Hi big Uncle in Nairobi,
the city capital, home of power,
home of your power,
I know I will see you tomorrow in church,
on television of course,
It has become our faithful meeting point,
I am down in ushago,
where you came last four years ago.
I remember running after your white Jeep,
fueling my lungs with white dust,
dust from the same road you promised to build,
I bet you couldn't feel the bumps,
and the holes the size of pots,
That Jeep is bump-proof I say.
I attended all your rallies,
those far and near,
I know I wasn't of age,
but the cash needed no voter's card,
hungry mouths queued up,
and you fed them with a five year salary,
-just some penny to last a day-
and let them drink your promises,
loud and confident,
convincing and patriotic.
I remember you carrying me,
and made me feel like Jesus himself was present,
for you said you loved kids,
and would expand our playground.
Is it the same ground with your mall?
Big Uncle tell me,
Last week I heard your name in three scandals,
yet in parliament you are invisible,
I heard you wanted a bigger seat,
I don't know whether the money will be bigger this time,
It seems a losing battle for me,
You said we have the power,
sweet white lies to lure us into transferring it to you.
Please Big Uncle,
when you come next in 2017,
Don't come with a bag of rice,
and leave a fight behind -
come with lorries of food, food to last half a decade,
don't come with change of fifty notes,
come with huge safes of money,
I know you have saved billions,
Don't come with promises,
stay in Nairobi and send a video,
a video of even three of your developments,
because we don't want to see you in a month,
and hear of you in 59.
You see, big Uncle,
you promised jobs,
yet day by day we donate to betting companies
the little we've earned,
with hope of making it easy,
You see big Uncle,
That lady you promised Indian medication
during that church Harambee,
she died, crying out your name,
she was buried in hushes,
but her wails still linger,
and the church is yet to be finished,
we are still waiting for your cheque.
You see Big Uncle,
We are waiting for you,
I know today it will rain,
and tomorrow the road will be a farm.
I hope when I see you in church
God will whisper my plea to you,
I pray He will also send a vision
To that pastor of yours who praises you,
That same guy who you tithe the CDF funds to.
I pray that when you sit at the front seat,
it wont be to show off your Italian suit,
but to bring yourself closer to God.