A LETTER TO THE AFRICAN YOUTH (The Good, The Birds & The Outright Ugly)

Uuggrrhhh!!! Where do I start??? I am well aware that I neither have the insight nor the moral authority to summon and address you like I intend to today. But what I lack in insight and moral authority I make up for in audacity, the kind that’s akin to a mediocre white man applying for positions he is not qualified for confidently, optimistically and with hopes higher than what Kodaline sing about in that little song of theirs that I love to date. Hmmm it’ll never get old🎶.

I am one of you and maybe that gives me some sort of leeway to address you audaciously or maybe it doesn’t because you would rather a professor schooled in Harvard, with stacks of books and peer reviewed articles to his name. A professor who rubs shoulders with policy makers and has the ears and attention of those who matter, those whose decisions affect our lives ever so slightly.

A professor who dines with the who’s who in those expensive ballrooms that make a mockery of the rest of us, peasants watching from the sidelines unwelcomed and unwanted. Diners that leave a dent on our public coffers you’d think we all partook in the tomfoolery.

The bird news is that I am not that, at least not yet and the good news is that you might learn a thing or two from the little knowledge I have accumulated over the years. So please, indulge me just like you would that hypothetical professor.

I come in peace but with a heavy and burdened heart nonetheless. And maybe after reading my letter you’ll share the same sentiments given how we are both privy to the blatant and senseless plunder of our motherland.

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They are not one of us like they made us believe through well crafted PR and theatrics. We are not one of them, we never have been, we never will be. We don’t sit at the high tables when they divide their spoils (our spoils), instead we scramble at the feet of the tables, desperation on one hand, dejection on the other. After all our dear President once said “Wameze mate, sisi tukikula nyama.”

They rob us in broad day light so imagine what they do to us in the dead of night under the protection of darkness. Demon time, but they are the demons that keep us awake at 2 am wondering why we can’t seem to find jobs. Not even the 1 million annual jobs they promised us if only we’d hand over the baton to them. We kept our end of the bargain so why aren’t they keeping theirs??? Surely… isn’t the Social Contract more than just a theory propounded in the 17th and 18th century by Hobbes, Locke and Jacques???

Free primary healthcare for all Kenyans they said in their manifesto, the social contract we signed that was probably written by people like the professor who are completely out of touch with what really happens on the ground. Kwa ground vitu huwa different Mr. Professor sir!!!!

Free health care but you are wide awake in the wee hours of the night wondering why Kenyatta hospital, a hospital named after his father in poor taste won’t admit your mother, a stage 3 cancer patient unless and until you make that 1950 deposit, don’t even get me started on the subsequent fees.

Unable to do anything you are forced to watch the woman you love more than anything in this wretched world slowly withering away, deteriorating like a flower detached from the plant that gave it essence, nourished it and kept it alive. It’s funny how she gave you life but you can’t save hers.

Your mind wanders off to your neighbour, the young man who was killed by the police a few days ago. You thank God because you had made it home just on time that unforgettable night, otherwise it could have been you, lying cold on the floor of a public mortuary somewhere in this God forsaken country.

It’s that time of the year. I call it winter because of the cold and the overbearing rains. You hate rain and I don’t blame you because how could you possibly love those tiny water droplets that invade your privacy???? I mean every time it rains the rusted iron sheet that covers the shanty you call home leaks and the rain droplets find sanctuary in the comfort of your home.

Nothing about the life you’re living sounds like the freedom your forefathers fought so earnestly for. And to think that we as a nation lose a trillion shillings to corruption annually, you have every right to be angry. But the thing is you are not the only one inundated with anger, there is me and a million others. Imagine the power we wield as a collective!!!! Meet me half way why don’t you????

Maybe it’s time we set the birds free….. what say you????

I would tell you to listen to Tujiangalie by Sauti Sol ft Nyashinski but that would be obvious now wouldn’t it???