Fellow Kenyans, as the 2027 election circus pitches its tent, prepare for the greatest show on Earth: highly credentialed, obscenely wealthy pseudo-achievers descending from their gated heavens with fistfuls of notes and T-shirts printed with their own faces.
These are the same visionaries who, with their
first-class honours and offshore bank accounts, have turned public service into
a self-service buffet. And you, dear mwananchi,
clutching your Sh500 like manna from heaven, are the honoured guest.
How enlightened we are! In other nations, voters demand manifestos, track records and ideas. Here, we demand something small. Tuwachie kakitu. A bit of za macho. Because nothing says “future leader” like a man who can splash cash at a rally while his procurement scandals gather dust in court adjournments.
These are our best and brightest, the ones who studied economics yet somehow forgot how to balance a national budget. The lawyers who understand every loophole except the one called integrity. The businessmen whose net worth ballooned precisely during their years of public sacrifice.
Behold the genius! While the average Kenyan scrapes by on less than Sh20,000 a month in a country with GDP per capita hovering around $2,000 (Sh258,500), our leaders treat billions in dams that never get built, ghost projects and inflated contracts as personal venture capital.
They steal enough in one deal to fund an entire
village’s lifetime earnings, then return during campaign season to redistribute
a fraction of the loot. It is the perfect circle: loot the treasury, buy the
votes, loot some more. Sustainable development, elite style.
And when you dare complain, the armchair analysts, usually beneficiaries or aspirants themselves, hit you with the sacred mantra: “You don’t know how politics is done.” Translation: Shut up and take the money, raia. Real politics is not for idealists who read constitutions; it is for big boys with deep pockets, deeper connections and deeper manipulative wit. Politics is an investment, they say.
Quite right. They invest tens, if not hundreds, of millions to become MP, then recoup it tenfold through tenders within the first year. Excellent ROI. Your children’s future is the collateral.
The cynicism is almost admirable. These servants of the people laugh behind their tinted windows as you queue for handouts. They know the maths better than you; a few thousands today buys your dignity, your children’s classrooms, your hospital medicine and your voice for the next five years. One small note for one big theft. A fair exchange in the Republic of Short-Term Memory.
Yet here is the delicious satire we refuse to see. These pseudo-high achievers need you more than you need them. Without your vote, their PhDs, their fleets of German machines and their carefully cultivated images as wealth creators are worthless. They cannot loot alone. They require your enthusiastic participation in the ritual humiliation called Election Season.
So here is a modest proposal, my fellow sufferers. Next time a gleaming SUV rolls into your village and the honourable aspirant begins handing out notes, pause.
Ask yourself: If this man is such a high achiever, why does my life still look like this after 20 years of similar high achievers? If his education is so superior, why are our hospitals death traps and our schools crumbling? If his business acumen is legendary, why does he need public office to stay rich?
Take the Sh500 if the hunger is too loud; survival is not a crime. But do not confuse the transaction for loyalty. Take it, smile, then vote like your grandchildren are watching. They will remember the sacrifice you made for their future when you age.
Vote for the ones who refuse to play this game. Support the painful, boring, unsexy work of building institutions that make handouts unnecessary. Register. Turn up. Reject the brokers. Shame the power brokers and the overnight billionaires in equal measure.
Kenya does not lack educated people. It does not lack wealthy people. What it desperately lacks is citizens who refuse to sell tomorrow for today’s kakitu. The corrupt elite are not invincible; they are parasites who thrive only when the host is willing. Starve them of your blind allegiance.
The season
of cash and freebies is upon us again. Let it also be the season Kenya finally
laughs last, at the clowns who thought they could buy a nation one note at a
time. The ballot is mightier than the bribe. Use it like someone who remembers
that this country belongs to you, not to the highest bidder.
