They walk in tailored suits in Bunge towers smiling wide behind tinted glasses From microphones they preach transformation while the wananchi count loose coins They promise job creation in campaign chants but factories remain rusted and graduates queue endlessly with manila envelopes Hope is passed around like secondhand clothes They speak of unity yet tribal wounds are picked open during election season,l names reduced to votes lives divided by colors of party posters Budgets are read in English but the pain is felt in Kiswahili and mother tongues Billions disappear in white collar fog while mothers deliver on concrete hospital benches We have heard of affordable housing but rent still knocks louder than salary Hustler or dynasty it all sounds the same at the end of the month But still from Kibra to Kangemi, Eldoret to Kisii, Mombasa's docks to Turkana's dry winds, we rise before the sun and build Kenya with calloused hands The true patriots don’t sit in parliament They fry mandazi at dawn ride bodas through traffic teach in overcrowded classrooms heal with too few gloves This country lives because the ordinary refuse to give up And one day when silence becomes too heavy the real voice of Kenya will speak not with violence but with wisdom not for power but for justice https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaWTkG2BPzjdJd9AeV3k ƘԼƳƦƖƇƛԼ ƦӇƳMЄƧ ™