Scene I — The Morning After
(Dim morning light. The stage reveals the remains of yesterday’s political rally. Crushed water bottles. Torn campaign posters. Discarded food packets. Broken whistles. Dust. Silence. The excitement has vanished. Reality has returned. Nyina wa Wanja enters slowly carrying a basin of tomatoes. She surveys the mess. Shakes her head.)
Nyina wa Wanja: Politics leaves garbage faster than development.
(She begins cleaning around her stall. Kamau enters, exhausted, wearing yesterday’s campaign T-shirt.)
Nyina wa Wanja: You look like democracy beat you physically.
Kamau: Those people danced until midnight. Then the DJ disappeared with the money.
Nyina wa Wanja: And what remained?
Kamau: Dust. Empty promises. And one missing phone.
(Laughter from nearby traders entering. Muthee Karanja enters slowly carrying a newspaper.)
Muthee Karanja: Look. Now they are calling yesterday’s rally “historic.”
Kamau: Historic for who?
Muthee Karanja: For photographers. (He opens newspaper dramatically.) “Thousands gather to endorse visionary leadership.” Thousands? I counted the same people circling the market three times.
(Laughter.)
Nyina wa Wanja: Crowds are now transported like furniture just to meet political media houses people.
Kamau: Even excitement has become outsourced. No small money no cheering.
(Mzee Kihoto enters quietly.)
Mzee Kihoto: My children…modern politics is no longer leadership. It is cinematography. If cameras arrive, development exists. If cameras leave, reality returns. (Pause.) A well painted dispensary without medicine may still launch successfully if enough drones are flying overhead.
(Laughter.)
Scene II — The Market of Crowds
(Under the Mugumo-ini tree. Late afternoon. Villagers gathered lazily beneath its shade. Some seated-on stones. Others playing cards. Women sorting vegetables. Young men scrolling through phones with no data bundles. The atmosphere is heavy with boredom and unemployment.)
Mzee Kihoto: In Lari…elections do not arrive quietly. No. They gather slowly like rain clouds over dry land. And before the first speech is made…politicians begin searching for one thing. Crowds.
Kamau: There are no jobs. But that is not politicians’ issue of concern.
Nyina wa Wanja: Tomatoes are rotting in the market.
Old Man Wa Kambaa: And yet politicians are driving new SUVs.
(Pause. Enter Chairman wa Groups slowly. He walks with the confidence of a man who has discovered hidden gold. He smiles mysteriously. The villagers immediately notice him.)
Nyina wa Wanja: Chairman…why are you smiling like a man who has seen government money?
(Laughter.)
Chairman wa Groups: My people…I truly do not know how many times I must tell you this. Stop suffering individually. Organize yourselves into groups.
Crowd: Groups?
Chairman wa Groups: Not groups for violence. Not groups for fighting. Groups for eating politics money properly.
(Murmurs.)
Kamau: Explain yourself carefully.
Chairman wa Groups: Politicians love groups. They fear individuals. An individual cannot make noise at a rally. An individual cannot wave branches properly. An individual cannot chant slogans with energy. An individual cannot impress television cameras. But fifty hangry people singing together? That becomes “massive ground support.”
Mzee Kihoto: And suddenly…the villagers leaned closer. Because in Lari, wisdom sounds sweeter when it smells like money.
(Chairman wa Groups kneels and begins drawing figures in dust using a stick.)
Chairman wa Groups: Now listen carefully. In this ward alone; twenty MCA aspirants, ten MP aspirants, many women reps, too many senators, and governors spending money like men escaping death. And presidential candidates?
(Laughter.)
Old Man Wa Kambaa: And what does that have to do with us?
Chairman wa Groups: Everything. These politicians are now cash cows.
(Silence.)
Crowd: Cash cows…
Chairman wa Groups: Yes. And not zebu but Holstein Friesians. But my people do not know how to milk.
(The villagers exchange excited looks.)
Mzee Kihoto: And there it was. A new economic policy for the village. Not farming. Not business. Not employment. But a campaign season that would give birth to regrets.
Chairman wa Groups: Rule number one; Never attend political meetings alone. Come with grandparents. Come with grandchildren. Come with neighbors. Come with church leaders.
