Sometimes things are not what they seem to be, especially when they involve the mighty and powerful.
A poor man in the ghetto has no way of hiding their lives; they actually don’t even have a private life. Their one roomed house exposes all they have to any visitor knocking at their doors; and mark you the house is not enclosed but in a filthy city corner filled with other shanties.
The herder at Loyangalani and Loitoktok lives in a fence-less hut in the vast expanse of the Northern Kenya desert with the nearest police station at about 100 kilometres away. Cattle rustlers attack and kill several young Moran at their disposal and take to their heels with their long-time reared herds. Their hustles of moving so many miles to far off places in search of water and pasture for their livestock come to a sudden stop; and that ain’t news anyway!
Who cares when the poor son of a peasant struggles till he buys a motorcycle for bodaboda business; then he is hacked to death by his clients one night in the bushy, dark and winding road in the village filled with potholes, and his lifetime savings stolen? I guess the family members care and that is why they cry at their burials.
You walk in the streets of our towns and cities at night, and you will risk going home without your purse or wallet; plus some pain on your body after a short session of a physical encounter with criminal gangs. You board a matatu at night from town, when you arrive at your estate you are hacked to death by some idle youths who reap from where they did not sow and they walk away with your belongings.
Sometimes the same boys in the streets pay a courtesy call to your home and you have to part with a significant amount of money and property, or else gunshots will be heard by your neighbors; and am sure you won’t love that, or would you? When it is not your home, they can visit you at your shop, mama mboga kiosk or even at your Mpesa outlet.
This tells you that the common mwanachi in Kenya is faced with insecurity from all angles and there is nothing they can do about it. They can just hope and pray that they get to see the next day alive to continue hoping and praying for the next day again. And so our lives have been turned to that of prayers and hope each day and each moment. Lucky enough, the One above never closes his ears from his miserable creatures here on earth; safe He keeps us and we get to see that extra day we pray for.
As for our honorable Senator Wetangula, the case is complicated; different people have a different version of the same story. But I trust first-hand information from the eye witnesses more than rumors from the other public noise makers. And this is why Wetangula is safe; he has no scratch on his body, all he had with him during the incidence he still has and his car has no holes from a bullet shot except for scratches.
However, the government can do better in dealing with the security of a senior member of the society representing the interests of a large number of electorates.
Just for reminders, “mashabiki sisi ndo twaumia”; in this case we the electorates being in more danger of insecurity every day, and no one put it on the front page of the newspapers. And as the drama continues to unfold, just ask yourself; if it were you in that incidence, could it have been given such media attention?….#STAYSAFE!