Come "Yea" or "Nay"

It takes a lot for a woman like me to admit to being a snivelling coward, so I need you to promise you'll give me credit for that before I continue.

.....Okay, I'm assuming you've given me that credit, so it's safe for me to admit that I've spent the entire day in my apartment in Suburban Nairobi, while the entire country of Kenya is experiencing one of the most profound moments in its history. Instead of wandering the streets and soaking up the atmosphere on this day when millions of Kenyans are voting for a new Constitution, I'm at home performing my expat elections monitoring in front of the TV.

You see, it all started with a chunk of concrete that came hurtling through the sky and almost shattered my ankle back in January. I alluded to it in a few posts back then, but never fully disclosed the extent of my injury. It happened when my curiosity got the best of me, and I went outside the newsroom at Nation Centre to witness a rock throwing quasi-riot between Muslim protesters and Christian passersby. Decades of journalism training emboldened me, and I wanted to experience it first-hand, instead of observing it from 4 floors up.

When the missile connected with my ankle, I felt like Boo Boo the Fool, clutching the BlackBerry I'd been using to try and capture some of the images. The pain was searing, but even then it hurt less than my embarrassment at being the lone "tourist" snapping pictures of the natives. I had no business being out there and no use for any pictures of the event, and to top it all off, I wound up injured. I'll never forget how two men rushed to my aid and half carried me back behind one of the pillars in front of Nation Centre. And while one guy rubbed my ankle, the other kept saying, "Pole, pole" (Kiswahili for "Sorry, Sorry.')

That's one thing I'll never get used to over here. People always apologize profusely for things they aren't responsible for! If you trip and drop your handbag, five people will yell "Pole, pole." Break a fingernail and the woman next to you will go, "Oh, sorry, sorry." One day I wore a bandage over a small cut, and while I was waiting in line at the currency exchange, the guard asked me if I'd hurt myself. When I told him what happened, he said, "Oh, pole sana, madame." (Very sorry.) I literally had to stop myself from reprimanding him about apologizing for my clumsiness!

Anyway, that was just an aside to keep from addressing the main issue of this posting, which is that instead of soaking up the historic flavor of today's vote, I'm soaking up coffee and the electronic glow of my television set. In one sense, I suppose I'm entitled, because of Kenya's most recent history of post-election turmoil. Depending on which count you believe, at least 1,300 people died during bloody protests over the outcome of the December 2007 election. There are actually people voting today who still live in tents because they were driven from their homes during that horrific bout of violence.

Granted, there weren't any problems in the leafy suburb I live in back then. And my gut tells me that this time, there won't be any violence anywhere. This time, just like during the American 2008 Presidential election, I suspect there has been a tremendous national consciousness-raising in Kenya. I caught a whiff of the stink of desperation in some of the last ditch posturing and protests from the folks who are against the new Constitution, and it was actually kind of pathetic to behold. The days when you could buy votes with a couple of dollars and some bald-faced lies are waning fast, even amidst the extreme desperation and poverty in a country like Kenya.

You see, here's how I figure it. Today, Kenyans are being asked to vote for a new Constitution, one that seeks to create a more equitable society. I don't know all the nuances of Kenyan political history, and I'm not even going to pretend to explain precisely what the new document contains, or what's at stake. I can tell you that the main reasons some people are against it is because it contains language about abortion, and a provision for Muslim courts. In a predominantly Christian nation, those two items were sure to be flashpoints, and they've delivered enough drama and outrage to keep things interesting these past few months.

But from where I stand, you can strip away all the drama and get down to the bottom line, which is that Kenyans started lining up at 3 AM this morning because they wanted to have a say in the outcome. They're tired of a handful of guys deciding their futures, of carving up the spoils for themselves and disregarding their hopes and dreams. I believe the Kenyan mwananchi (Kiswahili for "public") has sensed that for the first time, they can use their vote to actually have a say in their country's development.

Now, I'm not saying that I believe most Kenyans think a new Constitution will solve all their problems. The vast majority of the country's 12 million registered voters will likely be dead and buried before any of the potential reforms heralded in this new Constitution are realized. And truth be told, given the Byzantine machinations of the forces aligned against it, there's still a healthy chance the new Constitution won't pass.

But here's why I feel a bit foolish hunkering down in my apartment today. You see, my gut tells me there won't be any problems this time. My gut tells me that Kenya has matured. My gut tells me that Kenyans know the entire world is watching them, and they know that CNN and Al Jazeera are poised to capture the "money shot" of brother against brother, wielding machetes and guns and brandishing torches. They know that's not who they really are. And they're tired of the rest of the world believing that all you need to do is scratch the surface to reveal something monstrous.

So I believe that when the results are released on Friday, everything's gonna be all right. I believe there will be joy no matter which way the vote goes, and I believe the losing side will feel the sting of defeat, but they'll hold their heads high and get on with it, without lashing out. And I will probably wish I had ventured out to a few polling places today, taken a few pictures, talked to a few people and soaked up the same kind of electric energy Americans felt in November 2008. And like I felt at being fortunate enough to be back in DC to cast my absentee ballot for President Obama.

I don't know, maybe if I hadn't gotten clocked by that rock back in January, I'd be in a more adventurous mood. Maybe it's true that the older and more settled in your ways you get, the less willing you are to take risks. Whatever the case may be, I am feeling optimistic and hopeful for Kenya. I do feel privileged to be here while all this is going on. I do believe there will be peace in Kenya this time. But I guess I wanna hedge my bets and make sure I'm safe, just in case.