I am seated in the lounge after a sumptuous supper, watching the evening bulletin. The news anchor utters a familiar name belonging to a man I see very regularly. In a few, the camera rolls showing where the latter is talking to a mass of people, selling himself to them about how he has been a great leader, declaring how useless the people of the other camp are and how he is the only one they should dim fit for office.
I keep asking in my mind why the hell the news editors thought that that would be an awesome piece to make it to the cast. It’s a saturated story done over and over during such periods. But his words are luscious; you really want to listen to what his next statement would be even if it is all an array of rotten lyrics to a song he barely knows. He’s doing his best to prove a point and I’m getting sicker by every second that ticks away.
I change the station, and shock on me! They are just beginning his story on this other side. I am eager to know how KWS is dealing with the developing story of poached elephant tasks or how a farmer in Kirinyaga is able to cope with the tough economic challenges he’s facing in this age. Does it even occur to these news men that I know the man they are talking about more than the whole country actually does? Yet, people are ready to die for him out there, pasting city walls with his name as well as sticking posters of his face that spoil the serenity of our lovely town. How sad. At least Jesus died so he could save God’s people. I am not sure what the case is with the diehard political followers who love their politicians so ardently in this country.
Each word he speaks on that media microphone stabs my heart. Yes, he has given me everything I have ever needed. He has sacrificed so much for us and his friends, but he robs his countrymen! A fact that leaves me in shear disgust! This man is my father! And yes, he is the politician standing on that podium. I am tired of listening to him talk on screen. He is not whom you see.
I hate politics for what he has made it be; a dirty game that knows no principles, no love, and no truth, that innocent people can die just so he could have his way to the top. I love my father but I do not love what he does. He has perfected the art of treachery to his people over the years, wooing voters to make his name reign in the counting of the ballot papers, but leaving them unattended to in the following five years. That is nothing short of murder! We are very rich at home. He has big lands, some of which he has written in my name and that of my siblings, but the people he represents in parliament are a mere caricature of decency. They live in shameful poverty.
I do not comprehend why Kenyans keep voting for him. I always shy away from taking him to his campaigns whenever he wants me to. I cannot stand the emptiness of the people around him who claim to be faithful friends yet they are his fellow manky hyenas. I cannot stand the hungry party members, devoid of sincerity, who are in his party simply because he pays them to be there and gives them a little something to attend those noisy rallies so that he may cheat the country that he has numbers. I’m just thankful that casting the ballot is a secret affair. If we would still have been using the Mlolongo system, then I wouldn’t be voting, because my vote would certainly not go to him.
The government in which he boasts of a ministerial docket is filthy full of men and women who are not at all passionate about liberating their people from the mental poverty that is finishing them off. They adore being worshipped. They silence those who champion for true reforms. During elections, the country is given to the highest bidder and the fate of the nation is left to disgraceful big wigs. How can someone honestly sell his vote? The biggest voice he ever has as a Kenyan citizen?! Then I will see the same person on the news in the streets protesting about how the price of unga has gone too far up yet his Member of Parliament is the Minister for Finance. Just how long can Kenyans stand their own foolishness? Who shall save them from themselves?
Our democracy is still in its infancy. We languish in the dirty pool of political fanaticism and it is not taking us anywhere. The saddest part is that we do not want to let go of old habits. It would have been different if it were poor men running for office, but the people vying here are rich, some beyond measure and my father is an example. He does not love his country one bit! Even if their mass of wealth would not be as important, then at least some sanity ought to be observed in the calibre of people who are voted in any elective post in regard to their pillars of thought, plans for the country or accountability. But here, everything thrives on impunity. The same thieves keep creeping back into parliament.
I tell you now, dear Kenyan, be wary of men of such breed. They have robbed you enough. You need to wake up from that slumber you find so sweet! There is a fierce fire brewing under the bed. Wake up, I say!! Kenya needs you to wake up.