ACT IV — THE REGRET
Scene I — Six Months Later
(Darkness. Slow sounds emerge. Wind. Metal sheets rattling. Distant coughing. A leaking tap dripping rhythmically. No campaign music. No whistles. No convoys. Only ordinary struggle. Lights rise slowly. The market looks older now. Dustier. Tired. Campaign posters hang in torn fragments from poles. Mungai’s smiling face is faded and peeling. The unfinished road remains unfinished. Potholes larger. Nyina wa Wanja sits quietly beside nearly empty baskets. Business is slow. Very slow. Kamau enters carrying a worn jerrycan. He looks thinner. Less energetic. Less sarcastic.)
Nyina wa Wanja: You disappeared.
Kamau: Water queue at the river. Three hours. The borehole stopped again. The electricity bill is not paid.
Nyina wa Wanja: Any job?
Kamau: Only promises. Those remain fully employed.
(A weak laugh.)
Nyina wa Wanja: At least your leader won.
Kamau: Do not start. I already regret professionally every morning.
(Silence.)
Kamau: Did you hear the dispensary ran out of medical supplies again?
Nyina wa Wanja: Again?
Kamau: Now patients bring; gloves, syringes, painkillers, hope, and sometimes their own chairs.
Nyina wa Wanja: Lari is dying slowly. It is in hospice unit.
(Long silence.)
Scene II — The People and Their Hunger
(Matimbei village. Dust moving slowly through the air. Villagers gathered angrily beside a broken road. The atmosphere is tense.)
Crowd: (overlapping voices) Mungai has failed us! The roads are terrible! Dispensaries do not work! Schools are collapsing! Even sewage now travels faster than development!
Mzee Kihoto: And so the people spoke loudly. Certain; of the villain, of the failure, and of the blame.
(Mungai enters slowly carrying a small sack of maize. No bodyguards. No convoy. Only tiredness.)
Mungai: You accuse me of hating development. You say: I rejected roads, neglected hospitals, abandoned schools. But answer me honestly.
(He studies them quietly.)
Mungai: When I spoke about roads…what did you tell me?
Crowd: (immediately defensive) We do not eat roads!
(Long silence.)
Mzee Kihoto: And there…buried inside one sentence stood the tragedy of Lari roads.
(Lights shift slowly. Elders seated beneath a tree at Mbau-ini. Gichuka Waithera stands quietly nearby listening.)
Mzee Kihoto: Every future knocked politely. Every idea requested entry. But each vision was judged: not by long-term value—but by immediate appetite.
Mungai: I said; “Let us repair dispensaries.” And you answered—
Elder One: We already have Kijabe Hospital nearby.
Mungai: I said; “Let us strengthen schools.” And you replied—
Elder Two: Gíthomo ti thuruarí. Education changes nothing.
(Mungai lowers head briefly.)
Mungai: So eventually…I asked myself; why construct what people themselves despise?
(Kongothiria village. Food distribution begins. Immediately the atmosphere changes. Smiles return. Energy returns. Hope returns temporarily.)
Crowd: (smiling warmly now) Mûndû witû! Our person! He understands us! He feeds us!
Mzee Kihoto: And suddenly…roads became: rice. Hospitals became: handouts. Schools became: sacks of maize.
Mungai: (quietly aside) They demanded survival today. And so…I surrendered tomorrow completely.
(Gichuka Waithera steps forward slowly.)
Gichuka Waithera: You are not poor because of land. You are poor because of your heart desires. You prefer what fills the mouth—instead of what builds the future.
Crowd: (hostile immediately) Why insult us? Have you ever fed us?
Gichuka Waithera: No.
Crowd: Then leave us. Tûtitaragwo ithuí.
Gichuka Waithera: I wanted to bring; roads, hospitals, schools. Systems that work. Not for us only but also for our generations. But envelopes… handouts…. Temporary comfort…. Gave birth to the current Lari.
(Heavy silence.)
Mzee Kihoto: They knew he spoke truth. And truth becomes dangerous…when it exposes comfortable habits.
(Lights soften. A child tugs gently at an Elder’s robe.)
