If I Were the Only Voter That Counted

 I woke up this morning with a dangerous thought.

If I were the only voter that counted—just me—would my choices be based on personal benefit, or on what is good for the community?

That question refused to leave me alone.

Just the other day, I was walking past a station in Voi town when I found a group of women crowded outside. Curious, I asked the attendant what was happening.

“Wametoka kwa mkutano wa siasa, wanangoja pesa.”

Ah. Sonuts started playing in my head.

But as I walked on, I passed another group. This time the tone had changed.
“Kwani hawatoi kitu hawa?”

And pa!—or was it wa!—the light in my head switched on.

We can’t keep lying to ourselves anymore.

We are the problem.
I am the problem.
You are the problem.

I recently watched a video making rounds of the incumbent governor, Mheshimiwa Andrew Mwadime. Funny thing—the video speaks only about how calmly he talks, how he listens, how he helps individuals.

I don’t disagree. Helping matters.

But let me ask a painful question:
What do we do with a child whose school fees you paid, who finishes school, then returns straight to the kijiweni—only now armed with confidence that breakfast and lunch will come from politicians?

That is how generations are lost.

A real incident still bothers me. I once met a boda guy who had lost his bike. I asked him, 

“Bro, unaishi aje bila kazi?”

With confidence—no shame—he told me how he travels to Mwatate daily, gets Ksh 500 from the Governor’s office, uses Ksh 200 for fare, and remains with Ksh 300.

Every. Single. Day.

Jeez.

And then we blame politicians.

But pause for a moment—how does a governor survive doing this? That’s a lot of money. Multiply it by hundreds. The economic implications are obvious. This is not empowerment. This is dependency.

And that’s why Taita Taveta is just… there.

Now, Hon. Mwashako—I hear you got a chance. But you need to confront the real issues. In Voi, voters whisper that you are tribal. Whether fair or not, perception matters. And while we’re here—what is really happening in our National School? As an old boy, I have insight, but today isn’t the day. Our focus is bigger.

Let’s talk about the seat that matters right now:
Governor of Taita Taveta County.

Realistically, three names dominate the conversation:

• Wakujaa

• Mwashako

• Mwaruma

There are also whispers of a grand Mshapa comeback. Truth be told, the campaign song was beautiful. But a beautiful song doesn’t rewrite history. It doesn’t clean old stains.

If we are serious—if we are not playing TUTAM—then Samboja should not even be mentioned. Not even hypothetically.

He had his chance. He blew it.

He is an ex that left a sour taste in the mouth. Only “the boys” benefited—the Olele boys, with their Subaru arrogance. Where are they now? Listen closely to their stories and you’ll understand why they called themselves boys and not men—too arrogant to understand that pesa huisha.

Returning Samboja would mean one thing: we have completely lost touch with reality. And if that happens, then maybe we deserve to be absorbed by another county—because we would no longer be a community, just greedy individuals in a greedy society.

Now, Wakujaa.

TUTAM.

He may be a good man. Calm. Well-spoken. But let’s be truthful. Last year’s Senate hearing left a sour taste in my mouth. One thing became very clear: CS Martin Tairo understood the county better than the County CEO himself.

We have a clueless county president.

He is not an administrator. At best, he should have been a deputy governor—but governor? No.

Which brings us to the one name we haven’t confronted honestly enough.

Mwaruma.

This one is complicated.

I won’t go into personal matters. But as an overseer of county finances, we cannot complain about misuse of funds, stalled projects, and questionable allocations without his name being intertwined in the conversation.

Both during Samboja’s time and Wakujaa’s period.

Unfinished projects?
Misused funds?
Oversight failures?

He must carry that burden.

And I hear he has lost touch with the very teachers who helped him win the Senate seat. Nairobi has kept him for too long—tumekusaha. We can only say this: we are grateful for the little you have done, but perhaps it is time to give others a chance.

So where does that leave us?

Samboja—out.
Wakujaa—deeply questionable.
Mwaruma—entangled in the mess he was meant to oversee.

Mwashako!!!! He has got a lot to prove, but I will give him a chance.

Which leaves one uncomfortable but necessary question lingering in the air:

Should we be thinking about Martin Tairo?

The man is principled. Calm under pressure. Grounded in facts. The way he handles Senate questions shows preparation, understanding, and respect for institutions. He understands systems. He understands numbers. He understands the county.

Maybe—just maybe—it’s time we stopped recycling familiarity and started thinking competence.

This may sound like a shamble of words—but maybe that’s exactly where we are as a people. Awake, confused, but no longer blind.

And one thing is certain:
If we continue voting emotionally, transactionally, and selfishly, then we deserve the leadership we complain about.

As Chávez 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.

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

— Voice of Taita Taveta