For the sake of our kids


I am listening to the late Phillip’s music as I always do when I am relaxing in the house and striking the keyboard to try and string words together for a story. A song is fading away and it actually sums up what I am about to write.

  1. Politicians thank you father
  2.            For making them be able
  3. To lie with a straight face
  4. While the nation cries
  5. They wanna thank you lord

We are heading into extremely turbulent times. Our politicians will come with every manner of stories and rhetoric. They will lie to us with straight faces like Dube says in the song above. If we don’t act wise, we might end up with an irreversibly polarized and a hotly divided country. It is a big test for our nationhood. Unlike in previous electioneering years, we have a deep penetration of social media in the country.  Anything done or said in Kisumo is read by a person in Nairobi before a fish in the lake can blink twice. An occurrence in Mombasa will be read or viewed by a person in Mandera before a palm tree can lazily swing from one side to the other in the breeze.

Whether or not we will remain a united country depends on how we the electorate behave during this period up to and after the elections. If we don’t care about the wellbeing of the country and the prevailing peace, we should at least do it for our children. Born and to be born. Let us ask ourselves what kind of Kenya they will grow in. Will they have a Kenya to call home? One united Kenya? A place they can go to school and come back home in one piece? A Kenya they can crisscross freely in search of daily bread for their families? We had a chance ourselves to grow in peaceful environments generally. Allow them a chance to play soccer in the neighbourhoods, to go skinny dipping in the rivers and the streams, to go for a school tour of Bomas of Kenya or Menengai crater or Mombasa, to watch nickelodeon from the comfort of their homes.

Let’s not deny our children this opportunity. Peace is paramount. Far much better than having a politician from you community/clan on the seat. The only person who can probably benefit you if they are on the seat is your own father. And this is not a guarantee. Let us not burn our country through divisive posts on social media.  And while at it, I am calling upon Kenyans of good will to sign a petition to compel Mark to rename Facebook-Kenya-Chapter as Hatebook.  Going by the level of hate and vitriol being exuberated on social media, the extent to which the holier-than-thou go to pillory other people and the height of hypocrisy portrayed by some, we therefore have a strong case to persuade Zuckerberg to have the change of name implemented. His tool that was meant to be purely social is being used by a good few in the most antisocial ways. I am foreseeing a situation where, like one Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov, he will one day wish he had discovered an agricultural app rather than the online social networking app that so many people are using to advance their own sociopathic goals.

Safe for a few guys who use the social applications to advance love and compassion, the likes of of Ndungu Nyoro (may God bless him and others of the ilk), majority of us are fanning animosity and seem hell-bent on seeing our country burn. We are literary dragging the country to the dogs. We can’t debate and exchange our views soberly on social media. We call others unprintable expletives when they rightly air their views, we blame and stereotype entire communities instead of countering an argument with facts. We support politicians from our communities blindly and defend them whenever they seem to be cornered.

That’s why I am calling upon Kenyans of good will to ask our mums to pray for our country. I am not calling upon ourselves to pray for our country reason being we can’t be the instigators of hatred and be the same people asking for God’s intervention. I am leaving it to our mums. Mums are so close to God. They are the only people who can put our case to God and catch his attention straightway. From God, our mums come in third after the guy from Bethlehem and the good angles. The rest of us come too far in the hierarchy. Too far so that when our mums crane their necks to try and locate us, we are nowhere to be seen. The only guys who come behind us are the internal corporate auditors and the traffic police who man hongo blocks.

We should ask our mums to request God to help from being myopic, petty and mediocre in our engagements. To instill in us the lacking capability to see and speak out against evils no matter our relationship with the people involved.

To ask God to bless us with the wherewithal to call politicians’ bluff with disregard to our political affiliations.

Ability to accept that a wrong is a wrong even when the person pointing it out did not point an earlier wrong committed by a different person. Let us stop the nonsense of asking people “when so and so did ABC where were you?” It doesn’t help. It doesn’t make the current wrong right.

Let our mums pray for us so that we can distinguish the political elitists from entire tribes. No politician brings food to anyone’s table or stool no matter how close they are in your family tree leave alone tribe.

Our mums should ask God to help us emancipate ourselves from the shackles of captivity (mind captives) by the politicians who are less than 10,000 in a country of 40 million plus. May the lord also give us a leader (president) who will have the kahoonas to hold all the corrupt men and women by their balls, bind their hands and legs and throw them into the few remaining muddy pools of the crocodile infested Mara river now that wildebeests  are crossing the dry riverbed whistling and waving at the emaciated crocs.

As I close, remember we need a united Kenya after 2017. At least for our kids. Let’s preserve the country for them. They deserve to grow in a peaceful environment like we did.

The music is still playing

It takes a million people
To build up a good reputation
But it takes one stupid fool
To destroy everything they done.


Teach the world

Teach them right





By w & mk

An individual increasingly disturbed by each untold story.

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