Crowd: Never alone!
Chairman wa Groups: Move in groups of fifty, hundred, thousand, ten thousand…. Aspirants fear empty chairs more than opposition.
Nyina wa Wanja: Even churches nowadays have more people when aspirants are coming.
Chairman wa Groups: Exactly. A politician must feel important.
Kamau: And what do we ask for?
Chairman wa Groups: Transport.
Crowd: Transport!
Chairman wa Groups: Lunch.
Crowd: Lunch!
Chairman wa Groups: Facilitation.
Crowd: Facilitation!
Pastor Wakweri: But people know that is voter bribery.
Chairman wa Groups: No, Pastor. Bribery is illegal. This is appreciation for participation.
(Huge laughter. Suddenly campaign music approaches. Dust rises. Convoys arrive. SUVs. Motorcycles. Whistles. Excitement erupts immediately.)
MCA Aspirant: Where are the youth?
Chairman wa Groups: Mobilized.
MCA Aspirant: Where are the women?
Chairman wa Groups: Prepared.
MCA Aspirant: And the elders?
Chairman wa Groups: Very expensive nowadays…but ready with traditional regalia.
(Laughter. Villagers suddenly burst into loud singing.)
Crowd: Our leader! Our leader!
Mzee Kihoto: Observe carefully. The louder the singing the fatter the handout…. but the emptier the loyalty.
(Chairman wa Groups quietly pulls Aspirant aside.)
Chairman wa Groups: My people came from very far.
MCA Aspirant: I already hired tents.
Chairman wa Groups: Crowds do not eat tents.
MCA Aspirant: I printed T-shirts.
Chairman wa Groups: Can T-shirts move hearts?
MCA Aspirant: What do they want?
Chairman wa Groups: You are asking the wrong question.
MCA Aspirant: Then what is the right question?
Chairman wa Groups: How badly do you want the seat?
(Pause. The Aspirant quietly removes a thick envelope. Chairman wa Groups smiles slowly.)
Mzee Kihoto: And democracy continued its sacred journey.
(Another convoy arrives before the first leaves.)
MP Aspirant: Why are these people wearing another candidate’s T-shirts?
Chairman wa Groups: Development has many stakeholders. First come first served.
(Laughter.)
MP Aspirant: Were they not at my rally yesterday?
Nyina wa Wanja: Leadership requires consistency. That is why we attend all meetings.
Kamau: We believe in inclusivity.
(Huge laughter.)
Governor’s Agent: We need five hundred people tomorrow.
Chairman wa Groups: With or without dancing and ngemi?
Governor’s Agent: With energy. Ready to talk with paid media people.
Chairman wa Groups: Energy costs extra.
(Laughter. Night falls slowly. Villagers seated counting money. Campaign T-shirts scattered everywhere. Empty cheap liquor bottles. Political songs fading in distance.)
Kamau: Today I attended three rallies.
Nyina wa Wanja: I attended four.
Old Man Wa Kambaa: Last election we were manipulated for free. This time round we must get our share of politics funds.
(Laughter.)
Pastor Wakweri: But honestly…is this not wrong?
(Silence.)
Chairman wa Groups: Pastor…when elections end…will these politicians remember us?
Pastor Wakweri: Probably not.
Chairman wa Groups: Then this is our season. The cows are full of milk and ready for us.
Crowd: The cows are ready!
Chairman wa Groups: The milk is ready.
Crowd: The milk is ready!
Chairman wa Groups: Your time is now. Milk!
(Lights shift abruptly. Silence. Morning after elections. Empty roads. Torn posters. No music. No convoys. Only potholes remain faithfully.)
Kamau: My phone no longer rings.
Nyina wa Wanja: Even the MCA stopped greeting people.
Old Man Wa Kambaa: The milk dried.
Pastor Wakweri: And now?
(Long silence.)
Chairman wa Groups: Now we wait for five years again.
Crowd: Five years?
Chairman wa Groups: Yes. Unless either helicopter crash or cancer bless us.
(The villagers stand quietly.)
