THE ELIGATARIAN POST

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Spirit, Today, I write this letter with a heavy heart and fiery resolve, addressing you, our fallen heroes, our brave comrades, who have been silenced by a brutal, barbaric regime that spares no mercy and cares not for the sacred call of justice.  I write in your memory, to honor your sacrifice, and to vow that your blood was not spilled in vain. We live in a time where the forces of oppression have not only taken our beloved from us but have tainted the very soul of our nation. A regime so heartless and remorseless that it drains our country’s coffers, abducts our children, and murders our future, all in the name of greed and power.  They speak of order, yet they sow chaos claiming to guard the state, yet they trample on the rights of the people. They struggle to silence voices that dare to speak against injustice, and now, in their venomous rhetoric, they say we have lost our humanity. That we are unfeeling, indifferent, and detached from the s...

  You walk into the grand house of a politician, one of those MPs who just got a new “sitting allowance” for the parliamentary session that barely lasted two hours. The man or woman is comfortably sprawled on an expensive leather chair, sipping on some champagne they didn’t even know was made in Kenya. There’s a pile of crisp notes next to them, possibly stolen from a tender for some “unnecessary” project in a remote village that will never see the light of day.  Meanwhile, you, yes, you, the mwananchi, are probably seated on a plastic chair in a room with a roof that leaks when it rains. If you have a job, it’s probably at the local kiosk, where your pay can’t even cover the price of the gas needed to get to work, much less your children’s school fees. If you’re lucky enough to have access to a public hospital, you might spend the day in a queue that’s longer than the hours it’ll take to get that life-saving treatment. Now, if you step outside, you’ll see roads that don’t lea...