There once was a dream called Kenya.
A dream of our forefathers for generations and eons to come. A dream we of the present have spectacularly failed to cherish and nurture.
Once, when we were one we took on the world and won. We outrun and out-sported just about everybody. Our coffee and tea ruled the world markets. Our people were celebrated from Norway to Hollywood. We became the most important Black nation on earth.
For an infinitisemal moment we were kings, gods who walked the earth.
Now, we stand on the edge of a precipice, sharpening swords and spears to kill our own brothers and sisters. We sound the drums of war as if preparing for an evening dance.
There once was a dream called Kenya that we should have guarded more.
Now, that dream is gone. Every where you look is despair and despondence. We can no longer look each other in eye and say we can die together in Al Adde. Our flag lies low, and I for one have a great hatred for some who were once my beloved countrymen and women.
There once was a dream called Kenya, but we let it flit away in the breath of a 72-year old warlord. It is as if we didn't care or believe.
In years to come people will look back and marvel; how were they so blind, so myopic, so conceited they let the dream die? What was wrong with them?
The Holy Bible says the lifetime of a man is 70 years and a little more. I wish the dream that was Kenya would have lived a little longer, and may be then dawn would have come bearing better tidings.
A dream of our forefathers for generations and eons to come. A dream we of the present have spectacularly failed to cherish and nurture.
Once, when we were one we took on the world and won. We outrun and out-sported just about everybody. Our coffee and tea ruled the world markets. Our people were celebrated from Norway to Hollywood. We became the most important Black nation on earth.
For an infinitisemal moment we were kings, gods who walked the earth.
Now, we stand on the edge of a precipice, sharpening swords and spears to kill our own brothers and sisters. We sound the drums of war as if preparing for an evening dance.
There once was a dream called Kenya that we should have guarded more.
Now, that dream is gone. Every where you look is despair and despondence. We can no longer look each other in eye and say we can die together in Al Adde. Our flag lies low, and I for one have a great hatred for some who were once my beloved countrymen and women.
There once was a dream called Kenya, but we let it flit away in the breath of a 72-year old warlord. It is as if we didn't care or believe.
In years to come people will look back and marvel; how were they so blind, so myopic, so conceited they let the dream die? What was wrong with them?
The Holy Bible says the lifetime of a man is 70 years and a little more. I wish the dream that was Kenya would have lived a little longer, and may be then dawn would have come bearing better tidings.
