This is the last Saturday of the year of our Lord 2024. If you made it this far without pressing a boil against your seat, you may need to order yourself another bottle of your favourite drink and thank yourself for believing in you.
It is the least of self-healing actions you owe to yourself after successfully punching yourself out of the crocodile’s mouth for the better part of this year. Twenty-twenty-four is the calendar year no Kenyan would love to associate with unless you’re among the drivers of the fleet of Subaru cars plucking Kenyans off the streets and having fun at the misery of their distraught loved ones.
Wise men and women who went before us have been writing in historical texts that a time will come when barely breathing will be considered a revolutionary act worthy of a Nobel. Instead of finding the hidden meaning in their astrological foresight, we have been busy preoccupying ourselves with conducting a search on the potency of the hard drugs they may have been sniffing at before going into that hallucinating trance.
Never did it occur to us that the year 2024 would be the epiphany year. We apologize to all grey-haired hominids who have ever come close to resembling a Zen monk. We are sorry. Please come back and teach us with love.
There was a time when the conditions in this country was tough but livable. School fees would be settled by a firm handshake between the principal and the parent because promises were kept and the parents’ word was their bond. In those days, village milk vendors would routinely ignore expert advice and trust their patrons with their milk deliveries on credit – the client would checkoff the standing order first thing when his bank account started smiling again. Trust was the name of the business game because money was enough to go around and there was something for everyone.
This year, not only has money been visiting only those who wake up on the right side of the bed each morning, but it does so in droplets not enough to fill a drum of hope. Those who’ve had success at serenading money have been grating our ears that someone might have been abducting money on its way back to their pockets and the DCI may need to broaden their network to include injustice to the only thing that can buy happiness. When money is depressed and it cannot speak to us clearly, there is a direct correlation with the general mood of those praying for it, as was witnessed by the rage that visited Parliament Buildings on June 25th.
When money is happy it will show in the faces of everyone in the hood. Even the highway patrol police raising their hands up like they did in primary school do not have a hard time convincing long-haul truck drivers to trust them with its custody. In some instances, the traffic police on duty will even find the money already on the ground by the time the trucks slow down to say hallo.
When money is jolly, everyone goes back home in the evening happy at their contribution to their country for that particular day. For 2024 years after the death of Christ, those who study the Milky Way have been lying to us that the earth rotates around the sun. We now know that had it not been for money, the Earth would have been rusty on the exact spot it was when it received its last MPESA text message.
Which is why this year Kenyans have been gloomy, enraged and weather-beaten. Every time they turned on their news sources, all they could hear was another unsolicited news of the government planning to put a knife on their throats to bleed the last drop of red cells they have remaining in their blood.
You can pull out your stats book and point to the positive news from those who studied economics all you want, but for as long as money is still on the road struggling to find its way back to people’s pockets, you would be wise to say less and rush to the scene and offer first aid services.
There is a worry going into the New Year that if the turnaround does not happen fast enough, the relief promised by the government might come a little too late to harden the hearts of those still having the benefit of doubt. No one knows how this will end.
Did anyone ever return to check on the evacuated villagers in Mai Mahiu after that tragic nightlong wipeout from a broken railway embankment in April? Losing northwards of 50 Kenyans from a manmade disaster is not only unforgivable but also reprehensible.
It is understandable that 2024 was unkind to all of us in so many ways, but it would be tragic if we lost our moral North Star that guided us back to commiserating with the downtrodden in society, especially in their most hour of need. Let 2025 be the year we rediscover our humanity as a country and desist from turning the screw on those we may have ideological differences with on account of gaining back lost emotional ground while losing our souls in the process.
Kenyans may not be perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but we have in us this natural desire for the achievement of self-actualisation. With a little ruthless focus and the spreading of warmth around us, this country has the potential to be great, even surpassing those we looked up to when we adopted their language and currency.
We sit on tons of untapped natural and manmade resources, given to us by providence for generations to find value to the betterment of the broader pool in whose authority we hold the responsibility in trust. May 2025 be the year we extend a little grace to one another, reach out to those who are hurting within our spheres of influence, and return Kenya to the body of Christ.
I leave you with the immortal words of Beres Hammond; “Heaven help the black man with his back against the wall. Heaven help the white man whose kingdom is about to fall. Heaven help us all.”
