By Andrew Adalla
Onagi. Let me ask you a question that many fear to ask openly: What should being in government mean to us? For forty years, we have mistaken opposition for virtue and agitation for strategy. We have mastered the art of speaking loudly — but not the art of negotiating firmly. We have become the nation’s loudest conscience — but not its strongest beneficiaries.
It is time to confront ourselves.
Being in government must not mean becoming mouthy hornbills — forever speaking on behalf of other Kenyans against the very system we sit in. We have done that for decades. What has it earned us? Funerals. Tear gas. Bullet wounds. Headlines.
Being in government must not mean sending our sons and daughters to the streets to be hunted down in the name of “good governance.” Let us be honest with ourselves: if Kenyans truly wanted good governance, they would have voted consistently for it. They did not.
Yet it is our blood that waters the soil.
It must not mean endlessly throwing stones at the State while others use our anger as a ladder to climb into power. We protest; they negotiate. We bury; they are sworn in. We bleed; they inherit.
That cycle must end.
Being in government must mean something else. It must mean restraint. It must mean calculation. It must mean economic leverage.
It must mean choosing peace — not because we are weak — but because we are wise.
Let others now inherit the culture of permanent outrage. Let others discover the taste of tear gas. Let others learn the cost of martyrdom. We have paid enough tuition for this country.
The Luo community has buried too many young men and women in the quest for justice, human rights, and reform. And what has been the return on that sacrifice? Broken families. Abandoned dreams. Empty promises.
And now — those who presided over repression dare to whisper, “Sisi ni sifuna.” They cloak themselves in slogans. They hide behind language. They urge you to join them.
It is unacceptable.
Do not be deceived by theatrics. Do not follow the few among us who are being used to advance another man’s in-law’s ambition. Political manipulation wrapped in kinship is still manipulation.
Between now and 2032, our focus must be singular: local economic transformation.
Not rhetoric. Not rebellion. Not recycled revolution. But enterprise.
We must build industries along the lake. Modernize fisheries. Mechanize agriculture. Create youth enterprise funds that actually fund youth. Establish manufacturing zones. Secure procurement opportunities. Dominate regional trade.
Political emotion without economic power is slavery wearing pride.
We must graduate from resistance politics to resource politics.
There comes a time in history when a people must decide whether they want to be heroic — or prosperous. The world respects prosperity. Prosperity commands dignity. Prosperity silences contempt.
This is that time.
TUTAM is not a slogan. It is a decision. It is discipline. It is a strategic pivot. It is real. It is non-negotiable.
We either choose to be architects of economic power — or we return to the streets to rehearse our own funerals.
There are only two paths. One leads to construction. The other leads to coffins. I have made my choice. I choose stability with strategy. I choose negotiation over noise. I choose enterprise over elegy. I choose TUTAM.
Onagi — the question is simple. What do you choose?
