After spending two years out of my business seeking a political seat, I was shocked to find out that I was not as popular as I thought.
My ambition was to become an MP but I was surprised, and my wife had warned me, that not all those who chant my slogans would vote for me.
I now feel rejected, after performing dismally in the recent primaries. How should I cope with this loss before it takes a toll on me?
Your ambition was to become a Member of Parliament. You tell us the truth in this case because you declare yours was an act of selfishness where only your ambition mattered and not that of your constituents.
Your question and the events of the last few days make me to reflect on Kenyan society in general, and our political class in particular, and I am forced to conclude that we need “moral rearmament” urgently.
In the late sixties as we grew up, the then famous Moral Rearmament Movement, (propelled by the USA and with the full backing of the CIA), attempted to impart moral standards among the youth of this country.
The boys and girls of my era will recall the many songs and dances of the day, as we sang (among others) the then famous tune “what colour is God’s skin”.
Then, none of us knew or cared about tribe. All our organisations from the Nairobi Students’ Club, to musical groups like the Strollers were a rainbow of the Kenyan nation, and boys and girls mixed and mingled in harmony.
Boys like Anyang’ Nyong’o, Joe Nyagah, and Emanuel Okubasu then mixed and mingled with girls like Doris Waruhiu (Kinuthia), Sopiato Likimani, Mary Mbugua and many others without a thought of ethnic origins. We had a shared vision.
Looking at Kenya in the last few weeks, I feel pained and it seems my generation has failed our country.
It hurts me to think what type of country my grandchildren will live in. We seem to have lost the plot somewhere, and perfected the system of always and only thinking of me, myself and I.
That is why you want to go to Parliament as a personal ambition, without regard to serving your people. Your situation is almost comical, and would lead me to laugh if it was not so serious and widespread.
You wanted to cheat the constituents that you were going to Parliament to represent them. They in turn cheated you that they loved you, took your money and you are now dejected. A taste of your own cheating medicine. You must have learnt your lesson.
Many things have gone right in our country, and I do not want to suggest that we have a bad country. We have a wonderful country but like spoilt children, we do not seem to care to nurture it.
Yes, we have a new Constitution, but we still refuse to follow the law. In this specific regard, the law was very clear that nominations for political parties was to end by January 18. Did we respect that deadline?
A number of political parties probably planned to do the last-minute nominations, for fear of defections. Were you one of the defectors?
What does the fact of your defection tell us of your loyalty to your party? Indeed if you are not loyal to your party, why should your voters be loyal to you?
What bothers me is that you are surprised that the voters have treated you the way you treated them.
Your question has led me to another train of thought which you may find useful.
What did you try and sell to your constituents? Did you promise them jobs, education, money, happiness, prosperity or good health?
Of all the things you promised what did you feel able to begin to deliver? What platform did you use to get votes? Did you base it on religion, tribe, education or wealth?
I have watched Kenyans dismember their country into ethnic blocks called alliances and have felt a deep sense of sadness.
We have divided our country into voting blocks that are based on little more than tribal alliances. My countrymen have left me feeling like I belong to the dark ages. Your question aggravates the pain.
Allow me to ask the many now failed politicians, what qualifications did you have when you put your name forward to be nominated MP? Did you consider the possibility that you may not be qualified for the job?
Experience in management
I have with horror watched a number of nominations to high office (governor, senator or MP), and belonging to a particular tribe qualifies one to be a governor.
Surely some proven experience in the management of public affairs would be necessary.
The blame in part belongs to us as voters. We have allowed selfish, power-hungry tribal chiefs like you to take charge of our country, and have forgotten the meaning of the word meritocracy.
When I cast my vote on March 4 this year, I will not vote for a person like you, I will vote for the man or woman who represents the face of Kenya as I remember it growing up.
Ethnic origin will not matter and neither will his religion, or wealth. I will vote for the person who promises a prosperous future for my grandchildren.