I woke up this morning to the whole street freshly plastered with a candidates campaign posters. Most are red and the road looks like a sea. (Was this the parable spoken before by the fathers?) These guys were obviously illegally busy last night. Dirty tricks! Anyway, today is the beginning of the next four weeks.
My wife Gakii Njeru made me a sumptuous breakfast of 2 sausages, bacon, bread and 2 cups of tea - 6 pieces.
😋
I battled the chill and was surprisingly welcomed to seemingly empty school. In 2013, the male and female lines spilled over in different directions into the estate for several kilometers. Not this time. I checked my voting details and as usual, station 1. This can be really slow.
There will never lack drama especially when you are in the same line for four hours. The usual mumbling about the slow movement. (Someone will not get my vote. I cannot ng'ang'ana for four hours then vote for just some uncouth fellow who feels it his/her right to be voted for).
Some shouts at the head of the line. A bunch of women, various stages of pregnancy, others with startled babies strapped on their backs pleading maternal considerations. Wait! One baby goes to nursery school with my son! (Is it possible rigging begins in the womb?) Some sleepy, freezing, 'non-conjugated' fellows stammer weak protests. Well, the women vote but along with the electoral manicure, the babies also get a 'Hindu' mark. Common sense it seems.
Finally, after 3 hours, I get to put my right foot on the stair to the room. Huge relief, but there are some 7 people ahead. Each takes about 5 - 7 minutes. Two or three other mothers implead maternal considerations.
She sits there, all black and sleek. Her eye blinking a romantic red to me.
'Come on,' She says.
I finally present my precious right index finger to KIEMS for scanning. KIEMS tells me 'you have a beautiful print.'
'Wait until you scan the other nine.'
I tell her, 'let's make another date Tuesday, 9th Aug 2022'
'Chao amore' KIEMS logs out of my account.
Ballots. A real anti climax. Why should we spend some KSh 50 billion for this ordinary paper than can be printed in Kirinyaga Road? Becuase there is a shortage of trust. In fact, it is so ordinary, one of the MCA aspirants is missing a tooth. In fact, if you count the cost per voter, this election is costing almost Ksh 2,600 per voter.
Let's vote. MP, mmh...MCA...yup...senator...S3..governor...Sonko...President...obvious!
Now the county woman rep. This is a cliff hanger. 1st question. The Constitution is clear about the spirit of this seat. But as a man with a vote which adds no value to me, shouldn't the constitution be willing to listen to my request of fairer representation? It feels like I am being punished for being a man. Second question. Must the county women rep be a woman? (I know what the Constitution says, but the law can be dumb too. There are men who represent women's rights effectively on a daily basis.) So I decide to make a clear statement...I won't vote!
Phew! Four years of politics resolved in five minutes. I head for the legal manicure. I take my ID and that's that.
It is 12:54 pm. Half the day is gone.
My wife Gakii Njeru made me a sumptuous breakfast of 2 sausages, bacon, bread and 2 cups of tea - 6 pieces.
😋I battled the chill and was surprisingly welcomed to seemingly empty school. In 2013, the male and female lines spilled over in different directions into the estate for several kilometers. Not this time. I checked my voting details and as usual, station 1. This can be really slow.
There will never lack drama especially when you are in the same line for four hours. The usual mumbling about the slow movement. (Someone will not get my vote. I cannot ng'ang'ana for four hours then vote for just some uncouth fellow who feels it his/her right to be voted for).
Some shouts at the head of the line. A bunch of women, various stages of pregnancy, others with startled babies strapped on their backs pleading maternal considerations. Wait! One baby goes to nursery school with my son! (Is it possible rigging begins in the womb?) Some sleepy, freezing, 'non-conjugated' fellows stammer weak protests. Well, the women vote but along with the electoral manicure, the babies also get a 'Hindu' mark. Common sense it seems.
Finally, after 3 hours, I get to put my right foot on the stair to the room. Huge relief, but there are some 7 people ahead. Each takes about 5 - 7 minutes. Two or three other mothers implead maternal considerations.
She sits there, all black and sleek. Her eye blinking a romantic red to me.
'Come on,' She says.
I finally present my precious right index finger to KIEMS for scanning. KIEMS tells me 'you have a beautiful print.'
'Wait until you scan the other nine.'
I tell her, 'let's make another date Tuesday, 9th Aug 2022'
'Chao amore' KIEMS logs out of my account.
Ballots. A real anti climax. Why should we spend some KSh 50 billion for this ordinary paper than can be printed in Kirinyaga Road? Becuase there is a shortage of trust. In fact, it is so ordinary, one of the MCA aspirants is missing a tooth. In fact, if you count the cost per voter, this election is costing almost Ksh 2,600 per voter.
Let's vote. MP, mmh...MCA...yup...senator...S3..governor...Sonko...President...obvious!
Now the county woman rep. This is a cliff hanger. 1st question. The Constitution is clear about the spirit of this seat. But as a man with a vote which adds no value to me, shouldn't the constitution be willing to listen to my request of fairer representation? It feels like I am being punished for being a man. Second question. Must the county women rep be a woman? (I know what the Constitution says, but the law can be dumb too. There are men who represent women's rights effectively on a daily basis.) So I decide to make a clear statement...I won't vote!
Phew! Four years of politics resolved in five minutes. I head for the legal manicure. I take my ID and that's that.
It is 12:54 pm. Half the day is gone.
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