Silencing voice of youth on national issues choking country's future

An old man sitting can see far beyond what a young person perched at the top of a tree can. But what if the old man is blindfolded—blindfolded by greed and selfish ambition?

Blindfolds veil one from seeing others—all they are aware of is themselves. The cold old school insist on wearing them - they cannot handle power without blindfolds. Blind guides they are!

The world wonders why our leaders wear blindfolds in their global appearances. Then Adani answers, “To deal, they must forget the people and put themselves first.” To outmanoeuvre lethal Adanism, either our seers change or we change the seers.

We are better off trusting clear-sighted young people than blindfolded elders clutching a little book titled 1000 Blindfold Proverbs, a wisdom known to push countries into thick darkness.

Selfish leaders speak like patriots, but their actions reveal a private club where members are full of themselves. They show no emotion for citizens—only issue commands. These self-centred leaders have self-serving standards: they allow themselves to go morally wild while expecting citizens to follow their orders word for word.

The protester will be shot at, but the shooter is protected, even promoted. Mean leaders focus on big transactions, signing massive contracts in the name of power, then forcing poor Kenyans to pay the price.

As a result, Kenyans are left to live small, while the deal makers live large—very large. In living large they invade the mwananchi’s space, becoming kiosk landlords and small contract brokers. It's'stomachanization’ at its finest!

Egocentrism leads its harbourers to think of themselves as gods—the only time they show emotion is when they are not worshipped. They attend church to be seen - competing with God for attention, even desiring to be the last memory lingering in the minds of the congregation. But if you are truly humble before God, it is unlikely you will be proud before His people.

What have Kenya’s youth done to deserve such inhumane suppression from the government? Kenya’s youth love this country so much that the politicians hate them.

A crop of leaders seem to expect hymns of praise, to portray them as pure as wool. No wonder Kenya is proving difficult for UDA-ODM to govern, as they had an older Kenya in mind.

Citizens’ expectations have evolved in sophistication, yet our top leaders remain heroes of the ‘old school.’ It cannot only be about campaigning—leaders must also modernize their capacity to govern.

Winning an election is hard, but leading the people is even harder. You don’t lead simply because you’ve won an election; you lead because the people have won you over.

The growing intensity of public participation demands that every leader be open to correction. Pride fights opposing opinions, but wisdom anticipates criticism and even seeks it, to embrace what is valuable. Desiring continuous systemic disinfection and expressing it passionately should never be a crime. Silencing the voice of the youth is choking the country’s future.

There is a pervasive vagueness about Kenya’s direction—no one is clearly telling us where we are headed. People have no anchors for their hopes—they feel abandoned. ‘The Plan’ has collapsed.

Any other arrangement is merely an approximation of what it will take to achieve political survival. People are forced to create their own hope strategies and paths to progress.

People are swimming away from the bait and regrouping. They are now facing the harsh truth: they are on their own.

Public rejections of government contracts and initiatives are piling up. The explanations surrounding these transactions are unsatisfactory. And if not for the whistleblowers, the government wouldn’t have offered any explanation at all.

For the people, victory means these deals are reversed and dismissed. For the government, success means pushing them through. The people and the system are on two different paths.

Kenyan leaders propagate themselves at all costs, even using citizens as bait. Speechwriters for global conferences must impress, painting Kenya as a land of opportunity where “buyers” are welcome.

When foreign dealers arrive and the government faces scrutiny from its people, leaders rush to justify their decisions. They do not easily give up their deals, with disputes often ending in court. The priority is clear: protect the agreements, no matter the public outcry.

There’s a type of theft known as “daylight robbery”—the boldest and most brazen form. Then there’s “white lies,” the most absurd form of deception. What do they have in common? Both represent the peak of their respective arts, not mere actions but part of one’s nature.

The typical Kenyan politician is greedy by nature. Even when exposed, they persist in their daylight greed. Being caught in one lie does not stop them from telling another. Their capacity for deceit is on full display, shameless and fearless.

These are not amateurs, but masters in the scripture-condemned pursuit of selfish ambition. They break the commandment “Do not steal” as easily as snapping twigs—nothing stands between them and the loot. The words “Do not covet” do not curb their envy; they only sharpen it.

The system has only one allegiance—to itself. It is beholden only to its own survival. It pushes conversations that matter to it, telling the public why they must care, even when it is clear these issues hold no value for the average citizen.

Explanations surrounding government transactions are always unsatisfactory. If not for whistleblowers and public outcry, there would be no explanations at all. For the people, victory lies in seeing deals reversed and dismissed.

For the government, success is in pushing these deals through, even at high costs. The people and the system are on opposing paths. Without the favor of the people, there is no patriotic capital.

When a government lacks this vital connection, it has no free pass to lead and must instead resort to force, which is what we are witnessing through abductions and arbitrary arrests.

Fear and force drive an even greater wedge between the people and the system. The people swim against the current, no longer expecting good news. They learn to fight—not for things to get better, but for things not to get worse.

Their minds have shifted to the earliest opportunity to switch to new leadership. While it’s unclear who the next “horses” will be, the appetite for change is undeniable.