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 no heart to heal this bleeding nation.

Our screens parade them—courtesy of their bought media,

And we are told they are different from the demons we cursed.

The intelligent stay home, mocked by marching fools,

And their absence fuels the tyranny of our silence.

Yes, the good men sit in dignified silence—

Not flashy, not corrupt, not seeking hollow applause.

But Kenya does not vote brains; we vote for fools,

If only they can dance and throw shade at the nation,

If only they can insult better than the devils we cursed,

They get the endorsement of our trend-setting media.

And still, we blame the wrong crowd—the media.

Yet who gave it voice but the price of our silence?

Who praised a conman today but we who once cursed

him yesterday? Who turns each villain to applause

But a people allergic to truth—a blind nation

Addicted to drama and governed by fools?

So here lies our media, our puppets of applause.

Here lies our silence, a coffin for the nation.

And here rise the fools again—those we never really cursed.

Oh Kenya, your hope lies not in those who shout,

But in the quiet builder you mock and ignore—

Until you love truth more than theatre, you will always be ruled by fools.