Mzee Kihoto: The politicians came looking for crowds. The crowds came looking for survival. Both used each other. And both called it politics.
Crowd: We sang. We danced. We filled rallies. We hated each other. We milked the cows.
(Pause.)
Crowd: (softly) But somehow…we remained poor.
Old Man Wa Kambaa: One day we shall stop renting ourselves to politicians.
Kamau: …and start demanding something more expensive than money.
Nyina wa Wanja: Responsibility.
Pastor Wakweri: True.
Chairman wa Groups: And dignity.
(Far away, campaign music begins again. Some villagers slowly turn their heads instinctively.)
Mzee Kihoto: And once again…the circus remembered the road to Lari.
(Blackout.)
Scene III — Party Headquarters
(Lights shift. A noisy political office. Party banners everywhere. Plastic chairs. Half-eaten food. Young social media workers typing rapidly on laptops and phones. Large poster; “Mungai — The People’s Shield.” MC Jay paces energetically.)
MC Jay: Where is the trending hashtag? Why are opposition supporters dominating Facebook? Wake up! We are losing online sympathy!
Social Media Boy: Sir, people are complaining about roads.
MC Jay: Then post bursary photos.
Social Media Girl: People are also posting abandoned dispensaries and schools and calling them Gede ruins.
MC Jay: Good. Reply with old photos of completed classrooms and ongoing stalled hospitals.
Social Media Boy: But those classrooms collapsed.
MC Jay: Collapsed physically. Not digitally.
(Laughter. Mungai enters calmly. Everyone stands immediately.)
Mungai: Sit. No need to fear democracy inside the office.
(They laugh nervously.) Report.
MC Jay: The youth online are becoming aggressive. Especially supporters of Gichuka Waithera.
Mungai: Educated supporters?
MC Jay: Very educated. Very unemployed.
Mungai: Dangerous combination.
(Laughter.)
Mungai: What are people complaining about this week?
Social Media Girl: Water shortages. Roads. Hospital equipment. School fees.
Mungai: Good.
MC Jay: Good?
Mungai: A suffering population is politically emotional. Emotional voters are easier to direct.
(Silence.)
Mungai: Never solve every problem before elections. A politician without public suffering is unemployed.
(Even MC Jay is disturbed briefly.)
Mungai: Now listen carefully. This campaign is not about facts. Facts do not move crowds. Emotion moves crowds. Identity moves crowds. Fear moves crowds. Pride moves crowds. Nobody wakes up excited to vote for budgeting transparency.
(Laughter.)
MC Jay: So what is the strategy?
Mungai: Simple. Make Gichuka Waithera appear intelligent and performer…but dangerous. Educated… but disconnected to daily life of common voter. Honest…but unrealistic.
Social Media Boy: And you?
Mungai: I become familiar. Warm. Accessible. A man of the people. (He smiles.) Politics is not about truth. It is about emotional ownership.
Scene IV — Kwamûnene Visit
(The Gatekeepers of Lari. Early morning. A dusty road winding through the hills of Lari. Cowbells in the distance. Goats bleating. Cold mist hanging low over the valleys. Several political aspirants walk nervously carrying; envelopes, goats, baskets, and gifts wrapped carefully in traditional clothing. No one speaks loudly. The atmosphere feels sacred. Dangerously sacred.)
Crowd: (softly) To win in Lari…you must pass here. Not through the people. Not through ideas. But through one gate.
(Slow lights reveal Kwamûnene in the distance. A large homestead. Quiet. Fenced. Powerful without trying to appear powerful. The kind of place where decisions are made without records.)
Kijabe Aspirant: (whispering) Is this the place?
Kinale Aspirant: This is it. Kwamûnene. Where votes are weighed before ballots.
(Mutumia wa Kamburu enters slowly leaning on a walking stick. She studies the aspirants carefully. Not impressed. Not surprised.)
Mutumia wa Kamburu: Long ago… this was only a home. Now it is; an office without files, a court without law, and a polling station without ballot boxes.
(The aspirants shift uneasily.)
Nyanduma Youth: (quietly) Then why do people still come?
Mutumia wa Kamburu: Because fear travels faster than democracy and association with the savior is all the voters want.
