08/07/2025
SAY NO TO TRIBALISM
We want a Kenya where, when Kamau meets Otieno, they don't see tribes—they see brothers.
They don't ask, "Where are you from?" to place you in a political box. They ask because they genuinely want to learn about your village, your story, your heritage, and how your path led you here. In this Kenya, Kamau doesn’t care whether Otieno says "nyathiwa" or "mwana wa nyina." What matters is how they can walk together to build a better tomorrow.
We want a Kenya where, when Aisha from Mombasa shares a meal with Kiptoo from Elgeyo Marakwet, they taste the richness of diversity.
They don’t mock each other’s accents or food. Instead, they savour the spiced pilau and the fermented mursik, laughing over stories, learning each other’s languages, and discovering that we are more similar than we are different. A Kenya where every dialect is music and every meal a lesson.
We want a Kenya where our last names don't determine the level of respect we receive.
Where Onyango and Wambui get the same interview chances, the same opportunities, the same treatment—regardless of which name appears on top of a CV. A Kenya where names are just names, not weapons of prejudice or tribal calculators in boardroom decisions.
We want a Kenya where, when Chebet walks into a hospital in Kisumu, she is served with the same care and dignity as Njuguna in Nyeri.
A country where services are not skewed by county lines or political affiliations, but driven by need, urgency, and humanity. Where health workers wear compassion instead of bias and healing is offered without suspicion or discrimination.
We want a Kenya where the children of Turkana and those of Murang’a sit in the same classroom and dream with the same freedom.
They learn about one another’s roots, not in stereotypes, but in shared classroom discussions, art, music, and play. A Kenya where the school curriculum doesn’t just teach subjects—it teaches togetherness. Where the only competition is in creativity, not in community rivalry.
We want a Kenya where elections don’t split families, burn homes, or silence neighbors.
A Kenya where politics is a contest of ideas, not ethnic coalitions. Where we choose leaders for their vision, not for their tribes. Where voters cry tears of hope, not fear. And where losing an election doesn’t mean losing a life.
We want a Kenya where people don’t fear identifying themselves in certain towns.
Where a Kikuyu can open a shop in Kisii, a Kalenjin can farm in Busia, and a Somali can own land in Nyeri—without second looks, sly comments, or threats. A Kenya that treats every citizen as a rightful heir to the land, not an outsider.
We want a Kenya where the media focuses on unity stories, not tribal wars.
A press that uplifts the voices of harmony, documents peace builders, and showcases collaboration across ethnic lines. Not one that thrives on fueling fear and clickbait tribal drama. A media house that remembers its duty to protect, not provoke.
We want a Kenya where youth groups are not tribal enclaves but national movements.
Where Gen Zs from Kitui to Kisumu rally not for their own, but for the good of all. A Kenya where being young means breaking tribal boundaries and rewriting the story of our nation in bold, unified ink.
We want a Kenya where elders teach wisdom, not old tribal grudges.
Where our grandmothers and grandfathers tell tales of unity and not division. A Kenya where fireside stories pass on courage, humility, and Ubuntu—not fear, suspicion, and stereotypes.
We want a Kenya where the police protect everyone equally.
Where you are not treated with suspicion just because you are from a "wrong" county or region. A Kenya where justice is blind to tribe, where the law serves the innocent regardless of their roots, and where every citizen can walk at night with the confidence that their rights are protected.
We want a Kenya where intermarriages are celebrated, not whispered about.
Where a Kamba man marrying a Luo woman isn't seen as betraying his people, but as expanding his heart. Where cultures blend in love and not in backlash. A Kenya where every wedding is a union of people and cultures, not a test of loyalty.
We want a Kenya where national events feature every tribe’s dance and dress.
Where Mashujaa Day and Jamhuri Day celebrate the full beauty of our people—Turkana beadwork, Kisii soapstone, Kalenjin chants, Swahili poetry, Kikuyu drums, Luo benga—all in one national rhythm. A Kenya where the stage has no tribal gatekeepers.
We want a Kenya where opportunities reach Mandera, Vihiga, Taita, and Nyamira equally.
Where devolution is not just a theory but a truth, and counties thrive regardless of who is in State House. A Kenya where resources don’t follow ethnicity, but need, innovation, and potential.
We want a Kenya where the Constitution is not just a document but a promise.
A living promise that all of us, no matter where we come from, are protected, respected, and given equal chances to thrive. A Kenya where no one is above the law and no one is below dignity.
We want a Kenya where art, music, and sports unite our youth across tribal lines.
Where a rapper from Dandora collaborates with a nyatiti player from Siaya and a drummer from Bomet. A Kenya whose anthem is sung in many languages but holds one spirit.
We want a Kenya where students from Turkana sit next to those from Murang’a at national universities and organize cultural weeks, not tribal fights.
A Kenya where your roommate becomes your brother, your sister, your future business partner, not someone to fear because of what region they come from.
We want a Kenya where no one is forced to "lie" about their tribe to fit in.
A Kenya where you don’t have to soften your name to sound more acceptable. Where you speak your mother tongue with pride, not in secret. A Kenya that tells you: You belong. Just as you are.
We want a Kenya where political campaigns talk about climate change, education, innovation—not which community should ‘eat next.’
A Kenya where manifestos are written in the language of ideas, not insults. Where we don’t vote based on bloodlines but on blueprints for a better tomorrow.
We want a Kenya where, when Kamau meets Otieno, when Atieno meets Wanjala, when Hassan meets Wambui… they smile, shake hands, hug, and say: "We are one."
They sit and sip tea, talk about the future, and raise children who will never understand what tribal hatred feels like. A Kenya where our greatest tribe is Kenyanism. A Kenya that we, not they, build.
