- Ashford Kimani reflects on J.P.N. Makenzi’s unconventional approach to leadership and student discipline.
- He recalls how Makenzi allegedly redirected a planned Moi Forces Academy strike through creative engagement.
- The lesson, Kimani argues, is that effective leaders offer constructive alternatives instead of relying on prohibition.
There are school administrators who manage schools, and there are those who transform them. In the mid-1990s, J.P.N. Makenzi belonged to the latter category. His transfer from the prestigious Kapsabet Boys to the giant military-run Moi Forces Academy (MFA) became a subject of intense discussion in education circles. It was not an ordinary transfer. It was, in many ways, a test of whether a school administrator could transplant his philosophy of leadership into a completely different environment.
Moi Forces Academy was a remarkable school academically, particularly in the KCSE examinations. Its dominance had, however, come with an unintended consequence. Success had bred confidence, and confidence had sometimes mutated into arrogance. Some boys had developed egos bigger than my “ears.” Their demeanour suggested that they believed the school’s academic reputation had elevated them into little demigods.
There were stories of teachers who had to seek permission from students before assigning them work. Whether every such story was entirely accurate is beside the point. What mattered was the perception that discipline at MFA had deteriorated even as academic performance remained impressive.
Makenzi did not arrive to admire what he found. He came to change it.
His vision was larger than examination results. He wanted Moi Forces Academy to produce not merely boys who could dominate KCSE, but young men who could eventually dominate life with integrity, discipline and responsibility. He understood a fundamental principle of education: a school can produce excellent grades and still fail in its most important responsibility—character formation.
Naturally, the proposed changes were not universally welcomed.
The boys, accustomed to a certain way of doing things, resisted. And, as has often been the case in our schools and society, when dialogue becomes difficult, the strike becomes the preferred language of protest.
A different response to a planned strike
Word reached Makenzi one Thursday morning that the boys were planning to strike the following Friday evening. A conventional administrator might have summoned the student leaders, issued threats, called parents or prepared the police. Makenzi did none of these things.
Instead, he smiled.
He understood that leadership is sometimes about seeing possibilities where others see crises.
He summoned the school cateress and instructed her to prepare green boiled maize. Then he contacted his counterpart at State House Girls and challenged the girls to a “debate” with MFA boys the following day.
The challenge was accepted.
This was, by any standard, a daring strategy.
At that time, the sight of State House Girls at Moi Forces Academy had a psychological effect that perhaps no disciplinary committee could match. Suddenly, boys who had been preparing to confront authority discovered that there were more interesting things in the world than rebellion.
The cold June weather made the situation even more dramatic. The fog and mist were thick enough to obscure almost everything—including, one suspects, common sense.
On Friday afternoon, two buses carrying the State House Girls arrived at MFA. They were ushered into the social hall.
Makenzi then went to the Form Three and Form Four classes and announced that a bilateral negotiation was taking place between MFA and State House Girls. The boys were invited to witness the “auspicious occasion.”
The response was immediate.
There was a commotion as boys scrambled to get to the hall. Nobody wanted to arrive late. After all, when it comes to girls, every opportunity counts.
Then came the second ingredient in Makenzi’s unconventional recipe: green boiled maize.
Before long, the boys who had been preparing to strike were sitting with the girls, eating maize, talking and exchanging notes. What had been planned as a confrontation with the administration gradually turned into an afternoon of interaction.
Four hours passed.
The strike never happened.
Whether one attributes the outcome to the girls, the maize, youthful curiosity or Makenzi’s strategic brilliance, the fact remains that the administrator had neutralised a potentially disruptive situation without shouting, threatening or imposing force.
The art of offering an alternative
There is an important leadership lesson here.
Makenzi did not tell the boys, “Don’t strike.” He told them, in effect, “Do this instead.”
That distinction is profound.
Much of our leadership language is built around prohibitions: Don’t do this. Don’t go there. Don’t question. Don’t challenge. Don’t complain. We spend enormous amounts of energy telling people what they should not do, yet very little time showing them what they can do instead.
But human beings need alternatives.
A young person who is told simply not to rebel may still remain angry. A student who is told not to strike may still feel unheard. A dissatisfied employee who is told not to complain may simply find another platform for expressing frustration.
Effective leadership does something different. It redirects energy.
It takes anger and turns it into dialogue. It takes rebellion and turns it into participation. It takes frustration and creates an alternative channel through which it can be expressed constructively.
My psychology professor would probably describe Makenzi’s approach as conflict transformation at its finest.
The lesson extends far beyond schools.
Parents can learn it. Teachers can learn it. Principals can learn it. Politicians can learn it. Employers can learn it. Even communities can learn it.
Sometimes telling people “No” only strengthens their determination to proceed. But when a leader says, “Here is another way,” the conversation changes.
That is the genius of creative leadership.
Leadership beyond administration
J.P.N. Makenzi would later lead Lenana School, Machakos School and Aga Khan Academy during some of their finest hours. His career became a testament to the fact that school leadership is not merely about timetables, examinations, discipline files and staff meetings. It is about understanding people.
It is about knowing when to enforce, when to negotiate and when to create an entirely different path.
Today, JPN runs his own school and remains actively involved in community activities. Those who knew him as “JP” remember a man whose leadership was characterised not simply by authority, but by an ability to think differently.
READ ALSO: Moi’s longtime physician Dr David Silverstein dies aged 82
Perhaps that is what our education system needs more of today: leaders who do not merely stand at the gate of possibility shouting “Don’t!”, but those who have the imagination and courage to point in another direction and say:
“Do this instead.”
Long live JP.
Adapted from the reflections of Dominic Musyoka, PATA Habari-News.
By Ashford Kimani
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