I knew things were elephant when tin animals strayed from their habitat in Nairobi's Uhuru Park and wandered on to Kenyatta Avenue, retaining remarkable poise and calm even as the world around them dissolved in a miasma of tear gas and pandemonium.
In Parliament, things were equally elephant; there was a stampede as other big-bodied fellows scrambled out through a tight underground tunnel.
I learnt afterwards those were the waheshimiwa sneaking out like thieves at night because the true owners of the house, the citizens, had made their way to town.
But what broke my heart was the unsightly razor-wire cordon thrown around the Nairobi State House, newly painted and garish, blooms of colour calling for attention, only to be garlanded with a crown of thorn.
