Experiencing a Feeling of Political Promises.

How does political promises taste? They can be described as the sweet-sour taste kind of food. I cannot tell exactly what tastes so but I know there are foods which once you put into the mouth, your sense of taste gets confused immediately.

I am reminded of a moment a few years ago when I attended one of the big corporate events here in Nairobi and had that kind of experience. Once my invitation had been verified, I was ushered into the networking area. We were expected to network over some drinks and food before the main presentations could kick off being an early evening event.

I immediately picked an empty table and stood there with a glass of fresh mango juice, I was looking to the outside enjoying the evening view when those ushering ladies came in a tow with their tray filled to the brim with ‘foods’ and carried in such a way you could think they were flying.

The first one greeted me in a courteous manner and requested I pick what I preferred as they went past me in line. Being who I am, I was tempted to ask them to go find some serious food for me. This was triggered by the fact that the food was in tiny bits and some pined-on tooth picks.

On a serious note, I was brought up to believe food is only food if it’s served in plate or platter and you have the freedom to eat until getting tired is the only option left for you. This one was only trying to wake up my anger pangs to expect some ‘serious food’ which was never the case.

So, I picked a few of the foods from the trays as the flowed past me and decided to snack myself. After munching the first one which I couldn’t tell what it tasted like, I went straight for the next piece which looked like a sea crab but one my conscience assumed not to be the case.

I sank my teeth into it and ouch! It looked as though it had been taken straight from the fridge and sprayed some sour juice. My taste got confused immediately but I psychologically convinced myself that it was very sweet. It is only my stomach that detested that it wasn’t what the mind had communicated.

This is how I came face to with the phrase I loved to use while in high school that, “the food tasted like saw dust in my mouth and my stomach churned” to describe the feeling of loss especially what it felt like to be left by a girl you had only met once. We called that a heartbreak. Really?

The same feeling came last week when the vehicle I was traveling in went over a pothole and it immediately ticked in my head about the deserted political promises we are often given. And I tried to count every pothole I went through on that day.

I counted and counted and continued to count. In fact, I am still counting and I have realized that the promises have been so many. The reason behind my thinking is that we are always given promises of re-carpeting and making our roads better at every election year. And after the electioneering period is over, our leaders disappear until the next season.

At the time we are listening to the promises of our leaders, they sound so sweet and so great. In fact, they become so convincing that we end up voting them in riding on the very promises that later haunt us given the fact that the un-kept promises are what we wake up to see every morning and probably see every evening as we retire to our homes.

I am reminded of a friend of mine who was duped to buy something that wasn’t really equal to the value of the money spent. Truth is that if you spent money in the range of six zeros, you need to either have a standing house, a plot somewhere or even a mobility enabler.

That wasn’t the case for my friend. He had lost it all and hence became paranoid given the fact that he woke up every morning to see the false promise he had been given. He was becoming stressed seeing the huge amount of money that had gone down the drain and the funny thing that had been supplied in disguise. He thus needed a solution for him to get going.

He was advised to throw that funny thing away, accept and move on. And from that point, he felt better, took bigger risks and now things are far much great. The only problem with the political promises is that we are very comfortable to live with them as promises. The thing is; we aren’t willing to throw it away even when it openly seems to be hampering us and making us sick as well as stressed.

Last week I even became sicker when more promises came from the political class of better things than what they are now. I became sick to know that many others may not realize that we need to throw this ‘thing – (false promises)’ out and heal.

I became sick to know that I will continue dying slowly because of these false promises. I wish we could count the many potholes on our roads and misery that we undergo courtesy of the public theft that has happened and one which we are comfortable with.

I wish we can throw this thing out and decide to heal and take better risks. This time, like my friend, we get to the negotiating table and become the ones to sign and cash the check. I pray that we remember the churn in the stomach rather than the mere sweetness in the mouth or rather ears.

Get the feeling of the political promises and kindly do something. Maybe you should start by counting the potholes.

End.

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