A Patriotic Call to Sifuna
My dear brother Sifuna,
As our Luhyia saying goes, “Kali amaanula, kali ematecha” — when you arm yourself for war, be ready to defend the crown. Leadership is not decoration; it is duty. When one accepts the spear, one must also accept the shield.
In Bukusuland, when a young man decides to face the knife, he does not do it silently. He first takes the chinyimba (bells) and the firimbi (whistle) and announces to relatives, neighbors, and friends that he is ready. It is a public declaration: I am of age. I am prepared. Witness me.
But we all know that the journey to the riverbank is not a stroll in the park.
It is harrowing.
You walk long distances barefoot. You are mocked, spat on, tested. Hot slaps may land on your cheeks, and you are not allowed to blink. You do not respond to side shows. You do not trade insults. You do not break rank. Then comes khuminya — when others are wrapped in jackets, sweaters, and boots, they drill you through the night with songs and dances. It is both celebration and trial. You are stripped, smeared with cold mud at dawn, taken to khuluyia. And in that defining moment, if you panic, the ridicule will echo for a lifetime. But if you stand firm — unshaken, unblinking — you return not as a boy, but as a hero.
Sifuna mwana wa papa, wananchi have rung the bells for you.
They have called you to the riverbank of our time. They have chosen to rally behind you in defiance of a system that has taxed them into silence, burdened them into vulnerability, and excluded them from opportunity. You now stand at the head of that procession.
And let us be honest — the kingdom of this world can be a kingdom of darkness. When you challenge entrenched systems, you should expect resistance. Expect the mockery. Expect the cold mud. Expect the long night of khuminya. But do not blink.
Speak the language of mwananchi. Represent their hopes, not elite comfort. Listen to the market woman, the boda rider, the unemployed graduate, the small trader suffocating under taxes and rising costs. They are not statistics; they are citizens.
This struggle did not begin yesterday. It retraces its roots to colonialism — a force that did more than redraw borders. It reshaped our political systems, economic structures, land ownership patterns, and governance culture. It centralized power, extracted resources, and built institutions designed for control rather than accountability. Today, the structural inequalities we confront — debt dependency, extractive economic models, elite-centered governance, weak public institutions — are echoes of that unfinished history.
The Gen Z movement in Kenya is not fighting government for the sake of fighting. It is confronting the unfinished consequences of colonial systems — systems that normalized inequality, centralized power, and disconnected leadership from citizens. This generation is demanding the completion of true independence: economic dignity, accountable governance, and citizen-centered democracy.
Remember, this is a generation that is educated, informed, and globally connected — yet facing unemployment, rising costs of living, shrinking opportunities, and increasing public debt they did not create but are expected to repay. That contradiction is not lost on them.
We stand at a crossroads. Either we normalize corruption and exclusion, or we redefine civic participation in our country. Either we blink — or we stand firm.
Let us demand leadership that reflects the aspirations of a youthful nation. Let us demand accountability in how public resources are used and transparency in how decisions are made. Let us turn social media into civic classrooms — translating complex policy into accessible language. Let us turn hashtags into town halls, frustration into civic action, and fear into solidarity.
Sifuna, when the drums beat and the whistles blow, remember the Bukusu initiate at dawn. The crowd may test you. The cold may bite. The night may be long. But history celebrates those who stood still when it mattered most.Do not blink.
The crown you defend is not personal ambition — it is the dignity of wananchi.
And when this season passes, may you not just have survived the riverbank, but emerged from it as a leader worthy of celebration.
~ Peter Chapesa ~
