Why Narok Stadium should be renamed Daniel Rudisha

The main dias at the new Narok County Stadium. PHOTO | ELIAS MAKORI |

What you need to know:

  • It is easier to push to have the recently refurbished sport facility bear the name of the great athlete than build a new one and name it after him though the rules that guide giving names to streets and public places in Kenya are so opaque, we can only keep our fingers

As they buried Daniel Rudisha this week, some of our greatest athletes called for the construction of a stadium and athletics academy in his honour.

The nobility of immortalising the name of one of our Olympic legends cannot be gainsaid. But why use such a long, circuitous route with doubtful returns to achieve this purpose?

Narok already has a nice, recently rebuilt 5,000-seat stadium. Isn’t it much easier to push for its renaming to Daniel Rudisha Stadium? And since the county government seems to have its heart in the right place, why not open discussions with them about such an academy straightaway?

The main dias at the new Narok County Stadium. PHOTO | ELIAS MAKORI |

Rudisha’s place in our history is assured. When we were still trying to find our feet as a new nation in the mid-1960s, his were strong. He was master of the short distance, a great relay runner who reproduced himself with an even more illustrious son, the current Olympic 800 metres champion, David Rudisha.

If you watch him recounting his halcyon days in Jackie Lebo’s documentary, “Gun to Tape”, you will simply love the man. First, you will be taken in by his hearty laughter, which is irresistibly infectious, and then by his easy manners. He must have made hard work look fun in his youth.

'FINISHED CAREERS WITH HONOUR'

He was a national athlete at a time of innocence, hope and a vision of all possibilities. His generation, headlined by names such as Kipchoge Keino, Joe Kadenge and Joginder Singh, were authentic national heroes who inspired many youngsters.

Some members of this generation, Rudisha among them, finished their race with honour; others in ignominy.

But collectively, in incremental steps, election after election, government after government, the promise they represented turned bleak. They have now been replaced in our discourses and editorial spaces by the modern day tribal warlord, the looter of the national treasury and the false prophet.

To honour Daniel Rudisha for the services he and his family have rendered this country should be less a public plea and more practical civic engagement.

This is one such time that we should do things in the proper way and make good use of the legislative and administrative tools that we already have in place.

I think by now, without further ado, a member of the Narok County Assembly, acting on a petition by any interested person or on his own motion, should be preparing a dossier on the life of Daniel Rudisha.

Daniel Matasi Rudisha in a past interview. Daniel passed away on March 6, 2019 aged 73 years. PHOTO | FILE

With that dossier, he should then organise several public forums to get the peoples’ views on his proposal to change the name of Narok Stadium to Daniel Rudisha Stadium. That done, he should then table that motion for debate in the Narok County Assembly.

'MAKE A CASE'

He must be prepared to make the most compelling case as to why Daniel Rudisha and not anybody else deserves the honour of having that public facility named after him.

I don’t imagine this would be a Herculean task. Maybe it would even get overwhelming approval. But he must make the most thorough presentation preceded by good lobbying because politics is politics.

The documentation for all this activity should be well preserved in county records so that anybody asking how this was arrived at in future can see for themselves. It is a fairly straightforward process that should not take much time, money or effort. And the MCA who decides to take it on may just find him or herself being copied by other public-spirited representatives in the country.

National and regional governments in the world routinely change the names of their public facilities owing to a number of compelling reasons. Among these is a strong degree of demand from the local community and emerging investment attractiveness.

By itself, the name Narok is bland and won’t ring any bell in the world. But bring up the name Rudisha and you have got attention. The county would do well to parlay the name recognition of its native sons to market its tourism potential.

The athletes who gave Rudisha a heroes’ burial last Monday should be able to get their wish in a far less gruelling way than they proposed. County governments are currently starved of development funds and asking for a new stadium is akin to crying for the moon. But most important is the fact they already have what they are asking for. They only have to build on it.

Since independence the criteria for naming public facilities after individuals, like that of conferring national honours on them, has been shrouded in mystery.

It has been opaque, skewed, haphazard and annoying. The names of so many housing estates, schools, universities, markets, hospitals, roads, airports and stadiums give you the feeling of walking in the personal real estate of three presidents two of whom share a family name. In other cases, it is virtually impossible to find out who the people honoured were; it may very well be the case that they were decision maker’s relatives or friends.

