They have always assured us our governments are
pregnant with hope, hope to deliver Africa from the clutches of poverty and
post-colonial oppression. We have been led into the wilderness by individuals
whose faces we’ve never seen. We have seen many self-proclaimed Moseses who
have promised us milk and honey, milk without cows, honey without bees and like
some brainless zombies, we have believed their lies like any good student does.
We claim we are learning but how many years should we spend in school to know
that we are going to the dogs? At this rate, we would graduate when everything
is lost and everybody is too dead to come to our graduation ceremonies. Yes i
agree we are a pregnant nation, but the last time the midwife checked, there
was no foetus. It was a phantom pregnancy. Don’t await a bundle of joy for you’ll
be disappointed. There is no bundle, there is no joy. Let them not lie to us, We
are on our own
Chapter nine Let me tell you about something that happened to me during the past rainy season that still sends shivers down my spine up till today. It was during the short rain seasons where the water would form rivulets and roll down the lonely path to the shopping centre. It wasn’t really a big place, just a boring place with a shop they called ‘chamchi-tugul’ meaning love y’all in Kalenjin, a poshomill, a small barber shop where we always cried when our parents sent us to pay him a visit and a small house always under lock and key where we always peeped with a hope of discovering loads of money locked in, little did we know that it was the barber’s store room. The rainy season though never stopped us from playing our football games, shirtless of course. We played without our shirts, not because it was fun that way but just because some of us had only the one. We were two goals ahead, all credit to me for stopping the ball with my face twice though I almost went blind in one a...
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