(Aspirants approach gate slowly. One knocks gently. Silence. Only animals heard chewing inside. Then a calm voice emerges from within.)
Munene: (offstage) Enter.
(Lights shift. Inside Kwamûnene. The stage changes slowly. Cows grazing freely. Healthy goats. Fat sheep. Workers moving quietly. Envelopes exchanged discreetly. No shouting. No campaign music. Power here is calm.)
Munene: (smiling warmly) You have come early. Lari people respects seriousness.
Kinale Aspirant: (pushing envelope forward) I seek direct party ticket nomination.
Munene: Thirikari ni nene. Government is big. There is space for everyone…somewhere; ministries, state departments, commissions, consulates.
(Kijabe Aspirant presents goats proudly.)
Kijabe Aspirant: From Kijabe. With respect.
Munene: (examining goats carefully) Good breed. Very loyal. (Pause.) Leadership also requires loyalty.
(Workers quietly lead goats away. The Ranch slowly grows. More animals appear gradually throughout scene.)
Crowd: (chanting softly) Cows from Kamburu. Goats from Kijabe. Sheep from Kinale. Envelopes from Lari/Kirenga. Votes from everywhere.
Nyanduma Youth: (aside) Is leadership now livestock? Is democracy measured in tribal kingpin?
(Aspirants now seated waiting nervously. Munene moves slowly among them. Like a king inspecting a guard of honor.)
Aspirant: What of my people?
Munene: They will vote correctly.
Aspirant: And correctly means?
Munene: (smiles faintly) You.
Aspirant: And if they choose differently?
(A long silence.)
Munene: Lari people know the path. They follow the direction I show them. And if they deviate there will always be a place for you in my government.
Crowd: Some were promised direct party nominations. Some promised jobs. Some tenders. Some only hope.
Mutumia wa Kamburu: (stepping forward slowly) And what do the people receive?
(Silence.)
Munene: Stability.
Nyanduma Youth: Or silence?
(Munene looks away. Lights widen slowly. The Ranch now dominates the stage. More cattle. More goats. More wealth. Meanwhile dim lights reveal villages far away; muddy roads, broken schools, sick children, women carrying water. The contrast becomes painful.)
Crowd: Kwamûnene has grown. But Lari villages shrink.
Nyanduma Youth: Schools remain stories. Roads remain speeches. Hospitals remain prayers.
Mutumia wa Kamburu: This ranch eats better than our children.
(The Ranch stands still. Silent. Powerful. Untouchable. Lights shift suddenly. Campaign Period: Campaign posters everywhere. Whispers moving through crowd.)
Crowd: They ask; “Who are you voting for?”
Voices: “The one from Kwamûnene.” “The chosen one.” “The safe choice.” “It is what Munene said.”
Nyanduma Youth: (firmly) But what if we choose differently? What if we try Gichuka Waithera?
(The crowd becomes tense immediately. Fear. Silence. People avoid eye contact.)
Crowd: (softly) Lari ní mataha ma mûkimo……and it is served by Munene.
(At edge of stage Munene stands silently watching. Calm. Confident. Certain.)
Crowd: When power becomes a gate…citizens become visitors. When leaders trade favors for loyalty…the future is mortgaged. Beware of Lari…where votes pass through one home…and democracy waits outside.
(Curtain.)
Scene V — The Church Service
(Church bells. Lights shift to a crowded Pentecostal church. Choir singing loudly. Politicians seated in front row. Cameras everywhere. Pastor Ndolo preaches energetically.)
Pastor Ndolo: Lari needs godly leadership! Amen!
Congregation: Amen!
Pastor Ndolo: Leadership chosen by God! Amen!
Congregation: Amen!
(Mungai nods humbly in front row.)
Pastor Ndolo: Some leaders come with books…others come with wisdom. But a good leader comes from God. Halleluiah. Moses and King David were not educated but they were connected with their people’s daily life.
(Congregation murmurs knowingly.)
Pastor Ndolo: Some people speak good English…but cannot hear the cries of ordinary citizens of Lari. Amen!
Congregation: Amen!
(Gichuka Waithera enters quietly at back of church. No one notices initially.)
