Truth be told, the prevailing ambience of political bickering coupled with a really difficult economic environment is causing Kenyan citizens considerable anxiety and despondency.
You realise that things are going south when, during a photo-op at the office, dejected colleagues - previously bubbly and enthusiastic - manage only tired, long faces when urged by the cameraman to appear their most photogenic.
Since Kenya is a nation of 50 million souls and a regional economic powerhouse, we always stand to lose more than our neighbours, more so because ours is probably the closest thing to a bastion of human rights in Eastern Africa.
Indeed, there are few countries in the continent where caricaturing and nicknaming a head of state - as we regularly do here - does not soon earn you an altered state of the head (pun intended). Our cliched designation as 'an island of peace in a troubled region' may not be entirely vainglorious, if one ignores outlying misadventures, such as the politically instigated imbroglio of 2007.
The severity of the 2007 post-election violence and the reputational damage it caused us internationally ought to be the dry bones in a Nigerian proverb which cause every 'old woman' to eschew enabling even the remotest environment for a repeat. The demon that then sought to push this country over the precipice apparently missed its target.
I would say, with all due brotherly sympathy, that it has recently achieved its diabolical objective further north by converting Sudan into the nightmarish inferno we are seeing across all media outlets. That is how easy it is to ruin a great country!
A nation in crisis resembles a commuter vessel passing through a black spot. Hearts are pounding. Many hold their breath, praying silently for the grace to see another day. At this point, ethnicities, axes to grind, social classes and other trivia are temporarily shelved, as all on board become magically united by the scary prospect of mutual destruction, or maybe, triumph.
Unless Jonah's whale is on standby to do the swallowing, the destiny of the wayfarers will entirely depend on the driver's judicious dexterity at the helm.
Anyone who travelled the Mombasa-Nairobi Road before the year 2000 is familiar with this uncomfortable suspense. After many years of official neglect, the whole road was a veritable moonscape. Gorgeous buses with fabulous names and irreverent slogans routinely shot past the 150km per hour mark, evading potholes and oncoming trailers by a hair's breadth, much to the utter terror of the travellers. Fatal accidents were commonplace.
Commuters sometimes protested. I remember the shrill concerns of one hysterical woman being mercilessly snuffed out by an irritable driver's terse retort: "kwani mimi pia sina uhai?" (I also have a life to lose) in that honey-dipped coastal Swahili accent.
Some discerning passengers correctly attributed his outbursts, not to an irredeemably dark heart, but to the fatigue caused by his employer's exacting itinerary. They promptly assured him that their prayers were with him thus pacifying him. Everyone arrived safely at their destinations.
History is replete with similar instances of national setbacks becoming an opportunity for valiant ordinary men and women to emerge from the shadows and shine. Franklin Delano Roosevelt who gave us the pithy quote that "the only thing to fear is fear itself" as he successfully battled the Great Depression - the worst economic meltdown in America, which made the rate of unemployment shoot to 100 per cent in many states during the 1930s - readily comes to mind.
My conviction is that the current hardships will not break Kenyans, who, since their kinetic agitation for independence from the British in the 1950s have proved remarkably resilient against numerous adversities, including Covid-19. Tribulations might even push us to 'break records', as one sage put it.
This article was inspired by the rare spectacle of a Kenyan reading a book in a cafe while awaiting his omelette to be done. If every citizen practiced such self-education, we could soon wean ourselves from disproportionate dependency on politicians for everything: Making our news, monetary handouts, interpreting statutory documents, and ultimately being our only heroes (It looks to me more like national emotional sabotage).
Ultimately, the hero should first be you and me. As someone beautifully put it, "(heroism) can be offering a helping hand to someone in difficulty [or] introducing a new way of doing things at your workplace. Be positive and remember we are stronger together. You can be a hero by choosing to do good (as) this (gloomy cloud) shall (soon be) past". Anyone could begin his or her heroic journey by coming through for one of the many hard-hit families around us who are sleeping hungry.
I may never meet President Ruto in person. But he should know that some Kenyans understand the crazy demands of his office, and that our prayers are with him. It no longer matters whether or not I voted him on August 9, 2022. My wellbeing now absolutely depends on his judicious dexterity at the helm.
