Please lie to us.

It is in Kenya that one will find that hitting ones head against the wall is par for the course. The Second Republic is spectacularly maddening. The devolution of power is proceeding in fits and starts. The Senate and the National Assembly have kept up a running sub rosa war that threatens to stymie meaningful legislative business. The National Executive is held hostage to various cartels in various sectors with varying appetites and networks. County Executives have proven to be just as venal and avaricious as the National Executive they were meant to differ from.

Kenya is Charlie Brown; every time it seems we are just about to kick the ball into the goal, the ball is yanked away. In 1990, the repeal of section 2A of the former constitution signaled the opening up of the political arena. Instead of pluralism of political and economic though, we ended up with an expensive National Assembly and its price has only gone up in the two decades since. In 2002, it seemed that with Uhuru Kenyatta's concession speech, KANU was finally dead; all we had to do was to bury it and all its perfidious baggage. Three - THREE! - short months later, the President was fighting a severe stroke and Anglo Leasing was well on its way to making our lives about as miserable as ever.

Disappointment is a staple of life in Kenya. It is the one constant that every Kenyan will identify with. It is a national characteristic. It is pervasive and dispiriting. It is why when Kenyans witness our president on foreign soil making promises of one sort or the other, we roll our eyes and snigger to ourselves. What do foreign presidents and prime ministers know of Kenyan promises of action? The only time they matter is when presidential hides are on the line. Pray, do you truly believe that the Government of Kenya will make a meaningful contribution to the recovery of the girls abducted by Boko Haram? When one of the "eyes and ears of the government" was abducted to Somalia by al Shabaab, the Government of Kenya promised to leave no stone unturned. It was two years before al Shabaab set the Kenyan administrator free; the abductors had gotten tired of waiting for the ransom to be paid.

Kenyans no longer want promises. Kenyans no longer want assurances. All they want is peaceful silence. If you are going to say anything, lie to us. Tell us that the land of milk and honey is in the making. Tell us that the smooth highways will no longer be washed in the blood of road traffic accident victims. Tell us that when our children walk home from school, they will not be the objects of desire of foreign pederasts holding residential papers "purchased" from the Immigration Department. Tell us if we work hard, and save enough, we will all retire to ten acres "back home" in relative comfort. Tell us that it will be all right in the end. Please, lie to us.