If you asked me where Kenya would be, politically, next month, my answer to you would be “I can’t tell.” Here is why. We have no properly constituted Electoral body, the contestants have become the referees in parliament. We have no Leader of Government Business because we have no properly elected government; what we have is “a coalition of the unwilling,” that is sitting in wait for 2012, guzzling our shilling at a drunken pace, readying for battle.
Aren’t we Unthankful?
We are a people linked to the current “Emperor and Guardian of the Citadel” by an umbilical chord. The President of the United States, who is a Kenyan through his father, could have chosen to be Kenyan at eighteen years, but decided to be an American. That is how close Kenyans are to the kill, yet we are starving.This man, President Barack Obama, must be grieving in shame. He has killed a Hippo, a very fat one, and has nowhere in Kenya to land with his kill because our so-called Kenyan leaders are feasting over a skeletal carcass of a poorly fed cow from somewhere in Nyanza.
Amid the laughable spectre of public moral rot, our people are waiting for cereal imports, some of which are rotting in Mombasa—unfit to be consumed because of an explosion in the high-seas that generated lots of a toxic compound known as Aluminium phosphide. Now if you have some knowledge of chemistry like me, you may sleep easy on your empty stomach, knowing that, though you are hungry, some chemist at the Government Chemist in Nairobi has saved you from consuming bad corn! But you are not me, and you must be smelling corruption in the convoluted explanation of why you have no corn to buy. That the turmoil of early 2008 that displaced farmers to refugee camps from where they have been unable to escape back to their farms, gives you no reason to hope at all!
What do you smell?
Meanwhile your leaders are printing the “skeletal cow” known as the Kenyan Shilling in such huge numbers that the Minister for Finance cannot count it with modern computers, let alone budget and account for it, and his royalty is blaming computers made by man and typewriters attended to by man for the endemic typos in the budget!
Yes, a Kenyan has killed a hippo, and is willing to bring the fat carcass home, but has nowhere to land with his kill in Kenya because we are busy looting the Shilling which is 80 times skinnier than our adventurous son’s American Dollar. Kenyan’s, Ramogi must be turning in his grave, Ajuma must be turning in his grave, Kenyatta must be cursing everyone from the grave yonder. Watoto wa simba si simba, in our case!
The last I heard was the brave Kenyan hunter from the Citadel of wealth and Power has decided to land in Ghana, unload then proceed to the land of Cleopatra and Mark Antony. He could alternately have landed in Juba, Sudan, were it not for the turmoil there, and this mourning Kenyan’s voice could have cheered, not because he is unpatriotic, but because listening to history is preferable to rewarding rot.
What shame on us Kenyans!