Pastor Ndolo: Leadership is spiritual. And we must support leaders who understand the people.
(An usher hands pastor a short note discreetly.)
Pastor Ndolo: Also…our church construction project has received generous support today.
(Applause.)
MC Jay: (talks to himself) Our leader believes in God!
Kamau: (whispering) During elections only.
Pastor Ndolo: Honorable Mungai will now greet the congregation.
(Applause.)
Mungai: Praise God.
Congregation: Amen.
Mungai: (walks to the pulpit) God is good….all the time….The church is the moral foundation of society. Without faith in God, nations collapse. That is why I promise; church support, youth empowerment, women’s programs, and a modern sanctuary.
(Huge applause. Gichuka Waithera watches silently.)
Kamau: (to Gichuka Waithera quietly) Your opponent campaigns using heaven now.
Gichuka Waithera: No. He campaigns using desperation.
Pastor Ndolo: And now… Brother Gichuka Waithera may also greet us briefly.
(Scattered polite applause. Gichuka Waithera walks slowly near pulpit. No music. No chanting. No performance.)
Gichuka Waithera: Thank you. I will not make promises today. I came to worship God like you.
(Congregation becomes uncertain.)
Gichuka Waithera: Because promises are cheap during elections. What matters is working systems. Accountability. Long-term investment. Transparent leadership— (People begin losing attention. Children whisper. Phones emerge. Someone yawns.)
Gichuka Waithera: Development is not an event. It is discipline.
(Weak applause. Mungai studies crowd carefully. He already knows; Gichuka Waithera is losing emotionally.)
Scene VI — The Land of Njûgûma
(Lights rise slowly. A dusty village in Lari. Villagers seated beside the road. Some sharpening njûgûma carefully as though preparing for competition. Others polishing them proudly. The atmosphere is strangely normal. Dangerously normal.)
Mzee Kíhoto: People of Lari…welcome. This is the land where; ideas fear campaigning, logic travels secretly, and njûgûma campaigns freely without posters.
(Soft laughter.)
Nyina wa Wanja: If you complain about roads…someone will threaten you for “disrespecting leadership.”
Wairimu Wa Kaguongo: If you expose corruption…someone will attack you even on Facebook.
Crowd: We defend politicians the way drunkards defend chang’aa; without thinking…and with a lot of shouting.
(Huge laughter.)
Mzee Kíhoto: Ah yes…The real problem of Lari is not poverty of money. It is poverty of thinking. Mental poverty so deep…even Wi-Fi cannot reach it.
(Drums suddenly heard. Whistles. Campaign songs. Dust rising. The arrival of Mungai. Mungai enters dramatically carrying sacks of njûgûma. Behind him the Njûgûma Youth Brigade marches proudly like a political militia.)
Mungai: (singing theatrically) My people! I have brought you what truly matters! Not hospitals! Not water! Not roads! (He opens sack dramatically.) njûgûma!
(Thunderous cheering.)
Njûgûma Youth Brigade: Njûgûma! Njûgûma! Njûgûma!
Mzee Kíhoto: (to audience quietly) Observe carefully. Give a hungry villager food…he may forget you tomorrow. But give him a weapon to defend foolishness…and he becomes loyal permanently.
Nyina wa Wanja: (whispering) Mungai understands these villagers perfectly. Give them books…they return them untouched. Give them critical thinking…they become uncomfortable emotionally. But give them tools for fighting? They begin immediately…and even volunteer overtime.
(Laughter. Lights shift. Gichuka Waithera tries logic. He enters carrying papers and development plans. He stands nervously before villagers.)
Gichuka Waithera: My people…I have a practical plan for; education, clean water, healthcare—
(The Njûgûma Youth Brigade begins yawning aggressively.)
Gichuka Waithera: And also, infrastructure—
(One youth swings njûgûma threateningly through the air like warming up for violence.)
Gichuka Waithera: —and a long-term strategy for—
Njûgûma Youth Brigade: Where is the envelope? Where are the handouts?
Gichuka Waithera: Leadership should not be bought—
Njûgûma Youth Brigade: Booooooo!
