“Aii Mum, si ni Mkenya”

 I was reading a post on X the other day.

Or rather—I started reading it.

I can’t even remember the exact wording now, but let’s not dwell on my memory. I hear 50 years is a proper kick in the nuts—even upstairs. You lose some things. Hair included. My mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be. Jeez… I’ve even forgotten where I was going with this.

Ah yes. The daughter.

So this daughter comes home from school, excited—bubbling over about something that happened during the day. One of those moments parents pretend to be listening to while mentally checking tomorrow’s bills.

Then the mum asks, casually, without malice:
“Alikuwa wa kabila gani?”

And the daughter answers, confused:
“Aii Mum, si ni Mkenya?”

That innocence.
That clarity.
That generation of my dreams.

Why can’t we just be that?
Kenyans.

Funny thing is—even in small societies, the disease survives.

Take us here in Taita Taveta. To an outsider, we are one people: Taita Taveta. Simple. Clean.

If only they knew.

We have subdivided ourselves into mini-tribes within a tribe.
Wataita.
Wasagalla.
Wataveta.

Make the mistake of calling one the other.

Jisos.

“Mimi si Mataita, mimi ni Mtaveta.”
“Mimi si Mtaveta, mimi ni Mtaita.”

The facial expression that follows will make you wonder whether you personally attended the crucifixion of the Messiah.

So let me ask: why do we divide ourselves so efficiently—then complain loudly on national platforms?

“Wamechukua Wakikuyu pekee yao…”

Really?

We have failed ourselves first.

Let’s evaluate this division honestly. Who benefits?

Divided they fall.

That was the foundation of slavery in ancient Africa. Our ancestors were strong, intelligent, organised. And yet, a handful of white men—small in number—managed to enslave entire civilizations.

How?

They divided and conquered.

The elite political class does the same today. They hide behind political parties, slogans, colours. But behind closed doors, deals are brokered strictly along tribal lines.

Remember Gachagua?

And here we are, seriously entertaining the idea of reproducing that model.

A politician can insult you today, call you names, dismiss your existence—and tomorrow call you uncle, cousins, then remind you that “Taita has murima too.”

And we clap.

We have turned into kindergarten kids—singing rhymes just to remember alphabets we were taught yesterday. We repeat everything the teacher says, even when he says, “Now shut up,” and we shout in unison, “NOW SHUT UP!”

We made ourselves this way.

We separated the political class from ourselves—turned them into gods. Exactly the way our forefathers once viewed white men.

And now we wonder why nothing works.

We need to have a conversation.

About our votes.
About our leaders.

I hear  Our Former Speaker Bwana Wisdom was saved by the judiciary. Full package. Lawyers. Process. Justice served—or so they say. But if it was a miscarriage of justice, then let the MCA 's bear the cost. Why should taxpayers pay for their legal mistakes?

Now here’s the kicker.

The Auditor General has revealed that 54 million shillings in Taita Taveta County—for the financial year 2024/2025—could not be confirmed due to what was described as a “systemic error.” This came out before the County Public Investment Committee.

Let’s break it down slowly.

The County Executive paid 732 million shillings to Coast Water Works.

The quoted amount?

678 million.

😂

Let me translate this to village economics.

I am broke. I go to the shop. The shopkeeper tells me bread is 100 bob.
And because I am who I am—I pay 200 bob.

54 million just like that!!. GONE.

When questioned, the Governor says it’s a conflict of interest—apparently because Senator Mwaruma was asking. Then follows a sentence that made zero sense to me, except theatrically:

“You see, even the muscles of the neck come out…”

Jamaa ametolewa mishipa ya shingo.

That’s where I stopped.

I’m done for today.

Tired—not just physically—but tired of the way things are normalised. Tired of selective outrage. Tired of pretending we don’t understand patterns.

Let’s have these conversations genuinely.

Because united we stand, divided we fall is not a slogan—it’s a historical fact.

Hit subscribe.
Share.
Keep sharing.

Maybe—just maybe—that daughter who said “si ni Mkenya” won’t have to unlearn what we failed to fix.

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