Wednesday 30 July 2014

Facebook, Twitter find expanding use in cities and beyond



Pius Maundu
@piusmaundu

Dominic Mutua Maweu addresses MCSF members. He went into Facebook to run away from loneliness. Photo: Pius Maundu

Facebook, Twitter find expanding use in cities and beyond 
Saturday afternoon. A trail of four SUVs, three Probox, and 5 NZEs conspicuously snakes into the greenery that is the laid back Acacia Resort in Wote, Makueni County. Piaggio Ape three-wheelers, on this day, register good business dropping passengers, seemingly strange to one another, to the country side inn. 

Yet dozens throng the dusty section of the 100-metre stretch off Wote-Machakos Road, past Hotel le Panda, into the sprawling compound. This afternoon, Acacia is hosting Makueni County Sharing Forum (MCSF) members.

Inside the parking lot is littered with sassy women, the young flaunting clutch bags, the miniature version of the sizeable carry-alls, popular with the young at heart. Clad in jeans, t-shirts and sandals debonair men complement the women so that, at 2 pm, the in-crowd of MCSF, a Facebook group premised on sharing information on county and national development, is seated.

If their numbers fail to equalize the two groups, the internet enabled devices they are carrying with them don’t. Incidentally, everyone is religiously tucked to their smart phone or laptop.  Peter Mbilo has with him a Samsung Galaxy Tab.

In one corner, Chris Nzioki chats amiably with Nancy Kyalo, Peter Mutua stretches for his second bottle of Dasani, effectively interrupting a tete a tete between Lawrence Kamwenzwa and Zipporah Wavinya, and from far, Domitila Katila confides with Mbeneka Musyoka. Occasionally, Stephen Malai high-fives Samuel Mativo. 

Their mission is two-fold: to meet Dominic Maweu, the founder of MCSF, and to get acquainted to one another. 

As Stephen Mumo Wambua sets the event rolling, wheelchair-bound Maweu expresses his amazement on how MCSF has grown in leaps and bounds bringing good tidings in every new spin off. “I started this group for selfish reasons. I’ve always been passionate about meeting people, listening to people. 

But when I became bed ridden, I could not take myself to the people: I needed something to bring the people to me.” At this point, it is not hard to imagine that Maweu cut his teeth in photography and penning articles for Baobab, a Muthingiini Secondary School magazine, in his hey days.
Today, MCSF has burst its seams in activity.

Every day, it hosts over 20 member generated posts, triggering over 1200 reactions. The group boasts of over 22000 active members predominantly drawn from Makueni County, Machakos County, Kitui County, Kajiado County, Nairobi County. But it’s the vibrancy in the conversations hosted on this group that makes it stand out. Its essence is succinctly stated on its profile: 

“We can chat, discuss, give advices, and joke together as friends.”

Maweu’s is an interesting case. It deviates from studies, like a recent one by University of Michigan psychologist Ethan Kross, that joining Facebook makes one lonely and sad. Instead, Maweu confirms what Matthew Lieberman says in his book, “Social: Why our brains are wired to connect.” 

Lieberman writes that social networks are excellent platforms for interaction. They increase social interaction and trust among participants. Importantly, these networks create new platforms of sharing content, and experiences. This awareness that a social media user will end up sharing with others is rewarding. 

And as Sebastián Valenzuela and his colleagues discovered in a study on popular media culture, this makes users happy. 

But there is more in Maweu’s story: the expanding use of social networks in the society.
Facebook, Twitter, and social media are changing the way people interact. Studies rebuking earlier ones that social media is less capable of facilitating meaningful relationships are gaining 
preeminence. 

Hence the springing up of communities such as MCSF in recent times.  That notwithstanding, conversations on the impact on development triggers schisms. 

At one side, there are those who contend that causes propagated on Facebook, popularized as Hashtagactivism, translate to nothing on the ground.  Yet those borrowing from recent events in Syria exude confidence that causes on social media are revolutionary. 

In 2011, youths in Syria and the Middle East at large relied heavily on social media. Twitter and Facebook were handy in shaping how the Middle East crisis was portrayed and this influenced its ultimate perception.  

By and large, social media platforms have continued to handle a plethora of topics ranging from art, politics, business, socialization, and even education. This list has been shifting north. 

Mainstreaming of social media by governments, politicians and corporations as formidable communication platforms is responsible for this great milestone. It is not uncommon for journalists to fish for stories from blogs, Tweets, Facebook posts. 