Child: Grandfather, why are our leaders mute in parliament and county assemblies? Why do fire engines fail to reach homes that catch fire? Why are our schools without facilities and enough teachers?
(The Elder cannot answer. Looks away slowly.)
Mzee Kihoto: Children ask questions adults survive by avoiding.
(Lights shift sharply. Mungai and Gichuka Waithera face one another directly. No crowd now. Only honesty.)
Mungai: Do you think I do not understand the Lari problems? These people punish ideas. But reward gifts. To govern them peacefully…one must feed them first.
Gichuka Waithera: And in doing so…you trained them to remain hungry forever.
(Long silence.)
Mzee Kihoto: Mungai was not the disease. He was merely the symptom. The sickness was in the people. Always choosing wrongly.
Crowd: (softly now) We deserve; roads, hospitals, schools.
(Pause. stronger, painfully honest) But handouts will still win.
(Lights dim slowly until only the Child remains visible.)
Child: What happens…when eventually nobody remains willing to give handouts anymore?
Mzee Kihoto: A new breed of leaders will lead Lari. But that won’t happen in the near future…
(Blackout.)
Scene III — The Roads
(Lights shift. Villagers struggle pushing a broken vehicle through mud. Rainwater fills deep potholes. Children walk barefoot carefully carrying shoes on their hands. A pregnant woman struggles across stage.)
Driver: Push! Push!
(Several villagers strain together.)
Elder: This road was launched four times.
Villager: And abandoned five times.
(Laughter mixed with frustration.)
Woman: Where is the MP now?
Elder: In Nairobi discussing development on television.
(The vehicle becomes stuck again.)
Driver: Eh God! Remember us!
(Villagers eventually stop pushing. Exhausted. Defeated.)
Kamau: You know what hurts most? Not bad leadership. But predictable bad leadership. Before every election we know exactly what will happen. And still we repeat it.
Elder: Because memory is short when hunger is long.
(Mzee Kihoto enters slowly holding old campaign poster.)
Mzee Kihoto: This poster once promised transformation. Now even the rain is removing its lies.
(He tears poster slowly.)
Scene IV — The Shovels of Lari
(Early morning on a muddy road in Rukuma. Sounds of heavy rain fading slowly. Shoes sinking into mud. Water dripping from iron roofs. A vehicle engine struggling somewhere offstage. People grunting while pushing something heavy.)
Mzee Kihoto: In Lari, public services do not break during elections. No. During elections, they work or seem to work. But they break after elections. That is when promises melt into mud.
(Enter villagers carrying; shovels, wheelbarrows, stones, jembes, sacks of soil. They move with painful familiarity, like people repeating an old ritual.)
Youth Leader: Come quickly! The cabbage lorry got stuck again!
Crowd: Bring stones! Bring leaves! Bring jembes!
Woman from Kirenga: Yesterday we repaired this road!
Youth Leader: And today the rain voted against us again.
(Laughter mixed with frustration.)
Mzee Kihoto: From Lari/Kirenga to Kijabe…From Nyanduma to Kamburu…From Kijabe to Kinale…the people have become their own government. But the leaders says, “barabara ithûkíte kûndû guothe.”
(Villagers begin filling potholes. Some shovel mud. Others push stones and fresh leaves into water. Children help silently. Everything feels too familiar.)
Young Boy: Why are we always the ones fixing the road?
Mzee Kihoto: Because if we wait for the county or national government…your beard will grow and be grey before it is repaired.
Crowd: Eh! True! True!
Woman from Kirenga: At least we are helping ourselves.
(Pause.)
Mzee Kihoto: And that…is how noble suffering becomes permanent policy. The leaders know you will fix your problems on your own.
(Lights shift slowly. Inside the MCA’s Office. A clean office. Soft music. Tea being poured. Comfortable chairs. Laughter. The contrast with the muddy road feels painful.)
Ward MCA: How is the ground situation?
Buroga: Excellent.
Ward MCA: Excellent?
Buroga: The people repaired the roads themselves.
Ward MCA: Wonderful citizens.
Buroga: The traders unclogged the sewer too.
Ward MCA: Responsible people.
