The after march
The recently concluded elections or imitation thereof have left me with a great insight into the natures of colleagues, acquaintances and ‘virtual’ friends deepest darkest secrets. Thoughts they harbour but would never admit prior to the event. My skepticism / cynicism of human nature has been vindicated.
Still waters run deep and silence is defeat (yet conceded). The masses are digesting the realities so deviously served. Fools, is what they feel like. Second-grade citizens with no voice since voting is velintroquy in the bag of ‘politricks’ (many tricks/ tricking many) as my Rastafarian guide prefers to name politics. ‘Trick’ is inner city American slang for a female tease, a whore or one who patronizes prostitutes, go figure. The negative connotations aside, politics is defined as the “science and art of government”.
Shut up already, we are hypnotised. Peace, we get it; got you loud and clear the last 90 days and still counting. I suggested a reward for my good behaviour; Throw in an invite to the swearing-in ceremony. My erstwhile friends politely inform me that it is a private affair for close friends and family, apparently it is a coronation. They say even my name is wrong!
“Come on you are taking this thing too seriously”, I attempt a rational approach. I broach the subject of reconciliation and moving beyond the said historical injustices. It is easy for me to say is the bitter rebuttal. “There are 42 tribes…” (I can’t vouch for the assertion) but the interjection comes swiftly, “the ‘4’ is silent!” Quentin Tarantino makes a cameo on race relations even in Africa.
Wealth distribution; is it that we don’t understand capitalism and therefore see a saviour in the-Raila-Amolo-Odingas and their social economics patronising our ‘hand-out mentality’? Mitt Romney’s 47% in bed with Jomo Kenyatta’s ‘hakuna cha bure’! (Nothing for free!) I shake my head – what do these people want? Silence is defeat…
In silence they connect the dots enumerating various heads and their ethnicities. They lay out the perceived plot. ‘ sijaenda chuo lakini sisi si wajinga!’ (we are uneducated but not stupid!) drowns out the mantra ‘best-man-for-the-job’ and ‘aren’t they qualified?’ They won’t hear my logic and want nothing of it. However, the elevated ‘twitterati’; some though, with varying degrees of sincerity espouse ‘tribeAll’. This is a travesty of truth to the neutral observer. It comes out more of a monologue to placate the conscience than a genuine effort at unity. Silence
They whimper throwing pebbles about absent-mindedly. Economic empowerment is the secret word. This is their great plan; if you can’t beat them join them – by-any-means-necessary is the strategy. There is a war going on! Step off your high horse and watch the wretched of the earth, ‘ma-sufferer’, ants, ‘soldiers’ launch a seemingly hapless assault and laugh at the futility. They have decided in some estates to boycott certain kiosks. Businesses have been quietly discontinued while in some areas employment has ceased unceremoniously or continued with a sense of persecution.
‘Usione tumenyamaza, tunaumia!’ (We are quiet but we are hurting!) a porter who meets my brother at a bus stage finding someone to unburden himself to piteously speaks. My brother is the image of beauty – females call it the trinity – tall, dark, handsome. Well groomed and an immaculate dresser; an uncle calls him ‘son of Amerika’. He listens,’ unajua nyinyi watu wa ofisi hamwezi kuihisi. Sisi watu wa chini ndio tunaisikia. Kila siku… (You office people can’t feel it. We the downtrodden really suffer. Every day…)
Little men, right? They really took it to heart. What does this have to do with you or me or God forbid *mock horror* IEBC? Everything will return to normal and it will be business-as-usual.
Contemplation; Speech is silver and silence is golden, in the dawn of ‘our’ jubilee year as an independent country the latter is at a premium. We extol the virtues of youth and the generational coup in leadership. Sing the national anthem proudly and wisely mute ‘justice be our shield and defender’ as we go ahead to loudly proclaim ‘may we dwell in unity, peace and liberty!’ Silence is defeat.
‘Speak now or forever hold your piss!’ is a rather anti-climactic way to end this piece.
Ladies and gentlemen (assuming you are or aspire to be), the after math of the after march… debacle, is silence. Presuming silence is a weapon; its effectiveness, I offer, is pegged on the nature of relationship of the protagonists. What has love got to do with it? Beats me – why do You keep silent: is it fear, shame, loss, punishment, disgust, anger, defeat…