THE KENYAN CIRCUS
By Fred Nyankuru In this Republic, we hold elections like weddings of fools, Led by headlines birthed in a gossip-thirsty media, With prophets of plunder sold as saviours of the nation, While saints, too calm to shout, are buried in silence, And citizens cheer old thieves with renewed applause, Drunk on recycled promises by men we once cursed. Oh, how quickly we forget those we rightly cursed— Now we re-elect them with blessings like blissful fools, Their stale pledges garnished for our loud applause, Their lies endorsed by a headline-hunting media, As hope dies quietly in the corners of our silence, And history weeps for this forgetful nation. Every five years, we dance as a deluded nation, Pretending not to remember the rot we once cursed. Our memory is bribed into festive silence, And we hand our power to professional fools, Polished by makeovers from a crooked media, Then clap like seals for another round of applause. What is applause but noise without cause? Applause for men with ...