THE STORIES UNTOLD

I happened to have listened and hitherto watched Juliani's symphony; utawala. This is a song that was produced in 2014 to lament and critique the poor governance streak that had rocked the country. It came at a time when corruption had soared to the zenith. When Kenyans were living in deplorable conditions. When Injustices were being meted upon the citizenry without measure. Juliani stood up against those atrocities. Four years later, Kenya is still the same. Money laundering in government parastatals has not changed a bit. As a matter of fact, its worse now. Corruption still lurks within us. Sadly, it has even eaten deep into our social protectors;agencies and bodies that we're supposed to look up to in the condemnation of such. Parliament, City Hall and Kenya Power are just but a few of the quotable victims. The people of Kenya are suffering in the vicinity of leaders whose sole bother is how and when to enrich themselves! Abomination! People die under evitable circumsta

Kapsabet Boys High School.                                                                                           19/07/2018                         Thursday, the 19th day of July 2018 Its 12:30pm. Some form one class representative is sent to my class, form 3Beta to call one Caleb Oira. That happens to be me of course. You see, in my school, such summons are not common. But when they do happen, something's up. Something real big and serious. Its either some lousy teacher has called your parent to school and you're thus asked to go and meet them or the ever mean deputy principal has come across your 'case files' and deems to give you one hell of a punishment or a suspension hitherto. But neither of those are the case for me. Why would my parent be called to school when I'm not the best of the worst? And why on this freaking earth would I be given uncalled for summons by 'Solo' when its conventional knowledge that there's no better di

                                                                                                                                            15/08/2018 My fellow countrymen, I seek to take you down memory lane to such a period in the preceding year. I wish to evoke the grim portraits that defined our nation just one year prior to today. At such a time yesteryear, we held elections. Elections that were characterized by anarchy, mayhem, unrest and loss of lives as well as property. And, normal as it may seem, people agonised. I, for a moment, reckon of a one baby Pendo. A harmless little infant without blemish of character. She was clobbered to her untimely demise by brutes whom we pride in calling peacekeepers. It was death by deliberate action. My learned friends would attribute that to murder. Who on this cosmos had the slightest of ideas on what fate had destined for her? Maybe she was a designated esquire; the calibre of Orengo and Kilonzo. Or maybe, better still, she was an or

Borne of peasants And bred in utter poverty He knew the bitters and sours of life Poor boy from the countryside For shunning falsehood And proclaiming truth He was accused of the revolutionary spirit And ostracized from his kindred His only crime,they claimed Was admonishing royalty And soliciting justice In a havoc wreaked society Predicament after the other The boy knew naw peace For it is what he was A stirrer of trouble But like the caged falcon Which said to its falconer That freedom was inevitable So did the boy from the countryside. oiraqaleb esq.