This Is What It Means to Be Kenyan Right Now #sirininumbers
Being Kenyan right now
means eating teargas like breakfast.
Means your lungs burn,
but your spirit don’t.
It means leaving the house with a goodbye
that feels a little too heavy.
Like maybe today,
you don’t come back.
It means knowing a Subaru can pull up anytime,
no number plates, no warning
and just like that,
you vanish.
It means tweeting with your hands shaking,
speaking truth with your face half covered,
marching even when your legs are screaming “no,”
but your heart says, “ kaende kaende”
Because how long can we stay quiet?
How long can we clap for thieves
and pray our kids grow up free
in a country that chokes us
just for asking “why?”
They want us scared.
But we’ve seen too much.
We’ve buried too many.
We’ve paid the price already
in hunger, in shame, in silence.
So we rise.
Teargas in our eyes,
but vision never clearer.
Gunshots in the air,
but hearts steady.
They can beat us,
they can drag us,
they can call us names
but they can’t kill all of us.
Because we’re not just angry.
We’re tired.
We’re fed up.
We’re awake.
This isn’t just protest
this is heartbreak turned into fire.
This is love for a country
that keeps breaking us,
but we refuse to let go.
This is what it means to be Kenyan right now
It means fear is real,
but courage is louder.