Let it not be said that I wouldn't do something to help my fellowman when calamity befell him. If he was on fire, I would pee on the Governor of Nairobi City to put out the blaze. He'd appreciate the fast-thinking reflexes of a resident of the County he promised to turn into a world class city.
About that promise, by the by, he has, so far, been an abject failure. Every now and then, when the spirit moves me (usually very large snifter of something Scottish), I dare to commute to work after 7 in the morning. Daring because Jogoo Road is not known for its sensible drivers, marked roads or fidelity to the Highway Code. As a dodge, my fellow commuters and I are usually taken on a tour of the forgotten roads of Eastlands. Eastleigh is a particular favourite of that Savings and Credit Co-operative known as Buru Buru Transport Sacco, and its roads are a reminder that billionaire politicians know fuck all about the plight of the working man.
Before you can buy those German mass transit/rapid transit buses or those Japanese commuter trains, Bwana Governor, fill in the potholed roads, restore our pavements to us, get Creative Consolidated to collect all the garbage in the CBD and for God's sake, take more than a cursory glance at the state of your city's drains and sewers.
Nairobi City will not move forward so long as the Governor's blueprints remain blueprints, fancy documents that he uses to persuade gullible Asians and Europeans as to the sincerity of his development agenda for our city. I will not go as far as to suggest as Muriith Mutiga has that Mr Kidero be the last elected governor of this city; that ship has sailed. All we can do as long-suffering residents is ask that Mr Kidero pull the thumb out of his mouth and charm all those that need to be charmed so that things that are important to the sweaty, walking masses are sorted out. Mr Kidero should remember that he is now a politicians and we have a nasty habit of turning on clever-but-useless politicians.
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