This development in journalism was captured sunctictly by Peter Limbourg, Director General of Deutsche Welle during the 2014 Deutsche Welle Global Media Forum.

“Journalists are no longer the gatekeepers. Everyone is about of the news and storytelling business these days. So they are no-longer looking out for the news, they are participating in telling the news. This is a hard concept for traditional media to not only grapple with but to also understand and adapt to.”

“Quotable tweets from key personalities and the mainstream media houses provide enough hay to keep MCSF kicking,” owns Maweu, a onetime radio producer with Radio Mang’elete, a community radio operating in Mtito-a-Ndei. 

Besides journalism, public relations thrives on social media. Not so long ago, a survey by the Kenya Bankers Association showed how social media is the preferred means of customer care in banking. It read: 

“Nine out of 10 respondents would rather communicate with their bank through social media sites such as Facebook, Twitter and WhatsApp.”

Twitter has continued to find expanding usage as a communication tool of choice in politics and diplomatic networking. 

When Narendra Modi, India’s Prime Minister assumed office in May 2014, his position on social media was clear.  “I am a firm believer in the power of technology and social media to communicate with people across the world.”
 
President Barack Obama commands 43.7 followers on Twitter, topping the world-leader list, according to Twiplomacy.  Second in that list is Pope Francis whose 14 million followers are spread on his nine different language accounts.  Indonesia’s President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono comes a distant third with an upwards of five million followers, a heartbeat from Narendra Modi.

Twiplomacy monitors the use of Twitter by politicians and what this means on policy and development. 

President Uhuru Kenyatta is the greatest Twitter user in Africa, with 457,307 followers as at June 2014. 

But it is not the level of followership that matters. But the level of interactivity. In this light, the most influential world leader is Pope Francis, whose English and Spanish accounts attract over 16000 retweets, according to a study by Twiplomacy. 

Twitter enables interactions. Successful users find Twitter an important tool for conversing with their followers. Amina Mbabazi, Ugandan Prime Minister, is the most conversational world leader.  95% of his tweets are to other Twitter users.

Social media influences public policy. World leaders have thrown their weights on matters using their social media accounts. Notably, BringBackourGirls has seen Michelle Obama express her sentiments on the need for the Boko Haram to release the 200-plus Nigeria girls it abducted. 

Neutering an attempted globetrotting by Members of the County Assembly, and influencing a facelift Yikisemei, a hitherto neglected school in Kibwezi West, are some of the achievements MSF can write home about.   

Although controversy surrounds the appropriate metric for the efficacy of campaigns on social media, there is a general concurrence from pundits that social media presence for individuals, corporations and causes is rewarding.   

Except for the exceptional case of Chief Francis Kariuki of Lanet, Nakuru County, whose broadcasts touch on his locality, Twitter usage in Kenya is largely perceived as elitist, and given a wide berth.
Perhaps the ease of interfacing on Facebook provides an easier alternative. 

In 2013, theguardian.com reported that Facebook boasted of an upwards of 1.23 billion users worldwide, with over half of the users having over 200 friends. Individual accounts burgeon to vibrant communities like MCSF. 

What keeps certain online communities growing while others stagnating?

Diversity of topics handled in one, and the success in the balancing act on level of freedom of expression and the perceived decorum in the conversations hosted therein are essential ingredients in online communities. 

Whereas scores could mill around online communities premised on banality, other turfs could register minimal followership. This explains the variance in followership in the sarcasm-laced conversations of Edwin Buhere, as compared to accounts whose fodder is politics.  

To remain relevant, social media account holders have to find ways of keeping the influences coming for more. 

Kis Mbondo, one of the administrators at MCSF, owns that keeping the group alive is a tall order.  “One of the greatest challenges is to ensure that members interact in a respectable manner.”

For Mbondo to make this happen, he identifies and weeds out members using vulgar language and trading vitriol, as well as those determined to broadcast indecent photos. Administration entails keeping vigil on members hell-bent on hosting advertisements on the page, and blocking them, for they risk having Facebook Inc. disable the account.  This funnels to the freedom of expression on social media. 

 At the engine of social networking sites is Web 2.0, a combination of web tools enabling unidirectional user interaction. Touted as being highly dynamic, these tools have revolutionized the online experience. 

Popularity of Web 2.0 rides on its ability to make both parties to a communication situation creators and consumers of content. Elimination of gate keeping on social media is highly celebrated and dreaded in equal measures. 

