Three months ago, Kenya announced its first Covid-19 case. It might not sound like a long time ago, but your yawning bank account will make it seem like a decade worth of time.
Life has not been the same since the government put up restrictions to manage the pandemic’s wildfire spread. Thanks to the coronavirus, poverty has finally managed to visit those who only used to read about it in books, while still knocking on the doors of those who asked if it is real.
Even big-name organisations who we never thought would cry for a government bailout are now sending distress signals. If things are starting to look thicker than traditional porridge, it is because they actually are.
BUMPY RIDE
We wouldn’t be here had the government carried us along for the bumpy ride from the very beginning.
It is common knowledge that we did not start to fight this pandemic on an equal footing with the government.
They took a matatu and rode it alone and when we frantically asked for a lift, they sent the police to beat us into taking their prescription, when doctors and nurses could have done a better job.
The maltreatment by government, right at the start of the pandemic’s entry into Kenya, forced us to resort to private solutions for public problems, because we quickly learned that when it comes to life-and-death matters, as the Covid-19 pandemic is proving to be, your health begins and ends with you.
Take the example of the face mask. When the pandemic started ravaging the country and the Ministry of Health made it mandatory to wear masks in public, Kenyans were united in asking the government to offer readily available masks at subsidised costs because private businesses were taking advantage to sell them at the price of uranium juice.
ECONOMIC IMBALANCE
The Trade and Industry Cabinet secretary acknowledged the problem existed and promised to send us affordable masks produced by government to offset this economic imbalance, but we should have reminded ourselves that we were dealing with the same people who promised our children laptops... which they’re still waiting for eight years later.
There was only one way it was going to end: in premium tears.
It was not the only promise the government made before going to sleep. The Transport ministry, for example, promised to ensure passenger transport service providers did not hike their charges due to the social distancing restriction required of them to obey.
If ever there was an abusive relationship that needs urgent intervention, this one between Kenyans and their government deserves honest review and professional counselling.
When we were told to stay at home and watch Corona on television, we obeyed government orders knowing that they would keep their promise to reach out to every vulnerable household with food packs and clean water.
Kenyans are back on the streets in their numbers, not because we enjoy squabbling with Corona police, but because we’d rather risk our lives looking for food than die waiting for a government that has refused to see our welling tears – and they can’t say it’s because of the face masks we are wearing.
Times without number, Kenyans have proven to be a very resilient people. We wake up before the sun and return home long after sunset. For a long time, Kenyans have underwritten government irresponsibility even when they needed not, but instead of those in public office sending us friend requests to actualise this blossoming love, they send the police to convince us that this country will break our hearts if we attempt to love it.
The government needs to know that promises might offer hope to a people struggling to make ends meet, but Kenyans won’t eat promises when hunger strikes, because Jesus didn’t leave us with powers to convert stones into bread before he went to be with his father in heaven.
Kenyans love this country. We want it to do well so that we can win social media arguments with citizens of other countries who keep questioning our dying love for our national flag.
That is why Kenyans are disappointed that this year’s budget does not address the situation of the vulnerable poor, especially in the wake of Covid-19 and what it has done to our pockets.
We know our MPs haven’t been responsive to the plight of the suffering poor lately, but Kenyans are hanging onto the slim hope that they shall come together for once and stop the government from taxing our food, water and fuel sources, at the very least.
The Covid-19 pandemic has led to many Kenyans sinking deeper into poverty; it will be of no use if we survived coronavirus only to be killed by hunger and starvation.
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