Daniel Matasi Rudisha (centre) and his wives Naomi (right: mother of David Rudisha) and Roseline at their home in Kilgoris, Narok county on February 12, 2011. PHOTO | FILE |

In 56 years, the country has never come up with a criteria that a broad majority of its people agree justifies the glorification of one citizen over another. This has led to some spectacular howlers but which, unfortunately, haven’t moved the needle of official obduracy even a bit.

Yet some jurisdictions are completely transparent on the criteria they use to name their public spaces in honour of some of their citizens. Read this excerpt from the City of Johannesburg, South Africa: “The names of streets and public places fill a dual function: a cultural role in terms of the meanings and associations they convey; and a practical role in terms of their locational function. Names give a ‘sense of place’, and are essential navigational tools and locational guides for moving through the city."

“The City of Johannesburg must therefore have a clear policy with guidelines, rules and procedures for the naming of streets and public places through a process which is clear, inclusive and consultative. Place names in Johannesburg should reflect the rich histories, diverse heritage, cultural identities and natural resources of the area."

"These names touch people’s lives on many levels, building community/neighbourhood identity, and contributing to the creation of places that residents and users can relate to and take pride in. Place names can help build social cohesion, and they influence our experiences and perceptions of the city.”

It is a very detailed documented on which one can fall back for any query about the name of a public place in the city. Because we are here dealing with public spaces, as in the case of Narok, the driving force for any outcome should be public acceptance and ownership.

“The process of naming and/or renaming must be undertaken in a consultative manner and this must be clearly demonstrated before a final decision can be taken by the Council,” says the Johannesburg policy guidelines.

The acrimony, irreverence and boundless imagination that comes with public participation makes for slow and tedious processes. But the outcome endures. In most of Africa, many presidents named the huge stadiums they built after themselves.

Some of these presidents were later kicked out of office by fed up citizens. Even in cases where great athletes have been honoured, like in that of Abebe Bikila of Ethiopia, it was still a matter of executive fiat by Emperor Haile Sellasie but which doubtless reflected the wishes of his compatriots.

Public participation sometimes throws up some unexpected balls in the air. Where in the world, for example, would you place Estádio Jornalista Mário Rodrigues Filho?

You probably may be hearing of it for the first time. But you know it, of course. Jornalist Mario Rodrigues Filho Stadium is the official name of the Maracana Stadium in Rio de Janeiro.

It is also one of the world’s most iconic. The journalist was a fervent campaigner for its construction against heavy opposition and he prevailed.

It was finished in 1965 almost 17 years after work began and with a then sitting capacity of 200,000 people, was the world’s largest.

When Filho died the following year, the Rio State Assembly renamed it after him. And that in Brazil, of all places, where the land teems with many of the greatest footballers to have walked this earth. Mario Filho Stadium is, however, universally known by the name of the Maracana neighbourhood it was built in.

Jurisdictions, of course, respond to the demands of their own specific conditions and circumstances. They cannot blindly copy and paste what others do.

However, there are broad similarities across the world.

For example, the great majority of national, regional or metropolitan authorities avoid naming public spaces after living people. This is because a hero today can be a villain tomorrow and the unpleasant work of recalling his honours is best avoided.

I am hoping that Kenyans will inculcate in themselves the culture envisaged in the constitution. The era of executive fiat should be over.

If, for example, FKF decide to do away with that stale name Harambee Stars, let them facilitate public participation and they will get a good replacement.

And if Nairobi City County decides it has enough heroes to merit renaming of the Nairobi City Stadium, let it consult widely as well.

The last thing you want to hear is another roadside declaration that trashes all the work and money that went into making the new constitution which in large potions remains just beautiful on paper.

You don’t want to be collected from the floor after listening to a recording where somebody is saying: “Hiyo order haitoki kwangu. Hiyo inatoka kwa mdosi huko juu … mimi navunja sheria because wewe ni colleague wangu …” (That order is not coming from me. It is coming from above. I am breaking the law because you are my colleague …)

Enough of orders from above. Enough of breaking the law.