I am tempted to start a movement to tell people that it is OK not to vote. At least in this country. I badly want to believe our votes count, that our votes can change things, but I am shown every day that they do not. There seems to be a disconnect between what should happen and what we know happens, and keeps happening. And voting does not seem to cure this.
New leaders are elected based on their loyalty to some bigwigs rather than the strength of their visions. Sometimes a winning candidate gathers votes that number more than total registered voters in a polling station. For us young people, voter apathy isn’t due to defiance or ignorance, we are tired. Most of us no longer care.
Election malpractice and the refusal to accept defeat is as Kenyan as corruption and long-distance running. For many, August 9 will simply be another holiday. You tell me I should vote because it is my civic right. Rights, rights, rights. The right to a clean environment but Muthurwa market is an eyesore smack in the heart of the city? Right to quality, affordable healthcare but I still buy Paracetamol at the chemist owned by the same doctor who works at the County Referral Hospital who told me, “Hakuna dawa sista?” Those kinds of rights?
I will tell you why I won’t bother. The same electoral body that lost a landmark case at the Supreme Court for failing in their mandate during the last elections is still with us. The same politicians who’ve previously been accused of grand theft will be on the ballot. Imagine preparing white rice in a dirty pot. How white is the rice likely to be?
Older folk keep talking about how Sh100 was so much money back in the day. Now it is only useful at Mama Mboga’s kiosk, or for nduthi fare, or for the millions of youth who have turned to cheap liquor due to unemployment. I am choosing not to vote because as much as I want change, I am too hungry to fight for it right.
Perhaps one day, when my children are working and I have repaid my HELB loan and bread is Sh50 again. I want change but I am too tired from journeying all the way to Butere to see my grandmother. The roads are so poor I arrive with an aching back.
Maybe one day, when either corruption or ‘knowing someone’ or hard work, or all three will dig me out this hole, we can discuss change. Right now I am too stressed about how much I need to pay this someone (who’s probably a conman) to get that government job.
I need to repay the loan I took seven years ago for an education who’s fruits I am yet to enjoy. And the Sh1,000 my mother sent me last year that I haven’t paid back. And the Tala, Zenka and Okash loans on my name. Vote for what? No, thank you. I won’t cosy up to someone I only on TV. No. I’d rather watch Dynasty on repeat. Should there be an opportunity, however, for me to be a clerk in any polling station, count me in. Because I need that money. BY DAILY NATION