The Writing of my Place in History

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There is a TT dubbed #SomeoneTellLinturi regarding an MP who appeared in TV stations on Wednesday, whining in a rather accented voice that the Salaries and Remuneration Commission that deals with MPs and other Public Officials’ salaries had overstepped their mandate and called for the Commission’s wind up.

Previously, MPs used to mug us, Taxpayers at gun point.  They would wantonly set their pay, and resist any tax on it, they drove huge cars-my sweat. A traditionally severely divided lot, they would speak in one voice during such discussions. At one point, only Karua and Peter Kenneth were against such a move.

When they were ordered to pay taxes, they said they wanted more salary, so that the taxman can deduct that extra amount as tax, one said they were not gaining, it was a +1-1 math. Then a few of them decided to make it a publicity stunt, Queing at KRA to pay tax. It was ceremonial to them- to us, it’s a crime not to.

Anyway, that is past.

Only that the past is back to haunt us. The devil bearing it this time is my MP.

I haven’t accepted him as my MP, whereas I wasn’t around, little birds tell me that he didn’t win fairly. Dead people rose to vote for him. IEBC official stamps were found somewhere in a bush. The man who was so vilified somehow won the election. Wonder where he got the votes-Don’t quote me.

Now, seeing him talk like that, and #KOT telling him as they (we) do, I felt ashamed.

Why do people have to be so greedy? Is it a curse unique to that house? Or is it a haunted house? We have seen several seasons of the Reality Show that is Kenyan Politics behave in exactly the same manner. Total disregard of the laws that be especially where their greedy, huge tummies are concerned.

And why did my MP choose to be the King Pig? I feel the nudge to call him a few select words, but I leave that to Cabu Gah. 

Friends, as it is now, I don’t have an MP.

I don’t. I am not at home anyway.

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