In a land once filled with promise, our village, Gitithia, has become stuffy, like a neglected kitchen where the remnants of past meals linger and rot. The air is thick with the stench of unfulfilled promises and squandered opportunities. Yet, our leaders stands at the podium, quoting the Bible, like a devout woman deeply engaged in church matters, while her own household falls into disarray.
They remind me of women who are so absorbed in their piety that they forget their basic duties. They neglect to clean the kitchen, prepare meals, wash clothes, or be attentive to their husbands and children. When their marriages inevitably falter, they lay the blame at the feet of the devil and seek prayers as a solution, prayers that never address the real issues at hand.
"Viongozi," I say, "our village does not need more prayers. It needs action. Be like a wise woman. Cleanse our village of lack of development. Be accountable for every action, every decision. Minimize wastage and respect the true owners of this village—the people."
A wise woman is meticulous and accountable for every coin she is given. In our village, we ask, "What have you done for us?" We have nothing to show for your tenure. Should we continue feeding a cow that does not give us milk or a bull that gives no seed?
Every morning, a wise woman cleans her house. She wipes the table after every meal. Viongozi, when do you clean your house: our village? If the children tell you your house smells bad, it’s a sign that you have not been maintaining it.
A wise woman knows when to turn off the water taps, switch off the power, and measure the right amount of sugar for tea. But in your house, you cook one project with five litres of oil. This extravagance is wasteful. Viongozi, we cannot call you a noble woman.
A wise woman does not bow to the demands of her neighbours. She knows whom to serve and whom to respect. In our village, we say "hau hatiri mutumia" when a wife does not submit to her husband and children needs. Do we have Viongozi who serves us, or are we left to wonder if we are leaderless?
In the stillness that follows, the weight of my words hangs in the air. Our village stands at a crossroads, and the time for mere words has passed. It is now the moment for action, for wise stewardship, and for true leadership. Only then can we begin to cleanse our kitchen and breathe freely once more.
They remind me of women who are so absorbed in their piety that they forget their basic duties. They neglect to clean the kitchen, prepare meals, wash clothes, or be attentive to their husbands and children. When their marriages inevitably falter, they lay the blame at the feet of the devil and seek prayers as a solution, prayers that never address the real issues at hand.
"Viongozi," I say, "our village does not need more prayers. It needs action. Be like a wise woman. Cleanse our village of lack of development. Be accountable for every action, every decision. Minimize wastage and respect the true owners of this village—the people."
A wise woman is meticulous and accountable for every coin she is given. In our village, we ask, "What have you done for us?" We have nothing to show for your tenure. Should we continue feeding a cow that does not give us milk or a bull that gives no seed?
Every morning, a wise woman cleans her house. She wipes the table after every meal. Viongozi, when do you clean your house: our village? If the children tell you your house smells bad, it’s a sign that you have not been maintaining it.
A wise woman knows when to turn off the water taps, switch off the power, and measure the right amount of sugar for tea. But in your house, you cook one project with five litres of oil. This extravagance is wasteful. Viongozi, we cannot call you a noble woman.
A wise woman does not bow to the demands of her neighbours. She knows whom to serve and whom to respect. In our village, we say "hau hatiri mutumia" when a wife does not submit to her husband and children needs. Do we have Viongozi who serves us, or are we left to wonder if we are leaderless?
In the stillness that follows, the weight of my words hangs in the air. Our village stands at a crossroads, and the time for mere words has passed. It is now the moment for action, for wise stewardship, and for true leadership. Only then can we begin to cleanse our kitchen and breathe freely once more.
