A Letter To WILLIAM RUTO From A Concerned Kenyan.

Dear Bill, you and i have a lot in common. Your father and my mother are from the Kipsigis clan. Once upon a time, i considered you my hero. I wanted to be like you. Lately though, i prefer to refer to you as ‘’yule mjamaa wa mashake, mamei, matusi, na wa kulialia’’. Don’t take it badly. It’s a title you rightly earned from your activities. It’s a fact. Hakuna matusi hapo. You have disappointed me big time.

I have just come across several updates on twitter and FB concerning your son’s alleged performance in the KCPE exams. The updates are all over. People are making fun of him and you. They are calling him as stupid as his father. Personally, i have no stomach for people who attack other people’s wives and children. Our wives, mothers, sisters, girlfriends, and kids are off-limits. That is my eternal principle. I don’t believe the story is true, though. Even if it were, i honestly don’t care. The boy is still a child. He has barely set off on the journey of life. I trust, pray and believe that he will recover, and become a very successful person. I know many people who performed very, very poorly in school but, are stinking rich right now. They recovered in time, and put their street-smart talents into good use. They never broke the law. They simply worked hard. I know your son will end up well, and you will be very proud of him. I know that for a fact. A very good example is your boss. He did very poorly at St. Mary’s. That didn’t stop him from joining Amherst College in the US. Still, while at Amherst, he allowed his social habits to interfere with his performance in school. He failed miserably while there. Actually, he never cleared. Still, he managed to graduate, and currently occupies the most powerful office in the country. His mother is very proud of him, as she should rightly be. A minor proclivity should not signify the end of life. It should push us to try harder. I know your son will do the same, Bill

However, i do not believe that the jokes about your son are directed at him. People are not being spiteful because they hate your son. They are doing it because of you. They hate you. Watu hawakupendi, ndugu. Tabia zako ni mbovu. Your bad behaviour is making your family a target of hate. I have 3 little babies, and i know that, in order to ensure their safety, i must relate well with my neighbours. But, you obviously don’t know that. Every time you open your mouth at a public function, you make more enemies. I just got back from the coast, that’s my rural area. I heard that you were there, and you left a stinking odour upon your departure. People say that you went there to beat your chest and make more enemies. They say you do not respect them. That’s bad, Bill; very bad. I also hear that you did the same thing while in Western province recently. Like i said, you have let me down big time. You occupy a very important office. That office gives you an opportunity to bring people together. Instead, you use it to cause divisions, hatred and acrimony every time you open your mouth. Many people switch channels on their TV screens every time you appear. They know you will say nothing of substance.

Do you remember Joseph Kamotho, Brother Bill? Do you remember how he used to parrot at the peak of his career? Where is he now? Do you remember how his career ended? Do you know that, if you asked a level 5 kid who Joseph Kamotho is, they would stare back at you, clueless? But, do you know that, even a level 2 kid knows who Jaramogi is? Ask yourself why, Bill. You are headed in Kamotho’s direction. Sorry to say that, but it’s as clear as daylight. No one will remember you, except of course for your wife. That’s why i love women, Bill. They still love us, and cherish our memories, even when the entire world brands us as jackasses.

I remember watching you and your boss on the lawns of the Big House, clad in similar shirts, ties, trousers, and shoes. It was a nice picture. I may not like either of you, but i loved that picture. It showed me two good friends. I suspect that it was your idea. Your boss is not the emotional type. That could only have come from you. Lately though, that picture has never recurred. Why has it not happened again? I know why, Bill. It’s because your influence on him is waning very fast. Others have his ear now. He cares less about your opinion. That should scare you. But, i suspect you already know that. You know that he’s cheating on you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You sold your soul to the devil, and the devil has come back to collect.

I feel sorry for you, Ndugu Bill. Your position is not a place i would wish to be in. No matter how hard you try to convince the world that everything is cosy, your body language says something totally different. The confidence is gone. The decisive swing of the hand has been replaced by a slight drop of the shoulders. Your voice inspires very few with confidence. You are stuck in a dark place, and are afraid that, if you ventured out, you would meet a crowd of people waiting to laugh at you and mock you. It is truly sad. However, the split between you and your boss is coming, Bill. Upende, usipende. You can’t stop it, no matter how much you try to convince yourself that it will never happen. My papa always tells us that, ‘’Jogoo mjinga hufikiri asipowika, jua halitachomoza’’......Figure it out, Brother.

But it shouldn’t be. All is not lost, my friend. You have a chance to redeem your bruised and tattered reputation. You have a chance to write your name afresh in the annals of history; a chance to help our babies remember you. Use that chance now, Bill. Admit that you were wrong. Admit that you were played. Look up at the heavens, and seek grace.

Dear Bill, an admission of a mistake does not make you weak. It is the only way you will revive your political career. Do it now, and history will remember you. History will talk of a man who stood up for what is right, in order to correct a grievous mistake. History will remember Bill The Man; the man who was bold enough to proclaim to the world, ‘’Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa’’.

Your Faithful Brother, 
Baba Alex.

NB: This a guest post and opinions are writer's own and not binding to NE's