Parliament’s Fall: Where Are the Real Answers?
How far has this parliament fallen? You see it every time they drag Gachagua back to your screen, as if he fuels every protest. But stop. Ask yourself: was Gachagua in Nakuru stapling posters? Did he appear in every tear-gassed crowd? Did he walk the dusty streets with the youth? No. He became their convenient distraction—a political shield for MPs running from their own failures.
These same MPs who condemned him now push microphones in his direction, day after day. They ask, “How did Gachagua trigger Gen Z protests?” as if he inflated bread prices, blocked housing dreams, or drained family budgets. You already know the truth: the real enemy is the cost of living. And they never talk about that.
Gen Z Protests: It Was Never About Gachagua
Bread is unaffordable. Petrol swallows salaries. Rent is impossible. School fees bury families in debt. But when MPs meet, they skip these urgent issues. They circle back to Gachagua—because it’s safer. Easier. But survival is not symbolism. Daily suffering doesn’t need a mascot.
Kenya’s Political Chameleons: The Case of Junet
Remember Junet? He once shouted Ruto down, calling him a thief and a snake. Now he praises Ruto’s leadership like nothing happened. You see the switch. You hear the new grammar: “Our clean president.” Loyalty, sold cheap. Speeches, erased like chalk in the rain.
Why? Because Raila Odinga’s cabinet now stands beside Ruto. And when you shake hands with power, your sins vanish. Criticism melts. Junet learned fast.
Parliament Has Forgotten You
Power in Kenya today smells like stale perfume and leather seats. MPs chase allowances while clinics close. Nurses walk out. Students read by candlelight. Families pick between food and school fees. You see it. You live it.
But instead of addressing this, parliament spends hours blaming Gachagua—like he alone pulled the match that lit the streets on fire.
The fear is real. They fear one man speaking. They’d rather chase headlines than lower prices. They scream “peace” like it will pay your bills. But hospitals still lock doors. Roads still disappear into potholes. You still can’t afford cooking gas.
The TikTok Generation Doesn’t Forget
They think turning off the screens will silence you. They don’t understand. This is not a show. This is your life. TikTok videos of riot victims go viral whether hashtags are banned or not. Block the news? Kenyans will watch underground. This isn’t gossip. This is grief.
And now, whispers grow louder: “Remember Sri Lanka?” A palace swallowed by public anger. A government thrown out. You’ve seen it. You’ve thought about it. Could Kenya be next?
The Collapse Has Already Begun
You see it in abandoned campaign posters. In empty stadiums. In voters who stay home. The bridge between citizens and state? It’s already rubble.
If Gachagua’s removal was the solution, why not impeach them all? Why not purge every official who’s failed the people? The rot runs deep. It hides in fake tenders, ghost workers, collapsing classrooms, leaking hospitals.
Parliament debates Gachagua, but they can’t tell you why unga costs so much. Why fuel is out of reach. Why jobs have vanished. They can’t. So they talk about him instead.
The Revolution Is Local
Change won’t come from hashtags or press conferences. It will come from you. From the woman in Busia cooking beans because maize is too expensive. From boda riders in Kisumu who can’t clear loans. From students in Kibra studying by flashlight because power’s out.
This is not a protest. It’s a break-up. Kenyans are walking away from leaders who offer only titles and no solutions. You see it in markets. In schools. In your own street.
If scapegoating Gachagua fixes nothing, why waste time? Focus on the real work. Watch the leaders who don’t come from political dynasties. Who don’t show up on TV. Who don’t wear suits.
They exist. You’ve met them at boreholes, at markets, at bus stages. They solve problems quietly. They know your life because they live your life.
The Real Movement: “WantAmNotAm”
This is your movement. “WantAmNotAm” is not a slogan. It’s a decision. You want what works—not another recycled face in the same broken system.
No speeches. No banners. Just people showing up. Demanding service. Demanding repayment for stolen years. Not applause. Just accountability.
They can chase Gachagua all they want. Label him anything—monster, martyr—it changes nothing. They think you’re watching. You’ve stopped. You don’t care. You’ve already moved.
The Ground Is Shifting
Look around. Dagoretti’s homes are emptying. Ol Kalou’s markets are boiling with frustration. Kiambu’s schools whisper of unpaid fees. Middle-class commuters drop plates because lunch costs Ksh 200 too much. Students drop out. Nurses walk out. Rent is due. Electricity is out. Jobs are gone.
The system is collapsing under its own noise.
Every minute wasted on blame is a minute of momentum lost. You’ve been silent long enough. You’ve turned off the news. You’ve walked past the press conferences.
Stop waiting for permission.
Start building.
Show up where they don’t. Work where they won’t. Move without slogans. Build without applause. Let your results speak.
Gachagua is loud. You don’t need to be.
Move quietly.
Build relentlessly.
When schools open. When water flows. When jobs return. When roads are fixed. When electricity stays on. When farmers access credit. When honesty feels fresh again—the media will scramble, asking: “How did this happen?”
The answer will be simple: Kenyans showed up.
Silently. Daily. Without waiting.
Let them keep chasing Gachagua. Let them build their prisons with noise. You have work to do.
Light your match.
Illuminate.
Then build.
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