Diplomacy does not allow you to say that....

When Kenyan President Uhuru Kenyatta meets on Monday with President Trump, it will be in some senses like looking into a mirror.

Both men are fabulously wealthy scions of powerful families.

Both were improbably elected (twice in Kenyatta’s case) after controversial elections. Both are dogged by accusations of corruption.

In former times, a trip to the United States for Kenyan officials would include an expectation of lectures on corruption, democracy and the need to respect human rights.

On this occasion, that is hugely unlikely.

For one, Trump has not kept secret his admiration for strongmen nor his disdain for either democracy or democratic principles.

The United States’ silence over the Kenyatta administration’s deportation of foreign consultants, including an American citizen, working for the opposition’s election campaign, as well as its killing of dozens of perceived opposition supporters following the annulled presidential vote last year, was hard to miss.

For their part, Kenyatta and his henchmen have made no secret of their wish to institute a “benevolent” dictatorship in Kenya and to re-create the imperial presidency his father enjoyed during the 15-year period from the country’s independence from the United Kingdom in 1963 to his death in 1978.

It was during this time that the Kenyattas rose from having virtually nothing to becoming the richest family in the land, largely through preying on public resources.

Did i hear Trump say the Mombasa - Nairobi superhighway is going to be built?

Even when it comes to education, Kenya’s poor get a raw deal.

In 2003, when the government introduced — to great international fanfare and praise, including from former president Bill Clinton — free primary education in a bid to improve enrollment, a million extra kids turned up for class.

But because there was no investment in increasing the number of schools, and even more stupendous, the policy was implemented during a teacher hiring freeze, the system was predictably overwhelmed.

As standards plummeted, there was an exodus into private schools, which drove up their cost and locked the poor into a failing public system.

Another indication of the government’s cavalier approach to the rights of its less wealthy subjects was its reaction to the public outrage over a rape in June at a prestigious secondary school for girls bordering Kibra.

Without providing any proof, the authorities demolished all shops surrounding the school, claiming that they were hideouts for the suspected rapists, who to date have yet to be identified, much less caught.

It seemed very much like just another case of scapegoating the poor.

Kenya runs on a template that was designed to prey on the country’s least fortunate — a government structure that from colonial times has been both suspicious of and condescending toward the poor, preferring to see them as unpleasant and inconvenient wards rather than as full citizens to be engaged with and not just bossed around.

In short, Kenya is no country for the poor.