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Saturday, December 5, 2020

POISONERS OF OUR OWN DESSERT

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Kirubai Brian
Let's Talk Learning, unlearning, relearning bkirubai@jujamaica.com

It’s a chilly evening and I’m on my latest episode of writer’s block. I decide to take a walk and in all awkwardness find myself on a soccer pitch. The training session is about to begin and I grab a front-row seat alongside some elderly men. Prayers kick-start the evening’s events with the hope that the Almighty in all His many endeavors will foresee their safe conclusion.

The team then follows by running around the field five times. A feat my lungs totally disagree with. They then stretch their muscles before getting to play a game. I couldn’t help but notice a few players sneaking late into the session and not taking the laps. Lucky bastards. Teams are selected and both sides convene to plan how they would sink the other.

I see the little fellows in the teams being left out with a promise of inclusion in the second half. A promise more often than not, not lived up to. I see the coach taking commands from the very players he is supposed to command on which positions they play best. The game begins and I notice the referee is biased too. Little Archibald is kicked on the shin and is quickly waved off and told to toughen up while another is awarded a penalty even though he was offside. By now I’m livid and steaming at the inequality and disorder.

I overhear the “wazees” planning on how they’re going to bring in player X and Y for the upcoming tournament. They discuss recruiting a keeper despite there being four goalkeepers present during the session. The session is over and I decide to join in their little congregation and listen in.

Our leaders are the image we get to see on our moral, “democratic” mirror.

The players’ praise where due and rebuke likewise. The coach emphasizes self-care from the players as they approach the tournament and emphasizes that selection will be based on merit. Only if it was all true. I see the little ones beam with hope on the announcement by the coach, hopeful that their effort will be duly rewarded. I see the old men whom I sat alongside emphasize the coach’s words on hard work paying off. At this point I see only one thing, I see my beloved country Kenya at its truest niche.

I see a government lacking faith in its own manpower and having to outsource. I see political bigwigs committing crimes like child’s play and walking free. I see a youth promised a bigger tomorrow while being left out of the events of the moment only to be driven into depression by the harshness of reality. I see a predetermined outcome of the country that does not involve the decision of the people. Democracy is what more often than not they refer to it as.

I see that the face you see in the mirror is behind all our shortcomings as a country. We complain days on end about how we have a corrupt and rotten system and are quick to issue a blaming finger on our leadership. Oh! How sweet it is for your conscious going to bed knowing you’re not to blame for all this. Well bad news, you are to blame.

All we do is lie to ourselves because at the end, deep, deep down we are all rotten and corrupt. Looking for the shortest, fastest way to the top. Our leaders are the image we get to see on our moral, “democratic” mirror. All poisoners of our own dessert. With those woke enough to realize this engrossed selfishly in our own problems. Like in my writer’s block for instance.

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