There are two agendas being pushed at the same time and what amazes me is how most people don’t see it.
The first agenda: the viral videos and photos mocking Raila Odinga Jnr.
At face value, it looks like people being insensitive or childish online. But if you look closer, it’s a calculated psychological operation meant to prepare you, to soften your resistance, for the Computer Misuse and Cybercrime (Amendment) Bill, 2024.
They want you to be outraged enough to say, “Take those videos down!”
They want you to willingly call for censorship, to beg for regulation, to cry for control. That is how manufactured consent works.
They make you feel like you’re making a moral choice, when in reality, you’re giving them permission to police your speech, your thoughts, your digital space.
It is shameful to mock anyone with a disability. Society has always known that.
Long before government bills and online outrage, that punishment existed naturally and socially.
Nature has its own way of punishing cruelty — often by giving the cruel something equally heavy to carry.
And socially, such mockery has always been taboo. But now, in the age of moral decay and shallow trends, you’ve baptized mockery as “dark humor.”
There was a time when even our art corrected us:
“Ukiona mtu ni kilema, baba,
Ukiona mtu ni kilema, mama,
Wacha kucheka, kesho ni kwako,
Wacha kucheka, utazaa kilema.”
That song was not just a melody. It was a mirror of conscience.
Now, that conscience is being manipulated — your compassion being used as a tool of control.
The goal is to amplify outrage so that there’s no resistance when new laws, quietly designed to silence dissent, are passed.
You’ll think you’re defending decency, but you’ll be defending tyranny in disguise.
The second agenda: Governor Mutahi Kahiga’s remarks.
Here again, you all know what’s going on, but many will still pretend not to.
His utterance was despicable, yes, but the intent behind the timing and amplification is even worse.
Ask yourself: Who benefits most from this kind of ethnic provocation?
If you pay attention, you’ll see a familiar pattern. A rift is being engineered, deliberately, to prevent two major communities from ever sitting at the same table.
The irony is that many in the political class from both sides have intermarried, dine together, and laugh at your outrage.
The architects of division know that if Kenyans unite on class and conscience, if you ever decide to speak with one voice, their empires crumble overnight.
So they light a fire between tribes, feed you anger, and then hide behind the smoke while signing new laws and sealing new deals.
You’ll spend weeks debating the words of one misguided messenger, while the real enemies of progress keep cashing in on your distractions.
This isn’t new anything new. It’s Divide and Rule 101.
You think you’re reacting to events, but they’re designing your reactions.
You think you’re watching coincidences, but you’re witnessing choreography.
As for me, I see it clearly. Langu huwa jicho ila nawaona kabisa.
And until you start listening, really listening, Kenyan politics will keep repeating the same script, just with different actors.
The system survives not because it’s powerful, but because the people are divided and distracted. Wake up before the smoke becomes your reality.