Mzee Kíhoto: Ideas struggle greatly in places where brain cells are permanently unemployed and compromised.
(Huge laughter. The crowd slowly surrounds Gichuka Waithera with noise and ridicule. His voice disappears beneath the shouting.
(The Great Njûgûma War. Lights explode into chaos. Villagers now hitting one another senselessly with njûgûma. No real reason. Pure emotional confusion.)
Wairimu wa Kaguongo: Stop fighting! Why are you hitting each other?
Villager 1: He said the roads are poor!
Villager 2: He said Mungai is king of corruption!
Villager 3: He asked where CDF money went!
Villager 4: He said Mungai has no degree!
(They resume hitting each other.)
Mzee Kíhoto: In Lari…using your brain publicly is considered provocation. Anyway, Andû a Lari no maríe mai níguo maheo mbeca.
(Laughter.)
Nyina wa Wanja: Mungai fears only one thing; thinking voters. Because once citizens begin reasoning…handouts stop working.
Crowd: We prefer borrowing Mungai’s brain! Ours are on annual leave!
Mungai: (addressing crowd like a military commander) Remember! If you hear anyone discussing development—confuse them immediately! If you see sober voters - discipline them with village patriotism! And if you see Gichuka Waithera — shout “Western Project!” until he disappears!
Njûgûma Youth Brigade: We obey! We obey! At your service Mheshimiwa. We obey without understanding!
Mzee Kíhoto: Never in history…has obedience looked so foolish.
(Lights dim.)
Mungai: (talking to himself) My poor villagers…thank you for refusing to think. You will make this election wonderfully easy.
Nyina wa Wanja: But sir…our roads—
Mungai: Walk carefully. Barabara ithûkíte kûndû guothe.
Kamau: And corruption?
Mungai: Please stop disturbing me with vocabulary you do not understand.
Crowd: (celebrating wildly) Our leader! Our leader!
(Mzee Kíhoto steps into spotlight. Everything else freezes.)
Mzee Kíhoto: And that, ladies and gentlemen…is how Lari elects its leaders. Not through ideas. Not through vision. Not through wisdom. But through; njûgûma, emotional manipulation, tribal intoxication, and inherited foolishness. (Long silence.) Until the mind is liberated…Lari shall remain the headquarters of; bruised skulls, broken logic, and democratic confusion.
(Lights fade slowly. The sound of njûgûma knocking rhythmically continues in darkness like drums of foolishness.)
Scene VII — The Road Launch
(Huge banner across stage. “Official Launch of Lari Super Highway Phase One.” Drums. Crowds gathered. Government officials wearing reflective jackets. A tiny unfinished road section visible behind them.)
MC Jay: Historic day for Lari! Transformation has arrived!
(Crowd cheers weakly.)
Mzee Kihoto: (aside to audience) That road has been launched four times already. Only the signboard changes.
Government Engineer: This road demonstrates our commitment to modernization.
Kamau: Where does the road end?
Government Engineer: Funding is still processing.
Kamau: So we are launching imagination?
(Laughter. Mungai cuts ribbon covering a cornerstone dramatically. Cameras flash wildly. Music explodes. School children forced to wave flags.)
MC Jay: Development! Development!
Crowd: Development!
(Officials leave rapidly. As cameras move away, workers quietly begin removing equipment. Excavators and Bulldozers leave. Plastic chairs disappear. Tents disappear. Even cornerstone disappear. Dust returns. Silence slowly returns. Only the unfinished road remains. Nyina wa Wanja stares at it.)
Nyina wa Wanja: Every election they build signboards faster than roads.
Scene VIII — The Gift
(Lights rise slowly. Gitithia Secondary School compound. Fresh banners hanging proudly. A shiny yellow school bus stands center stage beneath a massive sign: “Delivering Development.” Women ululating loudly. Students dancing wildly around the bus. Drums. Whistles. Phones recording. The atmosphere resembles a political rally more than a school function.)
Crowd: Look! Look! A bus has come! Steel and paint! A sign of progress!
(Mungai steps forward proudly raising both hands. Photographers surround him. Students forced to clap harder whenever cameras turn.)
