The kids are right: This generation will shame us and then save us

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There is something in the Kenyan air. Over the last week, clouds of dissent pooled around the capital, wispy and slight at first, but they rapidly bunched and thickened. When the storm finally descended, it was with a quiet rage, but the din had only been rising. Somehow, while we were sleeping, the gong of revolution was sounded, and its echoing clangs were impossible to ignore.

It has been clear to anyone paying attention exactly who sounded the war drums; everyone, that is, except the powers-that-be, for whom the idea that a bunch of kids could light such fires underneath them is laughable. And yet, when the fog clears and this story is told, it will be said that the revolution was sparked by a young person wearing gender-fluid pants and platform boots. The prospect of talking about Generation Z is a slightly terrifying one. Not only have they repeatedly warned elder millennials like myself to keep their name out of our mouths, but they also move with a scorched earth mentality I have personally not experienced since the glory days of mchongoano.