While elimination of editors in information processing allows a variety of perspective to a phenomenon, critics point at its being an enabling environment for the perpetration of falsehoods, propaganda, hate speech, alarming and unethical photos, text and video. 

Nevertheless, this technology is acclaimed for its capacity to promote democracy in the world. And Maweu, 45, is wary of this essence of social media.

“In MCSF, we occasionally differ on one or two issues,” Maweu says, scanning the now murmuring Acacia Resort audience, “but that does not mean we cannot find common ground on the other matters. Democracy is founded on accommodating diversity.” 

In addition, MCSF serves as a one-stop shop for information on public health by the medical fraternity in the group.  But all this does not come without challenges. 

Growing popularity of social media has led institutions into a kneejerk. 

Attempts to crack the whip on irresponsible use of social media has seen blogger Robber Alai, and political activists Moses Kuria and DiKembe Disembe walk through the criminal justice system for utterances they made on Twitter and Facebook.  

While it is the mandate of the individual running a personal account to check on libel and hate speech, for instance, on online communities, administrators have a role to play. This eats into the perceived freedom of expression that should characterize online interactions on groups of MCSF ilk
.
Allowing libelous conversations is not only unethical but it can cost the community followership.  A conversations is libelous if dames the reputation of another person at the eyes of right thinking members of the society, by exposing them to hatred, malice and contempt. 

“Can you imagine a society where everyone is allowed to hang placards insulting the local leader on the tallest tree?” quips Mbondo, wittily justifying the inevitability of using an upper hand in administering MCSF. 

Before the sun dips, MCSF members embark on taking selfies. One can tell from the full smiles and chatter outside the conference hall that these are no longer strangers. Obviously these moments of happiness will end up in posts on Makueni County Social Forum.


Daily Nation version


Monday 28 July 2014

Pundits should come out in swarms and guide on contagious issues



Pius Maundu
@piusmaundu

Pundits should come out in swarms and guide on contagious issues

For quite sometime now, I have noted that professionals are running away from their responsibilities. Its not common to see professionals contributing to the regular columns on newspapers. 

Not even when the public is at a loss on what direction to take, say on GMOs. This should not be the case. 

An article by Korir Sing’oe (Daily Nation, July 25) has reinvigorated my conviction on the need for professionals to rise up to the occasion.   

Titled “School principals have no legal right to withhold certificates from graduates,” the article wades into an ongoing seesaw pitting politicians, at one hand, and teachers, on the others. 

Sing’oe, a legal adviser of the Deputy President, supplies the social and legal implications of principals withholding KCPE and KCSE certificates.  Notably, he writes:

“Essentially then, high schools that withhold certificates are transforming the legal character of these certificates from documentary evidence of an individual’s academic performance to a debt instrument.”  

Having said that, the writer goes ahead to explain how withholding the certificates could entrench inequality in the society. 

One would easily rubbish Sing’oei’s op-ed as an attempt to drum up support for policies by the establishment. I did not look at it that way. 

Professional perspective is crucial in untangling potentially contagious issues.  By professionals, I mean those people engaged or thoroughly trained and qualified in a given occupation. In this context these are, among others, physicians, engineers, scientists, sleuths, lawyers, writers, and chefs. 

To my estimation, they have left the press to others. One can only hope that they have other public spheres where they give commentary on public issues. But is that the case?

When professionals withdraw from commenting on matters affecting the public, professionals are giving room to subjectivity to reign. Technically, they are allowing mules shuttling politics to call the shots. 

Pundits should not act on a whim when things take the wrong route. Instead, they should shoulder the responsibility of ensuring that politicians, and groups with vested selfish interests, do not  chart the way forward on matters of public interest. 

Its high time professionals assumed rose up to the occasion and lead the nation to the right direction.



Tuesday 22 July 2014

Inside the oak car to town





Pius Maundu
@piusmaundu
Inside the oak car to town


Thursday. I hurriedly prepared Tina for school. 

If anyone could listen carefully, I was a bit hurried in my utterances.

“Come over here for tea. Here is your sweater. Have you brushed your teeth? Be quick so that Sharon will not laugh at you.”

I can swear she sensed this was unlike me. Normally, I don’t drag her from the cot. When the clock hits 7:00 am, she would suggestively start rolling. But she wouldn’t wake up until someone initiates it, just the way older women crave for attention, and all. 

“Tina! Tina! Waky! waky!” 

She would spring up, go to the potty, then ask for maziwa lala

Today, she is sullen, askance is all over her countenance. 

Hutakuwa fwend yangu!” This was her. Cursing. 

