What next, Kenya?

My country, tell me, where shall i hide my face? In Tanzania? No, some high-profile man already sneaked in and polluted the environment. In Uganda? No thanks. There an old dog still sits at the gate watching and waiting. Shall i go to some offshore island and fit in with the people? Uhm, the thieves stashed their Eurobond loots somewhere there. When i look to my left, i see a half-tarmarcked road, money ran out. On my right, a farmer is sifting grains between his fingers, his face a mask of sorrow. The cereals board already have enough yet ten lorries belonging to the area MP pass by on the way there thrice a week. The woman in the market laments day and night about the sky-rocketing price of onions, of the poor education quality in school despite the exorbitant fees. In my country everybody is being brought up and taught to be a good thief, to steal without leaving traces, to rob, kill and maim as long as you can grease the wheels of (mis)justice. What next, Kenya? Should we obediently carry the yokes of neo-colonial slavery? Should we still bear the burdens of sin, a sin we did not commit? What is there to look forward to? The news has become like a horror film, you watch with dread as the headlines pass across the screen:

Theft at Three A.M

Youth Fund

Airport Terminus

For how long will we live this kind of life? How long will they divert our attention by translating soap operas for the love-struck women to gape at? By providing Nigerian films for the house-maids to weep through the plastic action and empty sex? How long shall we keep shelving our problems and letting our children pay for the money we stole? You give us hope that oil is being dredged. What oil are you talking about? The oil that will get my child killed in twenty years as you the hyenas scramble for land in Turkana? The oil that will change hands among the multi-nationals and fat political hands, that by the time it reaches the common mwananchi it is in form of vehicle fumes? What gas are you talking about? The only gas we know is that we pass after a heavy meal of empty promises and the burps of misplaced political opinions. What next Kenya? After they’ve stole our lands and buildings, they shall come for your daughters and sons. They shall take them to dig the soils they stole. They shall take your men and women to Turkana to massage them with oils from the virgin wells. When your sons come back, their tongues shall be heavy with lies from the adulterated knowledge spoon-fed to them. They shall no longer be the sons of the land, but rather senior thieves to sire younger thieves to ensure the flow of ‘thuggery’ doesn’t end with them. Your intellectual virgins will become prostitute of deceitful and misplaced knowledge.

Kenya is no longer going to the dogs, the dogs have come to us. They have come biting, nipping and barking at our doorsteps. Dogs with mouth foaming, teeth, nay fangs glaring. Dogs with tongues salivating, hungry for action, mad rabid dogs. We don’t have to wait long for our death. It is here, i think Karma always wins. And she is already winning. I quit on you my motherland.

                                                       Your illegitimate child.