We thought independence would set us free. Flags were raised, anthems were sung, and hope filled the air. The promise was schools for every child, hospitals for every family, and dignity for every worker. Decades later, that dream feels like a lie. Walk through the streets, villages, towns, and you will see the truth. Poverty has become ordinary. Hospitals are death traps. Schools are collapsing. Civil servants who hold the country together earn salaries that cannot feed a family. And at the top sit politicians who never even finished school, taking home millions every month. If this is not theft sanctified by law, then what else can it be called?
We line up at polling stations every election. We cast votes. We argue about parties and tribes. We fight on social media. Then the cycle repeats. A few rise into power, and the rest sink deeper into poverty. Politicians grow richer. We remain trapped. This is not democracy. It is a performance staged to keep us busy while they plunder.
What hurts most is how bold they have become. They steal in daylight. They flaunt convoys and mansions on Instagram. They build hotels with stolen money. They know nothing will happen. They know we will complain, but not act. They know the police will protect them, not us. They know the courts will drag cases for decades. They know we will move on, because we always do.
Still, cracks have begun to show. Gen Z refused silence. Young Kenyans filled the streets of Nairobi, Kisumu, Eldoret, Mombasa, Nakuru. They organized online. They spoke with one voice. They demanded better schools, working hospitals, fair pay, accountability. They carried placards, sang songs, shouted in unison. They faced teargas, water cannons, and bullets. They refused to be silenced. They stood when churches bowed. They stood when elders whispered about peace instead of justice.
This energy is proof that WE are not powerless. But it also showed how isolated youth were. The institutions that should have stood with them—elders, religious leaders, unions—stayed away. Some even condemned them. That betrayal cannot be forgotten. Yet the protests lit a fire. A fire that waits.
Look at our hospitals. Patients are told to buy their own drugs. Families sleep on the floor beside beds because wards are overcrowded. Machines sit broken for years. Doctors strike because they are paid late or not at all. Nurses juggle three jobs to survive. Meanwhile, politicians fly to Dubai, London, and India for treatment, all paid by the same taxes that are supposed to fund public hospitals.
Look at our schools. Children sit under trees because classrooms collapsed. Teachers buy chalk from their own pockets. In some schools, students share one textbook among six. Politicians send their children abroad or to private academies, then stand in parliament promising reforms they never intend to deliver.
Look at civil servants. They keep Kenya running. Clerks process documents. Police officers patrol. Health workers treat patients. Teachers raise generations. Engineers design roads. Without them, nothing functions. Yet they are treated like beggars. Salaries are delayed. Promotions frozen. Dignity denied. And still, they show up. Day after day.
Meanwhile, politicians treat public money like their inheritance. They raise their own salaries. They inflate tenders. They travel the world in business class. They create ghost projects, then award contracts to friends and cronies. From Goldenberg to Anglo-Leasing, from Eurobond to COVID-19 billions, from dam scandals to housing funds, the story repeats. Every year, new names, new numbers. Billions vanish, no one punished. Files disappear, courts stall, suspects laugh.
And WE watch. WE tweet. WE complain. Then WE move on.
We must stop pretending this is normal. Kenya is not poor. Kenya is robbed. The money is there. It is simply stolen before it reaches us. Our taxes build mansions, not classrooms. Our sweat pays for motorcades, not hospital beds. Our votes fund holidays for politicians, not salaries for nurses.
Revolution is the only answer. Not chaos in the streets. Not guns. Not blood. Revolution means refusal. Refusal to take bribes during campaigns. Refusal to clap at rallies. Refusal to let thieves divide us by tribe. Refusal to reelect liars. Refusal to bow before the same criminals who destroyed our future.
Revolution means unity. Saying no together. Demanding dignity together. Teachers, nurses, engineers, clerks, boda riders, students, farmers—standing as one. They cannot ignore us all. They cannot buy us all. They cannot shoot us all.
WE must demand schools that prepare our children, not break them. Schools with books, desks, and teachers who are paid enough to teach with dignity. WE must demand hospitals that heal, not kill. Hospitals with medicine, working machines, and doctors who stay in Kenya because they are valued. WE must demand salaries that match the work of civil servants who keep the nation alive. WE must demand accountability, not excuses.
Enough is enough. Fifty million Kenyans cannot remain in poverty while a handful of billionaires grow fatter on stolen wealth. WE cannot allow another fifty years to be wasted. WE cannot sit and hope for miracles. WE cannot pray corruption away. WE cannot beg for dignity. WE must take it.
This is not about waiting for another election. Elections have never saved us. They recycle thieves. They recycle lies. They recycle misery. Change will not come from ballot boxes. Change will come when WE stand together and refuse to accept crumbs.
Kenya is ready for a fresh start. Not tomorrow. Not after another manifesto. Not after another promise. Now. This is the moment to reset. To tear apart the culture of silence. To end the worship of thieves. To reclaim the nation WE were promised.
The truth is simple: no one will save us but ourselves. No foreign country, no donor, no NGO, no politician. Only WE can stop this plunder. Only WE can demand justice. Only WE can force dignity into our schools, hospitals, and workplaces.
Fifty years was enough. Another fifty cannot be wasted. The time is now. The responsibility is ours. WE must rise, together.
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