The hashtag is #RutoMustGo.
You’ve been a frequent presence on my screens lately, reminding me of that moment when I thought you might be the one to help us fix our issues.
I attribute this to my own emotions; you embody the traits of my emotionally unavailable father, who, like you, demands constant attention for his self-centered ramblings. You say much without truly saying anything, yet manage to reiterate what we already know.
It seems I’m destined to seek my father in influential men, which explains why I cast my ballot for you in my first election, hoping you were just misunderstood. It was a classic case of “daddy issues.” You’ve become a familiar disappointment. This is the impact of patriarchy: you, damaged by your ego, and I, shaped by egos like yours.
I watch your daughter strive for your approval. Will you finally see her? Will you give her the attention she craves, so we can avoid another embarrassing public moment?
On social media, they’ve dubbed her Wiggy-G. I empathize with her struggles, but I also choose not to. I can’t believe you live in luxury while your self-appointed first daughter, the supposed champion of the ‘youth,’ lacks a stylist.
We, your new opposition, are confused about who these ‘youth’ are, especially when the worst thing to happen to your daughter seems to be her fashion choices. Meanwhile, our mothers mourn at home because you’ve allowed violence against peaceful protesters. Eight bullets struck a 12-year-old, yet you sit comfortably, lips drier than your falsehoods, labeling us criminals.
Perhaps it’s the audacity of the white men you’re so eager to please.
The police mock and intimidate us, all in honor of a man who sent their own to die protecting those very interests.
Your presence has become exhausting, your words fueling my discontent. I don’t hate you as one might hate an enemy. I refuse to embrace that kind of venom. My disdain is rooted in my love for revolution, my worship of freedom, and my commitment to individuality.
It’s poetic. I don’t wish to harm you, but I must dismantle your influence.
This is what our ancestors fought for. You are what they fought against. Long live Jacob Juma.