The Kenya I Live In.

The Kenya I live in is not the Kenya our forefathers had in mind. The Kenya I live in is not the Kenya that I would want to bequeath my children and grandchildren. The Kenya I live in is a pale shadow of what any right thinking citizen would be proud of. Sadly, that is my Kenya and for now, it is what I will have to do with.

My country, Kenya, is full of political nonsense and socio-political injustices. In my Kenya, it is very acceptable to prejudice on another tribe which is not your own. In fact, it is only in Kenya where tribe forms the nucleus of any major decision that has to be made, be it national, personal, formal or even social. I have been taught that my tribe comes first. After my tribe, I can look to the west for ideals I feel at home with. My tribe, I have been taught, cannot be second. It cannot be inferior. Last time I brought home a girl from another tribe to my mother and she told me I might as well consider being a bachelor if marital decisions were too heavy for me. That is the Kenya I live in.

The Kenya I live in is so full of unfairness to the extent that we torch each other in order to express ourselves. We are told by the politicians that the post election violence was about resources. Then I ask myself what is wrong with my Kenya? I thought the politicians and their close cohorts had all the resources. I thought that the rich tycoons and the amorous fat cats of our society had all the wealth. Then how and why would I torch my neighbor for owning a quarter acre of land whereas I have a full acre? Then I remember that the Kenya I live in is replete with political manipulation that we have forgotten to chart our own paths. In my Kenya, independent thinking has become so burdensome and so arduous; we have to vote for politicians to think on our behalf. We vote them to tell us to torch our neighbours when they lose and we religiously follow them. Later on they tell us that it was about resources, or rather, unequal distribution of it. Sadly, that is the Kenya I live in.

In Kenya, it is normal to always politic and forget services. Our politicians started campaigning for 2012 in January 2008. In fact some of them wanted fraudulent results announced quickly so that they could start forming alliances for the next election. Some others promised a parallel government when they knew well that two governments cannot govern at the same time. They then asked the masses to go and be tear-gassed on their behalf. What absurdity! Leader-dependency syndrome is a disease like AIDS. It is terminal. No known scientist has gone to the lab to research on its cure. But why would they when it only exists in this Kenya I live in? The syndrome is caused by the leaders and it creates a state of perpetual dependence on the politicians. This helps them advance their self interest. They keep us forever hoping for they know that hope is stronger than love. Surely, the Kenya I live in can do better. But we are not yet ready. So for the time being, we will use what we have.

I wish our great grandfathers who traversed these lands before us would wake up and see what Kenya has become. They would definitely not identify or recognize their motherland. They would want to go back and sleep in peace from where they came from. But my fellow Kenyans would not care. They would tell the ancestors to mind their business. The social fabric that held together our forefathers is long gone. In place is the philosophy of every man for himself. We have lost the moral courage to rebuke a wrong. Instead, we hide in the shadow of liberalism and rights. When our men want to mount fellow men, we tell them that it’s ok since they don’t choose who they are. I wonder whether we are being honest with ourselves. I would certainly not enjoy seeing my father in bed with another man while my mother knits a sweater for our youngest sibling. But some of us think it is ok since it has not happened to their close associates. We think everything western is cool. Sadly, the Kenya I live in borrowed everything we experience today from the west-including poverty.

In Kenya are two sets of laws-actually the law is one but the interpretation is in variance with your social status. My Kenya does not know anything to do with equality in justice. A ghetto kid can earn up to three years for stealing a glance at the ‘mheshimiwa’. He will be charged with carrying himself in a manner likely to suggest intent to commit a crime. The same ‘mheshimiwa’ will be paid very colossal sums for stealing public funds. He will then call a press conference and laud the efficient wheels of justice this Kenya has. It is only in Kenya that the police kill, then go and come back to the scene of crime to collect evidence before they proceed with investigations. Investigations usually take a very short time like between thirty to ninety years. That is why prominent assassinations have been resolved so quickly. Dr. Ouko committed suicide by pouring acid on his dead body. Hon. JM Kariuki took himself to be eaten by the hyenas and vultures of Ngong hills. These beasts must have thought JM was playing tricks on them so they kept away. Thomas Mboya must have been a victim of a stray police bullet. These stray bullets are so notorious. They even sneak into our living rooms and nip our young lives in the bud. But we will always trust our police force to carry out competent investigations. Where else would you find a police drugging himself silly as his colleagues take off with the loot?

The Kenya I live in cannot be said to be safe for our mothers and sisters-especially the girl-child. How else would you describe a man finding pleasure in going to bed with his three year old daughter? My fellow men have certainly gone crazy! And last time I checked, Mathare was filled to capacity. I wonder which mental institution these men can be taken to. The Kenya I live in has seen girls being molested it is no longer news. You find step fathers sleeping with their daughters by day and with the mother at night. It all seems ok and normal. You find men mounting beasts, or young girls who are still too young to say “sasa” with ease and confidence. You find grannies too old to even move being forcefully raped. At night we terrorize girls, women and the aged. During the day, we proclaim the heavens at the pulpit. Where else should I go yet the Kenya I live in has made all these to look ok?

My Kenya has seen corruption develop from nascent stages to a full blown institution. Corruption has its headquarters with staff being recruited with so much abandon. Today the institution boasts almost thirty million members. But the institution of corruption is so funny. Its members enjoy the art of finger pointing. And in most cases we point them at the boys in blue. Yet we are all guilty. How many times have we secured jobs for our undeserving relatives and friends and locked out qualified candidates? How many times have we bribed the immigration officer to hasten things since we procrastinated filing our applications? How often do we prod the driver to pay the man in blue just because we don’t want to be late? How often have we bribed our sons and daughters’ ways to the best schools? And don’t we journalists demand payments before we can publish some stories? At this rate, what is remaining is to make corruption an examinable subject. I would not be surprise since I have seen better days in Kenya. Money has become the yardstick for measuring success. Even churches demand it before your sins can be forgiven.

