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Kenya is a motherland which has lost her motherliness. Her children wander, stranded, sobbing - wondering why their mother looks away from them, deaf to their screams.
If a mother cannot hear the cry of a child, whose cry will she hear? A Parliament that saves those responsible for crimes needs itself to be saved. Citizens are thrown under the bus as their representatives enjoy the air-conditioned bus cabin. In their comfort, the parliamentarians concluded that the stones in the fertiliser were only a perception. Magical Kenya it is!
Either we are super brilliant or we have been stricken with an affliction of foolishness. Either we are very strategic or have just become carefree. If we are strategic, we have a plan that, like an underground river, may be misunderstood but after some known miles, will reappear on the surface – healthier and bigger.
If we are carefree, we are undertaking a ruthless operation where the citizen is nothing but a pawn, a step on a staircase to a floor where Wanjiku has no room allocated. The rooms are strictly reserved for the Owners of Kenya Club. Just like the staircase is not random, the pain being injected into Kenyans is not only real but deliberate.
Do Kenyans matter?
Do the feelings of Kenyans matter? Maybe feeling can be dismissed by some as subjective and not measurable in governance terms. Let us pose a more quantifiable question: do the views of Kenyans matter? Public participation is the custodian of Kenya’s views basket. But more and more it is proving that even before public participation, public exclusion has already been picked as the way. Hypocritical teams roam the county well knowing that the views of Kenyans do not matter. The party position usurps the people’s expressions.
One wonders whether this government intends to return to the electorate to seek a mandate for a second term. How do you hurt one whom you will soon need help from? Such insensitivity evinces arrogance. Ordinary Kenyans are treated as brainless. They are dismissed to cry themselves to sleep. Their sobs are their lullabies.
Heartlessness is a sign of a dead conscience. The ambition of evil goes beyond numbing the conscience to killing it. Where conscience is dead, remorse is unknown. All relationships become self-serving and therefore “use-and-dump.” It is saddening to see zealous parliamentarians defend positions that they know sure well will oppress the people. The opposition’s voice is muffled. Wanjiku and Hustler are left dangerously exposed.
Contemporary Kenyan leaders are all about hedonistic ambitions with the state captured to serve the appetites of a few. A dead conscience has no remorse – what matters is fluent execution of business. A dead conscience is a moral desert. Lies become a normal tool for doing business - like how the ruling party intentionally overpromised knowing well the sting it would bring.
How will the public respond when its abuser comes running claiming “I need you – please help!”. Will the voter propagate the cycle of abuse or break it? The season is ripe for breaking the deception cycle. Soft adjustments will not help – only radical ones packaged in the right spirit.
Somewhere in the background, the ruling party is reworking its narrative to one that will convince the Hustler to give it a second term. Voters, too, should be sharpening their ballot moment to make it cut deeply and bleed heavily. When lawlessness goes higher, lawfulness must step up too. Justice must overtake corruption speed. Tax hikes must spark integrity spikes.
We are frequently being scolded by government agents to “leave within our means”. This is fine until they come for the means! The tax raids are leaving people without the means to live within! On a normal day, a rise in taxes will be coupled with an increase in service. But not so in Kenya where a raise in taxes is a raise to serve the powerful. Mouths screaming “It is our time to eat” have increased and the size of their potbellies, too. Kenya has the character of a continent with many countries within it.
It is obvious that our political leaders do not live in the same country as citizens. Leaders live large while Mama Mboga is now only “Mama” because the mboga business has since been impossible to maintain. Citizens and the powerful do not even speak the same language. One speaks “Belch” while the other speaks “Yawn”. Their eating habits are different in that one asks for the menu while the other is on the menu. You would think that living side by side would stir some warmth but the powerful mock the weak – just like the settlers would mock the natives. The powerful have no tears for the poor. They oathed to serve, but their goal was to be savages.
Poor Kenyan, brace yourself – for the journey ahead is long. Zaccheus has refused to come down. He has declined the offer of Jesus to come to his house. He says he does not need salvation. He has stated in public that he has the system. He has declared that he is coming for more raids and you must comply. For those attacking his wealth, he has displayed it for all to see –mta do? Those who catch feelings concerning his wealth can go ahead and catch fire! He will return nothing to anyone.
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His philosophy is, “My little finger is thicker than my father’s waist. My father laid on you a heavy yoke; I will make it even heavier. My father scourged you with whips; I will scourge you with scorpions”. According to Zaccheus, the weak love people and the strong love money. A leader who is moved by the people is not worth their position. A true leader must people-proof themselves with a severe attitude of indifference that causes them to “feel nothing.”
As the scorpion stings, Kenya is strangely calm. Who numbed us? Who cursed us? Who stole our voice? Who blurred our sight? As the poison travels in the body, death and incapacitation are inevitable. Time is of the essence. The voice of dissatisfaction must rise.
Angry citizens have the power to keep the powerful awake at night. The Gathoni Wamuchomba and Okiya Omtatah tribe must breed and multiply!