My encounters with Moi revealed his two sides

The endless stream of testimonials spoken and written about the late President Daniel arap Moi cast him as an enigma that was at once a merciless tyrant who brutalised democracy activists and locked down this country into a single-party dungeon; a soft-hearted father that gave free milk to thousands of children, and a true patriot who handed over power peacefully.
This is all true because it is quite difficult to rule a country for 24 years after taking leadership as an underdog without displaying an extraordinary range of skills and using force. But the key to understanding him is not to over-read the man, his motives and his style. The late President was a simple man with an extraordinary capacity to mold himself to fit his historical moment and become a President that everybody feared because fear is an emotion that almost always evokes obedience.
Like most strong-men in political power, he was actually quite disarming when he was not scheming and playing the power game. I recall one incident in the early 1990s when, with a group of other editors, we had been summoned to State House for a breakfast session. It was one of those rare meet-and-greet meetings because there was nothing momentous on the agenda.
The breakfast was generous – with plenty of real food as we Africans call it. Roast goat meat, plantain, sweet potatoes, porridge, tea and the usual accompaniments. I was sitting next to him on the row on his left with him at the head of table. After serving and as we started eating and chit-chatting, I without thinking asked him to pass on the salt shaker. It was close to his right hand. I could see the colleague across me and feel the one sitting next to me freeze, clearly wondering whether I had gone mad!
Mzee Moi did not miss a beat. He passed it on with an indulgent smile and we continued with the meal. For weeks, colleagues could not get over my bad manners and rudeness. How could I dare ask the President to pass on the salt? I agreed that it was probably mannerless but it was not an action I processed – it is not very normal to question whether or not one should ask for salt. You just ask. It was the same President two or so years later who, this time very angrily, berated me at a public rally in Machakos because I had deigned to criticize him in a column. He had been very critical that week of lawyers he claimed were undermining his government and he threatened to visit serious and painful consequences on them. He took a very dim of my comments that as President, he should not be complaining about people undermining him. Rather, if he had evidence (and he should have had), he should have them arrested and charged. He angrily questioned who the hell I thought I was and dismissed me as “kitu gani hii” (what is this thing?)
Such was the tense times that comment alone was enough to send excited security operatives to my house – where I wisely stayed away from for two nights.
Those were the two facets of his character - the merciless wielder of a very big stick he was not afraid to use, and a really cool old man who was a gracious host that enjoyed a good laugh. Most stories about his life speak to one or the other facet. But what most defined him was the tough, imperious and merciless politician.
In wielding the big stick that silenced dissent and punished independent thought, he destroyed careers, ruined lives and entrenched corruption, especially around land transactions. He was a master of the divide-and-rule tactic. Ruthless when he suspected lack of total loyalty. Mourn him how you wish, he rests in peace.

Tom Mshindi is the former editor-in-chief of the Nation Group and is now consulting., @tmshindi