Of Christmas feast, farting cows, and goats that won't stop bleating after vaccine

I wanted to wish you a very merry Christmas, although there are many Kenyans who have nothing to celebrate this season, because everything has been taken away, but I was distracted by Prezzo Bill Ruto’s wacky sense of humour.

When the man is not reading from a teleprompter, gesticulating wildly and foaming at the mouth, he delivers memorable quips that leave Kenyans in stitches, and which somehow infuriate him for reasons I cannot comprehend.

He particularly dislikes being reminded that he appears to straddle two universes: the one he promised two years ago, and the one Kenyans inhabit today. He promised, for instance, to rout out “Deep State,” but he’s created a Deep State oiled by edible oil oligarchs, running with the efficiency of a million-shillings Rolex.

And did he promise to vanquish the so-called dynasties, or did he mean he’d create one made in his own image? It’s hard to keep track of Prezzo Ruto’s claims…

So, this week, rather than preparing for Christmas in a reflective mood, the air is afoul with too much talk about farting. That might sound crude for a decent family paper like this, but this convergence of Bottom-Up and bottoms politics does evoke a vision of a nation tearing at the seams.

Let me explain. Prezzo Ruto says all animals in our land will receive a vaccination, by fire and by force, mpende msipende. No, there is no disease outbreak, he just wants to have it done, because he said so. And those claiming that such animals won’t be able to break wind, Prezzo Ruto says with palpable irritation, are simply being stupid.

I don’t know how we got here, or even how bovines were identified as a priority area, and since every Kenyan has an opinion on the matter, those diverse opinions have ticked Prezzo Ruto off, precipitating a tirade of unpresidential language, like calling questioning Kenyans, “stupid.”

Our Swahili ancestors said kuuliza si ujinga, because there is merit in asking. And all Kenyans are asking is a little bit of information, such as the origin of the vaccine, who’s picking the tab for the vaccines, and why from our decades of animal and crop husbandry, such vaccines have never been deemed necessary.

I have a different proposition. We need proper public participation. And since humans cannot be trusted to deliver any poll with integrity, let’s leave it to the animals. If they fall sick, there will be meds to deal with that. If they are not sick, we should get on with our lives and let animals carry on with their farting business.

I understand 22 million herds of cattle are targeted in this drive, alongside some 50 million goats. I don’t know how many will be spared the jab because they will face a more lethal prick to the jugular to provide meat for the Christmas lunch.

Since I have a small herd of sheep, which I invariably call “goats,” to the chagrin of more discerning farmers, I have determined that they will not be injected with any concoction made in Kenya or wherever, unless I say so.

After all, would a citizen be sent to jail for preventing his herd from getting jabs against non-existent diseases?

Or will they build jails for goats, before they can build classrooms needed for the January schools’ reopening?

And what’s to be done should we get our herds vaccinated and goats start bleating for the rest of their lives? This is not conjecture; Kenyans committed similar blunders two years ago and they have been bleating ever since.

Kenyans collectively feel the country is headed in the wrong direction—if I was polling, I’d have asked if we have the wrong head— but since I didn’t vote, I guess my opinion on the matter doesn’t count.