Mungai: My people of Lari! From today…our students shall move with dignity! No more suffering! No more long walks! Education must move forward!
Students: Movement! Movement! Movement!
(Huge applause. Women dance harder. Teachers clap politely. The bus horn sounds dramatically.)
Mungai: (turning slightly away, voice lower) Tûrimû tûtû. Let them sing.
(Lights fade slowly. Months later. Same school compound. Different atmosphere. The bus remains parked. Dust covering windows. Grass growing around tires. Silence. Mrs. Ng’ae enters holding worn textbooks and a torn syllabus. She studies the bus quietly.)
Mrs. Ng’ae: We still have; no laboratory, no library, no reagents, no microscopes. Exactly where are we moving to?
MC Jay: Still…the bus was a blessing.
Mrs. Ng’ae: A blessing that never leaves the compound. No fuel budgets. No academic trips. No science fairs. No educational programs. Only photographs.
(Students pass slowly carrying old books. Their uniforms faded. Shoes worn out.)
Student: Teacher…will we ever use the bus?
(Long silence.)
Mrs. Ng’ae: Not for learning.
(Lights shift suddenly. The Journey. Dawn. The same school bus now filled with campaign supporters. Not students. Adults. Campaign goons. Party singers. Whistles. Political banners.)
Campaign Goon: Kirasha today! Sing loudly! Raise dust properly!
(Another bus arrives loudly.)
Voice: Mbauni Secondary School bus to Kirasha!
(Another bus.)
Voice: Kirenga Boys Secondary School bus to Kirasha!
(Crowds multiply rapidly. Noise rising. Political excitement growing.)
Crowd: So many people! He must truly be loved!
(Lights shift rapidly. Another rally. More buses arriving.)
Voice: Kamburu School bus to Githirioni! Kinale Girls School bus to Githirioni! Kijabe School bus to Githirioni!
(The crowds swell again. Flags waving. Dust everywhere. Music deafening. Mungai stands slightly aside watching quietly. Arms folded. Cold. Calculating.)
Mungai: (softly to himself) Crowds are not people. They are pictures. Pictures for newspapers. Pictures for television. Pictures for manipulation.
(The cheers drown his words. The realization. Evening. A small group of teachers and parents seated beneath a tree. Quiet. Reflective. No music now. Only tiredness.)
Mrs. Ng’ae: We celebrated metal…instead of minds.
Parent: We counted buses…instead of books.
Pastor Wakweri: We confused movement with development.
(Long silence.)
Mzee Kihoto: (slowly) The buses moved…but the children did not.
(Lights isolate Mungai standing alone.)
Mungai: I did not deceive them. I simply gave them what they understand; noise, color, movement, excitement. Knowledge does not vote. Crowds do.
(He exits slowly. The school bus remains alone under dim light. Silent. Unused. Symbolic.)
Mzee Kihoto: Beware of leaders who give; wheels without roads, vehicles without destinations, movement without purpose. For when school buses become campaign tools… children become passengers in journeys never meant for them.
(Lights fade slowly. The distant sound of campaign music returns faintly. Then silence.)
Scene IX — Gichuka Waithera Exhausted
(Night. A quiet roadside. Distant dogs barking. Election posters fluttering. Gichuka Waithera sits exhausted. Mzee Kihoto approaches slowly.)
Mzee Kihoto: You look defeated already.
Gichuka Waithera: I thought truth mattered.
Mzee Kihoto: Truth matters. Eventually. But elections happen immediately.
(Pause.)
Gichuka Waithera: How do you win hungry pople?
Mzee Kihoto: First understand people are not always voting for better leadership. Sometimes they are voting for familiarity. For tribe. For survival. For visibility. For emotional comfort.
Gichuka Waithera: So what chance does integrity have?
Mzee Kihoto: Integrity without emotional intelligence becomes arrogance. You speak to people’s minds. Mungai speaks to hunger wounds.
(Long silence.)
Gichuka Waithera: Then maybe in Lari having good leadership is unfeasible.
Mzee Kihoto: No. leadership reflects its people honestly. That is why it frightens us.
(Lights dim slowly. And somewhere in the darkness…the circus kept growing.)
