Open Letter to Governor Mwadime (Wakujaa): The Pain of Broken Promises and Lack of Accountability

 Greetings, Bwana Gavana Wakujaa

We have watched silently as you lied to us, much like your counterpart in the National Government. Promises that have not been kept, as you danced on car hoods singing, "tararaa eee ni Mwadime, tararaa eee ni Mwadime". We saw a future full of promises. We hoped and dreamt that money lost would be recovered, and looters would be prosecuted! But as of today, nothing has happened, and people are asking—in whose hands are we safe?

The state of the county is dire. If we don’t ask questions, the future generation will blame us. And if you don’t answer questions asked by the public, what are you portraying? We have sent emails to your office requesting information—public information—but nothing so far, not even an acknowledgment of receipt. Eishh! That’s rude, Abooh! How do you keep your employers waiting for answers?

Let’s talk about the state of our health facilities. Taveta Hospital is in total darkness, Moi Hospital we don’t even know where to begin and the morgue at Wesu Hospital?—ata kupiga rangi pekee awongo!!!—seriously!! Our medics are working under very intense conditions. Do you go to Moi Hospital for medication? Or have you ever had to preserve the remains of a loved one at Wesu Hospital?  Have you ever had an emergency in Taveta and had to be rushed to Taveta Hospital?

We need to know which contractors the county owes, what work has been done, and when. We’ve requested these documents, but still nothing. The county's pending bills are piling up, and yet there seems to be no clear communication or resolution. Voi Stadium is a pit of corruption, and you know it! What has been done about the World War monument scandal that welcomed you into office? What about the money stolen in the previous government?

Our ancestors have turned their backs on us! We have stopped being our brother's keeper. I remember stories from the old days—when hunger hit Mghange Nyika, a family in Sagalla would have provided for them, and vice versa. The question I keep asking myself is: when did the fruits of labour stop being sweet? When did the gifts of fortune become a welcomed sight?

Let’s sit down and have an honest conversation! The seat you sit on was given to you out of trust. We might not be able to take it back from you, but sure as hell, we will hold you accountable. We speak for the faceless—the people who jumped and danced while you campaigned. The faces you can’t remember anymore. We speak for the voiceless—the people who chanted your name, voices you have forgotten. We don’t want you impeached; we want you to hold your end of the deal. Create a better Taita. Listen to the cries and pleas of your people. Even those who are happy with your work, I wonder!!—can a father feed one child and leave the others to die of hunger?

As we sit here thinking of ways to improve our county, we exchanged stories. One stood out: Animal Farm by George Orwell.

It’s a tale about animals who believed in equality and justice. They overthrew their human rulers, hoping for a better life, but soon, things began to unravel.

At the heart of the farm was a leader who promised change. At first, he seemed like the one who would lead them to a brighter future. He spoke with passion, and the animals believed him. They followed him loyally, trusting that he would bring fairness and prosperity to the farm. But as time passed, he changed. He became comfortable, surrounded by his close circle, who ensured that no one questioned him. The promises of equality faded, and he grew more distant from the very animals who had put him in power.

Meanwhile, the ones who were supposed to watch over the farm, the ones tasked with keeping the leader in check, became quiet. They had their own rewards to protect. They sat at the same table, enjoying the benefits, while the animals below worked harder and harder, seeing none of the change they were promised.

Then there were those who knew the truth. They could see what was happening. They whispered among themselves, quietly hoping for a day when the farm might be better. But most of them were afraid to speak out. After all, they remembered what had happened to the few who had dared to raise their voices in the past. Those voices had been silenced quickly, with no trace left behind.

And there were still others who continued to believe in the leader, who worked tirelessly, thinking that one day, things would get better. These animals, with their unshakable loyalty, never gave up hope. But their efforts, no matter how great, seemed to go unnoticed, and they were always left with the short end of the stick.

As the seasons passed, the farm looked nothing like what was promised. The leader and his inner circle thrived, while the rest of the animals continued to toil under a system that had failed them. But deep down, the animals knew the truth. Some whispered it among themselves, waiting for the day when they could no longer stay silent.

Can we compare Taita Taveta to Animal Farm??

They said “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others”

As Chavez said, “Once you educate the people, you cannot make them unlearn.” We have seen the future, and the future is ours. They think we don't see. But we are faceless, and yet, we see.

gods of Taita Taveta, let’s make it in our own image. Next Thursday, stay tuned for our next episode.   Follow us on Facebook @Alve Mwaregha.          

For any queries or information, reach out to us at Voice of Taita Taveta @doctalve or email doctalve@gmail.com.