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The sun sets beneath the hills that are stretched into the distance as I lazily sit on a couch while I enjoy the spectacular view. “No two sunsets are ever the same,” I soliloquise, enamoured by the ever changing hues of the sky, shifting from gold, to pink and eventually, black.

You see, sunsets make me sad for a variety of reasons and sometimes, for no reason at all.
They make me think of another day wasted with procrastination, beating myself up for not studying or doing some other mundane task. They also make me think of the impending doom that is about to befall this world, as the list of events prophesied over an aeon ago are fulfilled one by one. Other times, it simply reminds me that beautiful things are often fleeting at best, and in the end all men must die. I digress, or so it seems, but that is one of the reasons I love Kenya. The sunsets here are beautiful. A liken Kenya to a mother with over forty children, who fight each other for the biggest piece of meat. Some children are stronger than the others, and so they take from their weaker siblings and share major parts among themselves, leaving the rest starving or dissatisfied. So what do the weaker siblings do? They band against their stronger counterparts with the hopes of taking the meat that they possess and making it theirs. All the while, mama Kenya silently weeps and whispers, “This isn’t what I wanted.”

I’ve always thought of running away to some first world country where I’ll have a better chance of living a good life than here. All the goings on that occur on a daily basis have been met with indifference on my part, because I felt that it didn’t concern me. But now I find myself checking the news and looking up on the country’s economy. I’m curious to know who did what and which firm invested where. I get pissed off when politicians threaten to upset the current peace by inciting violence which once upon a time brought mama Kenya to her knees and almost took her to a point of no return.

It took me a while to realise this but…I actually love my country and care about whatever happens to it. Frankly, Kenya is a messed up country, but it is my messed up country. It’s the place where I was born and raised, where I felt love, joy, anger, sadness and pain. It’s a place I call home. When someone you care about is in a bad state, you try your best to rectify them instead of running away and letting them suffer. I believe we are at a critical point in our country’s future and we need to ensure that nothing happens that will jeopardize this future. If we are to pull off a Singapore and become one of the world’s leading economies, then we really need to put mama Kenya’s wishes ahead of our own and share the meat fairly and equitably, so that all siblings may truly love one another and make their mother proud.

Photo Courtesy: zipo.co.ke

Something silly about Kenyans; they never learn. I mean, wasn’t 2007 post-election the biggest lesson for us as a country? Seeing the CORD anti-IEBC demos in Kisumu is just like watching the prediction of 2017 post-elections. It is dreadful. It is scary. It is alarming.

I have never been a fan of politics. In fact I never write about it. For a humanitarian, politics is just a filthy cloth to touch let alone wear. Although humanity is connected to politics such that it is best when they intertwine (i.e. good leadership and kind souls can do wonders to our country) these two things rarely ever come together over here. I am not politically affiliated, never have been and i’m not planning to be.

For the past few days the headlines have been about the CORD demos in Kisumu and how 8 Kenyans were shot by the police. Among those 8 injured is baby Jeremy who is just 6 years old. This angel at such a tender age already knows what it means to have a bullet in your body. This poor child has suffered the pain of having a hole dug in his body. He knows what it feels like going into the operation room, to be cut and to be bloody. You see his face and he is expressionless. But do you know lack of expressions is more saddening than it’s visibility. Seeing him cry means he is in pain but seeing him speechless means he is still trying to fathom what just happened. He is trying to let it sink in. He is drowning in the excruciating pain. His poor single mother doesn’t even know how to handle the situation.

But why, why don’t Kenyans ever learn??!

2007 post election violence clearly showed us what it really means to be a Kenyan. We were oppressed. We; the common Mwananchi. The local man who doesn’t have any relation to any politician. It was us who became IDP’s. Us who lost our mothers and fathers, our children and saw as our properties got burnt right in front of our eyes. It was us who were left with scars that will remain part of us for eternity. It wasn’t Raila or Uhuru or Kibaki or any other politician. It was us. They weren’t even scratched by all that happened. It was our floors filled with blood, tear gas, random gun shots and screams of agony. When will we ever learn that we are being our own enemies; digging our own graves??!

The demos in Kisumu have even affected the schools and businesses such that people and children are scared to go on with their daily activities. So now the minister of internal affairs has declared that there shouldn’t be any more demos due to the chaos taking place but will this rule be followed? And you know Kenyans hehe so long as it is not him or her who was injured, they will still appear the next time they are called for such.

If we are not careful, we are slowly creating another war to occur come next year elections. All this seems to be a shadow. If we don’t take it slow, we will definitely have more bloodshed, tear gas, police hitting Kenyans like dogs and more torture. Politicians are not your fathers to come nurse you when you are in the hospital after being shot from the chaos they started. Yes, it is true that it is our votes that count, that it is our votes that makes a good leader take the seat but let’s learn to play our cards well just like they play their cards marvelously. Be smart. Act smart. Learn how to see through your politicians. Be your neighbour’s keeper, and not the reason they are having a funeral. And most importantly, be a loyal Mwananchi to your fellow Wananchi.