Class stratification is not alien to us either. Our poor are busy fighting for hope that they hardly have time to eke out a living. The middleclass are busy trying to secure their lot. They are not sure about tomorrow. Therefore, they come cheap and can be easily bought. The rich and super rich are busy amassing wealth that they don’t need. Churches are mushrooming every day in competition for the extra coin that the common man can spare. Religious divisions are common fodder for our congested minds. Everybody wants to be the leader and take all the credit.

I have been many places, but it is only in Kenya that fare can go up in a matter of seconds. Exploitation is the norm and victims happily oblige. Where else would you find people pay double fare only to be squeezed in the vehicles? Road carnage is as frequent as drought is in the northern regions of Kenya.

My Kenya has no concern for environmental conservation. When you plant a tree, they stealthily come at night to cut it down. And they then later sell you the same tree that you planted. In Kenya it is very ok to settle down in the forest and threaten the livelihoods of millions of people dependent on it. At the back of our minds, we know that our tribal chiefs will chest thump on our behalf. They dangle our votes as the killer punch for any person who proves defiant. It is only in Kenya where leaders lead from the back. They enjoy the posterior views of their subjects. But I hope that will soon change when Obama finally decides to come back home for good.

The Kenya I live in is so full of ironies. I am however glad that someone has decide to come to my rescue. If I ‘simama’ like a youth in ‘Kenya’ then I can benefit. So long as I don’t attempt to vie for a seat somewhere in ‘mkoa wa kati’. That seat is still reserved for the person who has been sitting on it for the last thirty or so years. These ironies can be funny. A good friend of the powers that be told the carpenters to take back their coffin since he was going to live now that he was not resigning. Twenty four hours later he resigned. But he did not remember to invite the coffin makers for measurements. Another waited till he could get his final paycheck before hitting the road. Earlier, he had told us that only a harambee could raise the required amount to publish an article in the newspapers.

It is only the Kenya I live in that can import security forces to take care of our waters while our very own form alliances with dubious characters to terrorize ‘wananchi’. While the imported security officers terrorize Kenyans in their own land, our own security forces are busy belching out blood money and passing wind in their lavish uptown offices. They barely know that we are in possession of a certain percentage of water in the Victoria. This water, I am told, comes with certain goodies like islands, fish and guns from neighboring countries.

Cheating is a vice that has been there since time. But Kenya is taking cheating to the next level. In Kenya it would be safe to assume that cheating is a national social past time, just like siesta is in Spain. We have become an official cheating nation. Wives cheating on husbands, husbands cheating on wives. You find leaders cheating in the elections and every other day of their waking lives. Today, they are fronting ethnic alliances; tomorrow they castigate the media for misquoting them. Candidates’ young minds are going into overdrive trying to figure new and modern ways of cheating in exams. You find businessmen cheating customers, spiritual leaders cheating the masses, young kids lying to parents at home and all other forms of the vice.

The Kenya I live in is what I have known all my life. Now that the politicians will not give me the Kenya I want, I will strive to make sure that I am at least happy with the Kenya I live in. But before that can happen, I have set some certain minimum standards.

The Kenya I live in should be for all regardless of race, tribe, gender or religion. The Kenya I live in is enough for all the forty two tribes. The Kenya I live in should not hold one tribe superior to the other. In the Kenya I live in, I should marry who I want without regarding tribe, race or religion.

My Kenya should be a country of promising leadership. We are the machinery for voting out bad leaders. We need not be manipulated aimlessly if we want a better Kenya to live in.

I want to see the Kenya I live in progress in terms of enforcing laws that protect the girl-child and our women. The vulnerable groups and children need special attention and laws that cushion them from deviants need to be thought.

We need a Kenya with a vibrant public service. Police and thieves should not even attempt to think friendship. They should not compete for blood in the streets. We need a servant leadership kind of culture if we are to move forward.

The leader-dependent syndrome should be a thing of the past. Citizens should be encouraged about the value of honest toil. The culture of handouts needs to be abandoned and replaced with issue-based politics and development oriented engagements. The Kenya I live in should shun all forms of violence. Violence is not a language that it should be used to express feelings and emotions. Violence only begets violence and leaders who fan violence should immediately be prosecuted.

I want a Kenya that can dispense justice in equal measure. The Kenya I want to live in should not hold to sets of justice systems. The rich need to understand that undermining the set legal systems only results in resentment. The Kenya I want should make sure that the price to pay for justice is honesty and integrity.

I want a Kenya that rewards merit and honest work. I want a Kenya that shuns nepotism and favoritism. I want a Kenya that gives equal opportunity for all. The Kenya I live in should not hand over more to the haves and neglect the have-nots.

I want a Kenya that has respect for mother earth. Environmental concerns need to be addressed soberly and leaders need to lead from the front. I want a Kenya that gives the youth opportunities to shine and reward efforts.

I want a Kenya that glorifies sex less on the airwaves. The Kenya I live in should promote acceptable social values and good decorum amongst its members.

My mother Kenya has vast resources enough for us all. All we need is equity in its distribution. I want to see a Kenya that values all its citizens equally. The Kenya I live in still has people dying of hunger. The Kenya I want should start the journey towards eradicating hunger in the next few years.

All in all, the Kenya I live in should feel like home.