in the CDF projects, employment opportunities were created, money stayed in the community, and even more local people got involved.

This administrative structure kept corruption to a minimum and maximized efficiency, since the supervisors and workers all lived in the community and would be harshly judged by their peers if the project was mismanaged. Such grassroots responsibility has been lacking in most governance structures in Kenya and throughout Africa. Just about everything has been left to “officialdom,” so when officialdom disappears, the project collapses. The CDF model developed in Tetu made this far less likely.

The committees were also charged with determining how to use the money allotted to educational grants. Since the Kenyan government was now providing free primary education, the decision was made to allocate money for students in secondary schools and encourage them to stay in school until they reached eighteen and graduated. As in the community projects, each sub-locational committee set to work and identified ten students in high schools—370 in all, both boys and girls—who would benefit from a grant.

Here, too, the community was empowered to make its own choices. The decision as to which child would get the grants no longer rested with an individual at the district or provincial
level who might have thought that the son of the local chief or the daughter of the headmaster at his local school should receive the funds. Instead, the committee members at the sub-locational level, who knew the children well and lived in the community, made these decisions. Significantly, it was often children from the poorest families, or orphans, or children with HIV/AIDS, who were prioritized.

Unfortunately, the large number of children on the list meant that the communities didn't have enough money to fund grants in full for every student. However, the committees felt strongly that each sub-location should have the maximum representation. They therefore decided to provide a minimum of 40 percent of the grant for each child. They asked the principals of each school in the constituency, “If we give you 40 percent of the costs of these children's education, will you keep these children in school until the parents are able to find the remaining 60 percent?” Thankfully, the principals agreed to this plan—and in so doing became part of the decision making process. This allowed the communities not only to ensure that the children could stay in school, but to have all of the students who needed the grants receive them.

In devolving power in this manner, we were trying to create a bottom-up model of development. The process was transparent and accountable; it promoted equity and fairness; it also showed that “democratic space” could be opened up at the grassroots level in such a way that the phrase actually meant something. This way of working, I believe, strengthens the pillars of the three-legged stool, and has the potential to empower poor people and give them a sense of participating in government and decision making, and of being a part of the whole—rather than acting as passive observers of what happens far away in the capital city. I was gratified to discover that the Parliamentary Monitoring Committee, a bipartisan group that examined the performance of MPs in their constituencies, particularly
regarding the management of projects such as the CDF, determined that some aspects of the method we had developed should be emulated by others.

My strategy was not without its problems. The whole process of creating the sub-locational and locational committees, and the deliberations about the projects, took a considerable amount of time, which slowed initial implementation—so much so that some people in Tetu complained that the constituency took too long to distribute CDF funds. I told myself that while it might take longer to establish the multilayered committee structure, once it was in place it would work well and my constituents would appreciate the expanded opportunities to exercise leadership. It did.

Another challenge was that the budget for the CDF allowed a comfortable travel and expense allowance only for committee members at the constituency level; members at the other levels wondered why they couldn't be similarly compensated. It was a challenge for me to explain the situation, and many were still unhappy about the disparity. Although I believe strongly in the value of service and of individuals not always having to be paid to work for the common good, most people in Tetu are poor. Leaving their fields, putting aside work on their small business, or finding someone to look after their children in order to attend a committee meeting was a sacrifice. Several expressed their dissatisfaction, and I heard the mutterings of others.

In my view, the people of Tetu did get the best benefit for the money the government provided through the CDF. By seeking a small allowance for travel and expenses, those committee members were, in a way, putting their own immediate interest ahead of the greater good of the community and the benefits all those in Tetu could receive, by making sure that the funds provided by the government were not being wasted. Moreover, if I
hadn't set up additional committees at the locational and sub-locational levels, those people would have had very little say over how the CDF funds were allocated. The decisions would have been left to the fifteen members of the constituency committee alone. It is almost as if some of my constituents wanted to be compensated to help themselves, as if they were owed assistance.