The first bullet is shot. The first scream rings through the sombre atmosphere. . The first smoke is seen.
Fire is razing down a village. You start celebrating. Your enemies are being brought down because they did not vote for “MTU WETU.”
After two days, life becomes hard. You cannot freely fetch water from the local river because you fear for your life. There is smoke and screams everywhere. Your livestock is stolen. You cannot feed your children well.
Life gets tougher. You cannot make calls because the government has cut out the network. It all becomes dark. You cannot watch the news. It is bad. You also start feeling the punch.
After four days, your attackers are repulsed. You hear that your enemies are advancing towards your village and they have received reinforcement You hear that they are regrouping, and are heavily armed.
You start fearing. You wonder why there was war in the first place anyway.
Your children are hungry. They are afraid. You are disillusioned.
Then your village is attacked. The same attacks are in other villages and shanty slums in cities. You collect your little belongings and run to the police station.
Your daughter trips and breaks her leg. Then some old man tells your your son has fallen in the war. You are not emotional. Not sad even. You seem to be out of touch with time, with the world.
An arrow goes through your left thigh as you run for safety. You just drag yourself along. You are still alive.
Reaching the police station, it is overcrowded.
You have to share a tent. A leaking tent. The hygiene there is terrible. The sanitation do not befit a human being.Then you realize you are not with your daughter. You try to look for her. Then you find out that in the camp there is a Njoroge, an Atieno, a Bakari, a Wekesa, a Kipkorir, a Nyambane and others.
Your leg is rotting. You cannot find your darling daughter. People start dying, and you start wondering who is fighting who? Everyone is in the camp, and you have the same problem, you are fighting for scarce food, water and other resources.
Your daughter who broke her leg is unconscious. You are also getting thin. The old men in the next tent that had become your friend dies at night.
Then the police station is attacked. Hundreds die. The CNN come and cover your despair. Al Jazeera. Deutsche Welle. BBC. You escape, but you cannot run. Your leg is almost non functional. The attackers reach you. They wipe your entire remaining family out with machetes as you watch. And they leave you in agony. Hungry dogs will find you and lick your leg.
In hunger, dehydration, loss of blood and bacterial infection, you die.
Your “MTU WETU” shall be watching the news with his family or a hot diva of a campus girl in Bahamas or Sychelles. Then when all is done, when most of your people and the others you used to call enemies shall be dead or too weak to fight, he and his friends shall gather at Villa Rosa Kempinsky sipping very expensive wine and eating some delicacies you only heard of, laughing and sharing power, while your remains rot under some old tree in some remote forest.
Ethnic diversity is not enmity. Choose life, not violence. Be wise. Let us stay united no matter the side which supreme court will rule in favour or against.
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