Kenyan Politics

Wanjiku was so proud to be a parent. Her daughter was her pride and joy. She could never imagine anyone hurting her. When she came of age, she was ecstatic to take her to the neighbourhood school. But somewhere along the road, the school descended into decay. Her pleas fell on deaf ears when she complained. She was loyal to the neighbourhood school, but she loved her daughter more. She had to transfer her daughter to a better school. It comes to a point where you have to cut your loses and decide what you love more. Wanjiku chose to love her daughter more. Kenya has been playing a game of grandfather politics for too long. It’s always a case of, if my father was good at this, I can hack it too. Kenyatta, Odinga, Mudavadi, Moi to name a few. These are names of hand-me-down politicians. Basically a country descended into a pair of old jeans. At least in a monarchy you already knew you were in shit luck. Kenyan democracy is worse, The illusion of free will. A class of grown ass men still trying to pull the wool over our eyes. The same petty politicians aligning, and re-aligning in a game of musical chairs every 5 years. Making fools of themselves on national news and then making up.
I do hope that one day my fellow patriotic countrymen will see this. Maybe not today since this post will be seen by only a dozen eyeballs. But a day will come. A REVOLUTION. A day when the Kenyan people will align themselves. When they will realize that if I don’t stand by my brother who is with me in the trenches, we will remain gabbage rats forever. Because after all, there is nothing more powerful than an idea whose time has come. The old guard who have this country by the balls will be no more. Only then will Kenya see the light in that tunnel get brighter. You may say, I have a dream.