WAS IT A LIE?
I keep pondering the endless nightmare—
The daily exhortation of patriotism and national values,
The colorful flag we were taught to die defending.
The books we read that shunned graft,
That kept us awake through the cold night drafts.
The echoes of liter-less cities,
And the cries for huduma and heshima
Above every other virtue.
Was it a lie?
Because I grew up one day,
Feet eager to practice those solemn lessons on display.
My peers and I—
High in morals,
Longing for truth over lies,
Social justice over selfish caprice,
Honest service over whimsical promises,
Good governance over abuse of office,
Equity over discrimination.
Soon, I had to unlearn what I had learnt.
This disquieting discovery sent my adrenaline restless—
And I took to the streets,
Seeking justice as a matter of duty.
If my words on socials could not solve this,
I’d upset the streets until they heard me.
But deaf are they—
With swollen bellies, full to the ears,
And egos bloated to the brim—hubris at its best!
The streets, we learnt, weren’t ours to parade.
The uniformed parade
Would shoot the life out of us with hate.
We dropped dead—by tens and hundreds—seeking justice.
Bloated egos silenced us with guns.
They dared call us—treaty seekers—goons.
It’s twelve months now
Since we both bore this loss—
Graves sprouting red,
Mothers dry of tears, fathers dry of spears,
Wanting their children back.
But they must contend with the truth—
They bore heroes
Who died trying,
Rather than wallow in silence.
We shall try again—and again—
For a better country.
They won yesterday,
But we shall win someday—
And win forever.
Written in honour of the Gen Zs who died trying and those still in pursuit of justice.
May all who lost their loved ones be comforted.
Sr. Esther Jeruto Koros OSF
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