Buroga: And the market women collected garbage money again.
Ward MCA: Development-minded voters.
(They laugh comfortably. Lights shift back outside. The villagers are still struggling in mud. Still pushing. Still sweating.)
Mzee Kihoto: The leaders sleep peacefully because the people have volunteered to suffer quietly.
Tenant: We contributed money again yesterday.
Nyina wa Wanja: We bought gloves and cleaned the market ourselves.
Tenant: The sewer blocked again this morning.
Nyina wa Wanja: The smell now has its own address.
(Laughter.)
Tenant: Why do we keep doing government work?
(Silence.)
(At Kagwe Market. Garbage piled nearby. Flies buzzing loudly. Dirty water flowing beside vegetables.)
Nyina wa Wanja: Move that cabbage away from the sewage water!
Woman from Kirenga: We should organize another cleaning day.
Gichuka Waithera: No.
(Silence.)
Crowd: No?
Gichuka Waithera: Yaah. Let the garbage stay.
(Shock.)
Tenant: Kiongozi… people will complain.
Gichuka Waithera: Good.
Woman from Kirenga: Children may get sick.
Gichuka Waithera: And maybe then the leaders will remember you exist. Lari leaders are awakened by chaos.
Youth Leader: But helping ourselves is unity.
Gichuka Waithera: No. It is soothing voters’ bitterness and helping leaders escape responsibility.
(Pause.)
Mzee Kihoto: The words fell heavily. Like rain on iron sheets.
Tenant: So what should we do? Leave roads muddy?
Gichuka Waithera: Yes.
Nyina wa Wanja: Leave sewers clogged?
Gichuka Waithera: Yes.
Woman from Kirenga: Allow garbage everywhere?
Gichuka Waithera: Yes…until embarrassment becomes louder than our silence. Until neglect becomes political. Until leadership failure can no longer hide behind your endurance.
(Long silence. Thunder rumbles in distance. Heavy rain begins again. Cars stuck. People trapped. Mud everywhere.)
Voice of The Rain: You covered potholes…but you covered leadership failure too.
Crowd: The road is gone! The bridge is flooded!
Young Boy: Where is the MCA?
(Silence.)
Mzee Kihoto: During campaigns, leaders arrive before sunrise. During floods…even their phones drown.
(Villagers gather slowly. No one working now. No shovels moving. No one volunteering. Only anger.)
Tenant: No more garbage contributions.
Nyina wa Wanja: No more carrying medical supplies to dispensaries.
Woman from Kirenga: No more buying stones for roads.
Youth Leader: Then what do we do?
Gichuka Waithera: We complain loudly. Publicly. Relentlessly.
Mzee Kihoto: For the first time…the people discovered that bitterness could also become political language.
(Campaign music suddenly heard in distance. A convoy approaches.)
Ward MCA (offstage): My people! My hardworking people!
(No cheers.)
Ward MCA: Why are the roads so bad?
Crowd: Because you are the leader.
(Silence.)
Buroga: Why is garbage everywhere?
Nyina wa Wanja: Because we stopped doing your job.
Ward MCA: Why didn’t you unclog the sewer?
Tenant: We already elected people for that.
(Long silence.)
Mzee Kihoto: And suddenly…the mud became political. The garbage became political. The smell became political.
Gichuka Waithera: Bitterness is dangerous only when it sleeps.
Woman from Kirenga: And dignity begins the day people stop normalizing neglect.
(The villagers stand silently beside the flooded road. No shovels. No wheelbarrows. No stones. Only silence.)
Young Boy: Will the road be repaired?
Mzee Kihoto: Eventually.
Young Boy: By who?
(Long silence.)
Crowd: By those elected to repair it.
(Thunder in distance.)
Mzee Kihoto: Lari people were never poor in strength. Only too hungry for handouts. And willing to do what the government is supposed to do.
(Curtain falls slowly. Silence. Then distant sounds of rain…and sinking tires.)
Scene V — Mungai’s Office
(Sharp lighting contrast. Modern office. Leather chairs. Air conditioning hum. Imported bottled water. Flat-screen television playing news. The world here feels completely disconnected from Lari villages scenes. Mungai sits confidently in expensive suit.MC Jay enters nervously with files.)
