Environment Cabinet Secretary Aden Duale has strongly criticized Citizen TV for its portrayal of Garissa, Wajir, and Mandera counties as the “Somali region” during a news segment.
When discussing the issue on Thursday, Duale did not mask his disapproval of the expression used by the media company, which falls under the Royal Media Services umbrella. The media report covered a High Court decision that invalidated the 2019 census results from Kenya National Bureau of Statistics (KNBS) for these counties, attributing the action to detected significant irregularities.
The terminology struck Duale as not just absurd but laden with irresponsibility, discrimination, and ethnic profiling. Such a description, he argued, skews the very essence of journalistic ethics. “Somali region?” he questioned, with palpable incredulity in his voice. “Garissa, Wajir, and Mandera counties reside unequivocally within the sovereign confines of the Republic of Kenya,” Duale asserted, underlining the folly in such labels.
It seems Duale’s statements radiated from a place of deep concern—a place where the names of regions are more than mere titles, but rather symbols of Kenyan sovereignty and unity. Isn’t it crucial, he seemed to ask, to acknowledge every part of Kenya without reducing it to an extrinsic identifier?
Intriguingly, Duale didn’t stop there. He pressed for Citizen TV to issue an apology, claiming that the station was in cahoots—metaphorically speaking—with those who had meddled with the 2019 census data. “Royal Media Service must rectify and apologize,” he insisted. “In essence, you are playing the same tune as those who contrived to distort the census results of that area in 2019. Kenya remains, and should always be, one seamless, unified entity.”
Why is this mislabeling a big deal? The words we choose often reveal underlying biases or misconceptions. By dubbing these counties as the “Somali region,” Citizen TV perhaps unintentionally fueled a stereotype or division that could sow seeds of discord. The nuances of identity and belonging carry an emotional weight that transcends mere jurisdictional boundaries, evoking elder tales of unity—or division—in countless communities. As an old adage wisely echoes: labels are for jars, not people.
As someone keenly aware of the historical and social fabric of Kenya, Duale sought to highlight another line of thought. Consider this: if distortion penetrates as far as a population count, skewed by malice or incompetence, what does it suggest about fairness, representation, or resource allocation in public policy? The implications are far-reaching, cascading across the lives of myriad individuals who call these counties home.
Now, let us ponder—what role does the media play in crafting our understanding of place and identity? Journalism’s integrity hinges on adherence to truth and impartiality, steering far from the temptations of sensationalism or narratives that echo division. A momentary label could insidiously manifest into something larger, something with historical consequences, if not corrected.
In summation, Duale’s rebuke was not merely about navigating the semantics of labels. Instead, it emerged as a clarion call for a deeper understanding and respect for national identity—an identity that should embrace, rather than partition, its richly diverse tapestry. And as Duale reinforces, the boundary lines on a map do more than separate spaces; they define a collective destiny, one Kenya is tasked to nurture for every Kenyan.
Edited By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring
