All the trimmings.

Can you honestly swear that, other than CORD (where ODM is the sun) and Jubilee constellations (where TNA is the sun), you know who the parties in the by-elections in Homa Bay (today), Kajiado Central (do you even remember when it is scheduled for) and Kabete (his body is not even cold in the ground yet) are? I don't know the other parties, but certain faces are familiar, like Philip Nyakundi, though why they are familiar remains a mystery. Before he was nominated by ODM to stand for the Homa Bay Senate seat left vacant by his brother's untimely death, Moses Kajwang' was not known for anything special, or political like his elder siblings, the late Otieno and TJ Kajwang', representing Ruaraka in Nairobi County.

The faces are familiar, but what the men and women behind the faces have achieved for the people they wish to represent in Parliament remains shrouded in mystery. What is certain, what has always been certain, is that promises will be made by the candidates. These promises, in keeping with the changing digital times, will be calibrated and micro-calibrated for every possible demographic, interest and pressure group: youth, women, the aged, the disabled, artisans, boda boda operators, fisherwomen, and so on. 

You will not hear promises being made to Big Oil, Big Pharma, Big Tobacco, Big Tenderpreneur, yet these are the true constituencies that will find representation in Parliament. It is why so many faces look so familiar that it doesn't really matter what party they ride to Parliament, so long as they arrive.

Every now and then the people get a sop. Sometimes it is big, frequently it is not. When it starts out big, it is frequently hijacked and the people find themselves on the outside of their thing with the windows closed and the curtain drawn tight, noses pressed to the window, snot smeared everywhere. The Constituency Development Fund Act was a brilliant sop and it would have worked too if...we don't need to tread over the ground again, do we? So the new Senator or Member of the National Assembly will be sworn in before his fellow-parliamentarians and in his maiden Speech he will make promises. Those promises were jotted down last night as he celebrated with his new found constituents at places where the umber of zeroes on the bill of fare grow longer but not intimidating to the new parliamentarian with his new close friends to help him in his noble task.

In six months memories of any promises made will have faded. In a year memories of dedicated service to the people, a duty to the truth, and vigilance in public affairs will all be figments of the misguided media's memories. The no-longer-new parliamentarian will have replaced his cut-rate Prado with an upgrade - maybe an X5. He will take advantage of that nifty 3% mortgage scheme for parliamentarians. He will have schooled himself on how to choose foie gras, escargot and an accompanying Chablis without looking like the ass he definitely is. 

His Maiden Speech is likely his last speech on the floor of the National Assembly; as a member of at least two-dozen sitting-allowances-paying committees, the business of the House, or the Senate, can take a back-seat as he lines his pockets. Tell me you are not so naive as to believe that this time it will be different. Tell me that you remember this movie, you've watched it before and you know how the story ends. Tell me you are simply going through the motions because, deep down, you know that after the singing, the shouting, the pushing and shoving, the stone-throwing, the queueing, the waiting and the jubilating and ululating, he will forget you, he will refuse to answer phone calls and he will take a mistress for whom he will spend a pretty penny putting her up in a flat with all the trimmings.