MC Jay: People are complaining again.
Mungai: People vent. People complain. Continue.
MC Jay: The dispensary issue is growing online. Roads too. And youth unemployment—
Mungai: What are the headlines today?
MC Jay: Mostly criticism.
Mungai: Good. Attention means relevance. Silence is more dangerous politically.
MC Jay: Should we respond?
Mungai: Of course. Announce; ministry officials are on the ground, a public participation is next week, and a youth empowerment summit is next month.
MC Jay: But nothing will happen.
Mungai: Exactly. But announcements create emotional ventilation. People do not always need solutions. Sometimes they only need the performance of concern.
(Silence. Even MC Jay is disturbed now.)
MC Jay: Do you ever feel guilty?
(Pause. Mungai studies him carefully.)
Mungai: Guilty? My friend…I did not invent this system. I only mastered it. People say they want honesty. But honesty is unpopular during suffering. Truth is slow. Handouts are immediate. Emotion is immediate. Tribal comfort is immediate. Fear is immediate. And elections are won immediately.
(Long silence.)
Mungai: You still think politics is morality. No. Politics is public appetite management and leader’s self-interest.
(Lights dim.)
Scene VI — Kimende Market Again
(Late afternoon. Kimende market again. Quieter than before. Gichuka Waithera walks through slowly. No campaign posters. No slogans. No ambition. Just observation. People notice him awkwardly.)
Woman: That is Gichuka Waithera.
Man: The one who lost.
Woman: The one who told the truth.
(Nyina wa Wanja approaches carefully.)
Nyina wa Wanja: You came back my son.
Gichuka Waithera: No. I am on the way to see my aunt.
Nyina wa Wanja: I thought you are back and most politicians disappear after elections. Because they never belonged from the beginning.
Gichuka Waithera: I am not campaigning anymore. But I can listen and watch what is going on.
(Pause.)
Kamau: We failed you.
Gichuka Waithera: No. You cuddled hunger more than ideas. That is human.
Kamau: Still…you were right.
Gichuka Waithera: Being right is politically useless if people cannot emotionally afford your truth.
(Silence.)
Nyina wa Wanja: Do you hate Lari people now?
Gichuka Waithera: No. I understand them better. Poverty changes decision-making. A starving man does not debate philosophy. He negotiates about food first.
Elder: Then what hope remains?
(Long silence.)
Gichuka Waithera: Suffering. Memory resurrection. Habit change. And changing bulls that have ever mounted Lari.
(The others listen quietly.)
Kamau: But people are tired.
Gichuka Waithera: Yes. And tired people become dangerous to bad leadership. Because eventually they stop believing improvement is possible.
Scene VII — The Funeral
(Night. A funeral gathering. Dim lanterns. Rain threatening. Mourners seated silently. A child has died because treatment came too late. No speeches initially. Only grief.)
Woman Mourner: The ambulance never came.
Man: Fuel shortage.
Woman: Always shortages for poor people.
(Long silence.)
Pastor Ndolo: God gives and God takes away—
Nyina wa Wanja: Stop.
(Everyone shocked.)
Nyina wa Wanja: Every funeral we blame heaven for failures created on earth. Children are dying while politicians launch billboards. Even village dispensaries collapse while leaders buy convoys. Roads disappear while campaigns become concerts. Fire engines are nowhere to be seen. And we continue dancing every election season like memory itself is cursed!
(Silence.)
Kamau: We sold our votes…then bought our suffering back slowly.
(Mzee Kihoto rises painfully.)
Mzee Kihoto: No. You sold more than votes. You sold accountability. You sold standards. You sold tomorrow. And every election…you pray regret will somehow become development.
(Heavy silence. Distant campaign music suddenly heard faintly again. Very faint. But unmistakable. Everyone freezes.)
Elder: Already?
Kamau: Another election?
Nyina wa Wanja: So soon?
Mzee Kihoto: No. Not soon. The circus never actually leaves. It only rests.
(Lights dim slowly. The faint campaign music grows louder in darkness. Like a curse returning.)
