I have never been to Singapore, and I don’t know what it looks like—but I want to make Mwisho wa Lami look like Singapore
For years, I have had a dream of joining politics. And when I say joining politics, I do not mean shouting on WhatsApp groups or arguing loudly at the shopping centre. I mean joining politics properly—by getting elected to an existing political office.
I say this confidently because, honestly, you cannot be a deputy head or a head of an institution for as long as I have been without already being a politician. That job alone is politics on steroids. Managing teachers is not a joke—especially when your staffroom contains characters like Kwame and Saphire, who wake up every morning ready for fresh drama. Then you add a deputy like Lena, and Nzomo, who is more in Nuunguni than in Mwisho wa Lami. On top of that, you must deal with the TSC office, including a lady Sub-County Director of Education who likes how I dress but has—unfortunately—failed to remove me from the classroom.
And those are just the adults.
Students from Mwisho wa Lami are a special breed. Very special. Then you add parents like Tito, Nyayo, his wife Anindo, and grandparents such as Hitler, Rasto, and Alphayo—and others too many to mention. At that point, you stop being a teacher and become a full-time negotiator.
At home, matters are not any easier. There is my father, Caleb, who has never seen anything good in me. My big sister Yunia, who considers me a source of recurring revenue. Then there is Caro—Mwisho wa Lami’s immediate former Cabinet Secretary for Miscommunication, Misinformation, and Broadcasting Lies. And my small brother Ford, a prison warden, who somehow graduated from being a person of interest and was recently transferred from Kitui Prison to Ruiru Prison.
We have not even talked about Catherine, the mother of Brandon—a boy who is not my son but whom I adopted as part of my corporate social responsibility to the world. Managing all these relationships and still remaining ahead of the game requires a certain level of political sophistication. Very few people have it. By luck—or suffering—I do.
Real politics
So when I say I want to enter politics, I mean real politics—getting elected in the next General Election. And I am talking about a real seat, not chairperson of a funeral committee. There is no doubt that I have the potential. I also have support. If that were not the case, I would not be the President of the Mwisho wa Lami Young Teachers Consortium, an official in the local Teachers’ SACCO, Secretary of the Mwisho wa Lami Boda Boda Association and an influential figure in KNUT and even KUPPET elections.
I have also been deeply involved in campaigns for both the MCA and MP seats in this area. That alone shows I have political blood in me—blood that I should probably put to proper use.
Yes, the candidates I supported in 2022 all lost. But let us be honest: they did not follow the strategy I gave them. Others were in the wrong parties. I knew they would lose even before the ballot boxes arrived.
In fact, many people told me openly:
“Andrew, we love you, but we didn’t like your candidate or their party. We wish it was you standing.”
That statement stayed with me.
That is not all. Whenever a funeral occurs or a wedding is held, I am usually the default chairman of the organising committee or the designated MC of the event. You cannot do all that without some form of political persuasion. Did I mention that I am an admin of many WhatsApp groups? From family, to school, to teachers groups, to a general one including our school alumni group. Trust me, you cannot be a WhatsApp Admin if you are not respected, and if people do not like you. If you remember, back in campus days, I once ran one of the most engaging and active campaigns at KU for a KUSA seat—only to lose by a landslide. I had planned to contest in 2022, but things got mixed up. By the time I was ready to submit my papers, I was informed—very politely—that I was time-barred, having failed to resign early enough.
Lesson learned.
Recently, following my accidental role in the Gen Z Cup, where I inadvertently ensured that Green Commandoes—a team supported by people from Mwisho wa Lami Ward—did not meet Here We Come in the finals, I gained unexpected political mileage. People called me. They congratulated me. They praised my neutrality, independence, and fairness—while putting my ward first.
“We need people like you in leadership,” said Hitler, after Green Commandoes won the cup.
“We would not have won if Andrew had not been the referee.”
For the first time, many people said it clearly:
“Put your ward first.”
Encouraged, I decided that next year is the year. With the elections about 20 months away, I believe I have ample time to plan properly.
While I will choose the party later, I decided to start with the preliminaries. The first step was forming an election committee. That did not take long. I created one with youthful exuberance and old wisdom.
Broken English
In it, Tito represents young professionals, Nyayo represents hustlers and boda boda riders while his wife Anindo represents women. Rasto represents elders, my brother Pius represents my family and will help with fund raising, while Barasa, a cousin of mine, represents teachers. I also picked one representative from each of the four villages in Mwisho wa Lami Ward. The second task was settling on a slogan. This required serious debate. I proposed one that has served me well before: Tried, Tested and Trusted.
Nyayo rejected it, saying it did not sound like Mwisho wa Lami and demanded something in Kiswahili or broken English. The debate dragged on until my brother Pius asked:
“The President wants to take Kenya to Singapore. Where do you want to take Mwisho wa Lami?”
I answered honestly:
“I have never been to Singapore, and I don’t know what it looks like—but I want to make Mwisho wa Lami look like Singapore. It must be a good place.”
Without much thinking, we settled on: SINGAPORE MASHINANI. When Apostle Elkana heard that I had formed an election committee without him, he complained. He warned me that if I forgot God, I should forget the seat. When we met, he became more practical.
“Look at all the people who come to my church,” he said.
“If I give you just half of them, you will already be ahead of your competitors.”
We had our first meeting yesterday, before Pius returned to Nairobi. Apostle Elkana was elected Chairman of the Mwalimu Andrew 2027 Election Committee, with a clear mandate to begin preparations immediately. The committee’s first assignment is to draft a five-year strategic plan to move Mwisho wa Lami from a small, sleepy village into a Singapore-looking metropolis by 2032.
So if you want to experience Singapore, there are only two steps: Step 1: Register as a voter in Mwisho wa Lami, or transfer your vote here. Step 2: Elect me next year.
You will not need to go to Singapore. Singapore will come to you.
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