It struck a raw nerve. Especially as I hoisted her through the flights of stairs from the 6th floor. 

Traditionally, as we chilled for traffic to ease on Outering, I would pick a bougeinvillea flower from the shrubbery spread between the railway line and the underway, for her. Sometimes two. The other for Sharon. But not today. 

Tina, 3, did not even reminisce on the mangoes and fresh milk she feasted on at babu’s last April. A complete departure from her preoccupation when we paced to Karah Christian every morning. 

And you could tell she suspected my ‘bye’ from the way she refused to wave back, as she does, before diapperaing towards the block housing Baby Class. 

At first it got me forlorn. But then it dawned on me that I was to catch the Embakasi train. I had 8 minutes to do so.  

Outside Pipeline Estate, I poised strategically to board the last car. Its normally quaint, in unsightly red oak. Today, one of the lamps on its roof is dangling precariously. Its a miracle it had not fallen by the time the train pulled at the Station. Nevertheless this car does not disappoint.

For months now, two middle aged males have been finding space in this car. And they would keep everyone enjoying the bumpy ride to town. 

Forget the preachers. This duo trades in unconventional banter that would pass for ordinary conversations in any Nairobi street, were it not for the constant applause of the remaining travellers, and the ease at which its woven. 

“Do you feel safe here?” one of them possed, the vertically challenged one, directing the question to no one in particular, and after a momentarily silence, puntuated by hooting of the train as it screeches at Tumaini Estate, he quickly supplied the rejoinder. 

“I don’t trust those scanners they were running on us. If anything, I feel we are more exposed in this train. Why don’t they get armed Police in each of the cars?”

As if reminded of their vulnerability, everyone is pensive, dead silent, but certainly following the developing story. Then the other one, the one with a curvy nose, reacts.

“What! Police? If you expect the Police here you are mistaken. Do you know how much they earn?”
“12.”

“12?”

“12, 000. A gross of 14, 000 which ends up at 12, 000 after taxation. Just like teachers’.” This spraks more reactions, mostly rebuttals.

“Teachers earn more than 12, 000. Especially secondary school teachers.”

“You know nothing! A constable earns 24,000 which comes to 18, 000 after statutory deductions. Not 12, 000.”

“You are wrong! The Police do not pay taxes.  When you rise above a Cardet, you enjoy all your salary.” This came from on dangling white earphones who seemed agitated that the interactants were green on the renumerations regimes of the security agencies. 

Were it not for the roaring of the engine of the Kariobangi train that zoomed past this one at Makadara, he would have continued with his agitation. 

When the fast-moving train to our left was long gone, the first man initiates more talk. This time choosing a different topic.  

“By the way those who despise guys who live in ghettos are mistaken.”

“What’s good in a ghetto?,” curvy nose retorted. 

“Life is enjoyable. With 5 bob you can buy 2 tomatoes and an onion in Mukuru. Rent is 700 while electricity, the one they bury live cables from the mains, is 500. And with this power, you can always warm your bath water anytime.”

“But that you have to ensure that when you are bathing, you do not touch any part of the mabati room. Otherwise, you are dead meat,” this was curvy nose, deafened by applauses, mirth from the 20-strong audience. 

But the part that thrilled all was when he, curvy nose, described how landlords handle errant tenants in ghettos. 

“Don’t be cheated. Ghetto life is tough. I’m talking from experience.” 

At this point, even those who were choking on chuckle noticed the sad shaking of his head. 

“In my ramshackle, I had this safari bed only. Five days into the new month in arrears, the landlord sneaked in in my absence, unhinged the door, and took it away, exposing all my earthly belongings.”

All along, I had steeled myself, and would only awe at the ability of this duo to trigger converstions without cutting a sweat. Only if it could be this easy on Facebook! But even in that sombre mood, I could not control my laughter, nuanced in wells of tears springing from my now blood shot eyes. 

It only worsened when his peer, the one who had initiated the convo, felt for him, albeit sarcastically.

“That was raw. Its apparent that your landlord came from Kathonzweni,” he seemed to muse, referring to an ASAL in Makueni County. 

At this point, I was breathless on mirth. I did not even have to wait him to qualify the mentioning of the sleepy neighborhood. 

To my left, an elfin lady who, it seems, had been following my reactions turned my direction. Thank God she did it in more decorum than the tickets lady did. 

“Are you OK?” Of course I was OK. 

By the time my eyes had dried, we were disembarking. I thought about the wit in the duo as I paced to sit an interview at Delta, Westlands.