Dear Nairobians … It is another December holiday. During this festive season, I want to invite you on a soul-searching voyage. There is nothing to be proud of when you live in a big house in Nairobi and drive big cars and earn fat salaries and have a big collection of clothes and shoes when your parents are living in squalor or mud house or leaking semi-permanent house.
It is immoral and corrupt when you drive home in December in big cars to semi-permanent or houses without plumbing and electricity. You cannot be heard complaining that the Government has failed when you cannot even help your own parents live like you! If every Nairobian uplifted their village homes, Kenya will come close to realizing its dreams.
Ephesians 6:1-3 says: “Children, obey your parents in the Lord for this is right. Honor your father and mother – which is the first commandment with a promise – so that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on earth.” …
Therefore, God is clear …. Do you want a long life? Honor your parents this season by building them a house like your house in Nairobi.
I don’t know him as a lawyer. I know him as a simp who cannot speak in a gathering of men. You will never hear his voice inside a court of law. He is one of those interested in becoming senior counsels, 2021.
Not all lawyers go to make noise in court. There are those that make millions from providing legal cover and guidance in multi billion ksh corrupt deals.
Anybody who is against Arror will be @sani enemy.
Last I heard of Donald Kipkorir he was at Agha Khan on breathing treatments for Covid. He is a colorful figure.
Not all lawyers go to court. Some are on the ground preparing evidence and records to be used by their eloquent colleagues in court. A law firm is like a school. Every person have their duty according to their talents. I know of a prominent lawyer from my home area but he rarely appears in court but everyone looks for him incase you have a case. He solicits his close network and presents your case through them
You must have seen it, that tree-lined driveway leading to an enormous palace worth a fortune atop a hill in the village.
The gate is shut and unguarded, the lawn overgrown, the compound deserted and eerily quiet, apart from termites nibbling away at the mahogany door frames.
The owner, a local boy who resides in the city, pops in once in a while, and save for Christmas when the place is spruced up and lived in for five days of partying, the reclusive mansion is millions rusting with disuse. It’s home for bats and famished cockroaches, mosquitoes, rats, wasps and spiders. Why do Nairobians sink millions into village residences that they have no use for?
