I am Kenyan and proud to be one. I love my country to bits, or so I tell myself. It sounds like the right and patriotic thing to say, yes? You cannot not love your country, or can you?

Kenya is beautiful, beautiful people, beautiful places. We are a unique people. 43 different tribes and culture but only 2 tribes seem to have enough clout to sway the country. 2 out of 43. That’s got to be unique, no?

Seated in the comfort of my house. Rent paid, food on my table, clothes on my body, a salary at the end of the month. And health, oh yes, I am healthy. I’m not sick. None of my loved ones are unwell and of they are, well, private hospitals are still on, no?

Doctors have been on strike. And as a Kenyan, who loves her country and is proud of it, I am very angry. Too angry in fact. How can this government be comfortable with hospital doors closed? I tweet and I Facebook. I sit down with my friends and we fuel each other’s anger and disappointment at the government. What is wrong with these people? Oh and KRA is always quick to come after my tax. The money that is supposed to be used to fund these projects. So, why am I paying for services upfront, yet when I need them, I can’t access them?

I feel nothing for politics really. It gives me high blood pressure. Who needs that, right? And there’s nothing progressive these people say. They are just concerned about themselves and their need for power. So, I haven’t watched TV in my house for almost 18 months. I say if its important enough, it will find me. And when it’s important, it does find me. Yes, I love my country,very proud of it. I just don’t care about what the custodians do with it cos it doesn’t affect me directly but for sure, I got mad love for my motherland. Burying head in the sand scenario.

Love. Do I really love my country though? I have loved before. And you don’t mess with people I love. I could kill you and after all the criminal mind seasons I’ve watched, I know how I can dispose of your body without it ever being traced back to me. Haha. Serious. Jesus left heaven to come to earth, cos God loves us that much. You see, when you love someone, or something, nothing is off limits. You almost become like a mad man, especially if someone dares to mess with the apple of your eye. Okay, there’s consequences that at times tame us and keep us from going over board, but, but, we’ve thought of the crazy. And we are capable of it too.

I love my country. Yet she is being raped and defiled in so many levels and the best I can do is tweet and write this post. This is how much I love it. Can you imagine seeing someone you love being hurt and you watch and go and tweet about how mad you are. You rally have helped. I know social media has immense power and yes it can cause tectonic shifts but what if it doesn’t? What if the perpetrators are not on social media so that our angry words don’t sting them? What if they are immune to the words. They’ve found a way to block us out, then what?

I love my country, just not enough to demand justice on her behalf. Just not enough to actually take action, serious action that will actually cause these employees of mine, yes. They are my employees. It is my taxes that pay them, no? So why am I still paying people who are not delivering; who are doing everything but what is in their job description? ‘Well, it’s complicated,’ I think to myself. But is it really? I have supported those who have marched on the streets. Yes, on Facebook and retweeted their tweets. That is something, yes? Solidarity. I mean, the cops. The teargas. I’m not a fast runner. But I love my country and I’m mad, very mad at what my employees are doing to it, just not enough to take any major action to try and stop them.

I think, what if we all decided we would not go to work in solidarity with the doctors? The whole entire country. No shops to open, no matatus, not even the cobblers. We all just decide to paralyze the country for one day in solidarity with our health providers and see what will happen. I smile. Sounds like a plan. But, but, I’ll tweet and Facebook and complain to my friends and hope to wake up to a new dawn.

That’s how much I love my country.

Imperfectous.

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