JAMILA'S MEMO: April Fools extended

Someone forwarded that to me and it made me think of a few things. The 1st of April is, for many, known as April Fools’ Day; a day for pranks and jokes.

A day when even newspapers and media houses sometimes run outrageous headlines that leave people asking: Is this true? How is that even possible? Only for someone to come out a few hours later and say: Psyche! Gotcha!

But here in Kenya, it increasingly feels as though we, the citizens, are living in a permanent state of April Fools. Especially when it comes to the promises made by our leaders. We are constantly waiting for someone to jump out from behind us and say: Gotcha!

An airport is promised, then nothing. A road is launched, the tractors roll in for the cameras, the ribbon is cut, the speeches made, the drones capture the perfect shots and then, as soon as the last microphone is switched off, the machinery vanishes like a magician’s trick. Poof. Gone. Not to be seen again.

We have been promised stadiums, sanitary towels, diapers, affordable cooking gas, millions of trees, jobs, jobs for the jobs, and yes, even gates. Imagine, in this country, even gates get a launch ceremony. Eh, it is dizzying.

And perhaps that is why many Kenyans now live in a constant state of skepticism. Every new promise is met not with excitement, or the belief that this is something good, Nope promises are now being met with a quiet side-eye and a whispered: Sawa… let’s wait and see. Will this one also go the same way?

Because by now, we have learnt that sometimes the launch is the project. The announcement is the achievement. The press conference is the delivery. And then silence. One broken promise blends into the next. And I predict it may get even worse.

Especially now that we are entering what feels like a heightened election season. Although, let’s be honest; in this country we are always in election mode. One election cycle barely ends before the next one begins. And with that comes an overflow of promises.

From everyone. Billions here. A fund there. A bill here. More billions there. Sometimes I wonder whether the language used to explain some of these projects and sources of funding is deliberately made so technical, so full of jargon, that wananchi stop asking questions altogether. Because confusion can be a very effective political strategy.

Keep the electorate dizzy enough and perhaps they won’t notice when the promise quietly disappears. By the time the explanation is done, wananchi are left wondering whether they attended a budget speech, a science class, or a magic show.

But Kenyans are watching. And increasingly, they are asking: for how long will this go on? Because truly, we are tayad.

That is my memo.