(Lights rise slowly. Campaign posters fly across the stage. Dust. Whistles. Cheap campaign songs blasting from broken speakers. Large banners read: “Muhote — The Able MP” “Development Continues” “Delivering the Plan” “A Leader Who Delivers” Muhote enters dramatically. Expensive suit. Fake humility. A sack of cash carried discreetly behind him. His cheeks slightly unshaven — carefully designed to appear “close to the people.”)
Mzee Kihoto: (addressing audience directly) Ladies and gentlemen…behold Muhote is here again. A man who mastered the Lari basic formula; food today…equals votes tomorrow. And so he distributed foodstuffs like wedding invitation cards.
Nyina wa Wanja: I remember that day clearly. He pressed a new two-hundred-shilling note into my hand so tightly…I felt development enter my bloodstream.
(Laughter.)
Old Man from Githogoiyo: I voted for him because he gave me one hundred shillings note. To this day…that remains the biggest government project I have personally received.
(Huge laughter.)
Crowd: Our able MP! Our able MP! Our able MP!
Mzee Kihoto: And with that…Muhote ascended proudly to the throne of nothingness.
(Lights shift abruptly. Kinale. Mud everywhere. Villagers struggle through thick black mud. One woman nearly loses a shoe. Children jump across potholes like crossing rivers.)
Nyina wa Wanja: This is Kinale. Where roads are so muddy…you need swimming costume to visit your neighbor.
Mzee Kihoto: Muhote promised to fix these roads.
Nyina wa Wanja: Fix? Even the mud is shocked he said that.
(Laughter. Githogoiyo. A large rock at center stage. Old Man from Githogoiyo sits alone.)
Old Man from Githogoiyo: I come from Githogoiyo. A place where Muhote never stepped since election. His full term ended without a single visit. Mind you we voted for him. No roads. No water. No projects. Not even a signboard lying that development might one day come.
Mzee Kihoto: To live in Githogoiyo…is to be free from the burden of expectation.
(Soft laughter. Nyanduma & Kamburu. Dim lighting. Neglected villages. Broken tea collection centre structures. Women carrying tea baskets long distances.)
Mzee Kihoto: Nyanduma and Kamburu…two villages so forgotten…even Google Maps hesitates to recognize them as part of Lari.
Nyanduma Man: (shouting angrily) Sometimes I think we are not truly part of Lari! Maybe colonial officers added us accidentally during confusion!
(Laughter mixed with sympathy.)
Crowd: Hmmmmmm…it might be.
(Matathia. A hopeful young man steps forward brightly.)
Youth of Matathia: But maybe this year something changes! Maybe he remembers us now! Maybe he has a plan! Maybe—
Mzee Kihoto: (gently) Poor child. Hope is dangerous in Lari. Especially when directed toward a leader.
(Nyambari. Old women seated quietly. They laugh bitterly. Not loudly. Tired laughter.)
Old Woman of Nyambari: My son…we have seen nothing since independence. If development did not arrive in 1964…why should we expect miracles in Muhote’s re-election bid?
Mzee Kihoto: Nyambari…where optimism goes to die.
(Lights explode suddenly. Campaign music returns violently. Whistles. Convoys. Dancing. The return of Muhote. Muhote enters smiling broadly. Arms raised dramatically.)
Mzee Kihoto: Four silent years. After losing. No speeches. No funerals attended. Then suddenly—
Muhote: My people! I have returned!
Nyina wa Wanja: Returned from where?
Muhote: From the cold corner you put me.
Crowd: What did you bring us?
Muhote: (ignoring question completely) Your problems are my priority!
Mzee Kihoto: A priority he remembered…one year before elections.
(Drums begin. Kanya Ka Ndeto Enters dramatically waving a loaded brown envelope.)
Kanya Ka Ndeto: Listen people of Lari! Our able MP, Honorable Muhote, has plans! Big plans! Huge plans! Plans that will shock the nation!
Mzee Kihoto: The only shocking thing…is that this is the same man who did nothing in a whole term. No single place has his fingerprints.
Nyina wa Wanja: Has he ever even lived among us?
Kanya Ka Ndeto (shrugging casually) He is now coming to live among us. His house is under construction.
Old Man from Githogoiyo: We have seen and heard a lot. That is just a strategy to woo us. Unfortunately, we are past silly love relationships.
Mzee Kihoto: He has been paid to speak. Not to think.
(The crowd is given new notes and suddenly begins chanting again.)
Crowd: Our able MP! Our able MP! Our able MP!
Mzee Kihoto: (shocked) But he did NOTHING!
Crowd: (confidently) But he WILL do! Even the holy book says ‘forget about the past.’
Mzee Kihoto: When?
Crowd: After we re-elect him!
Mzee Kihoto: But he already had five years!
Crowd: (almost hypnotized) Our able MP! Our able MP!
(The chanting grows louder. More disturbing. More mechanical. Almost religious.)
Mzee Kihoto: (turning slowly toward audience) Ladies and gentlemen…there comes a time when analysis must end. Because how do you explain voters who turn slogans into lullabies…while their villages continue swimming in mud?
(The chanting slowly fades. Lights dim except single spotlight.)
Mzee Kihoto: And so ends the tale of Muhote…The MP who arrived with handouts…governed through absence…returned with slogans…and was welcomed with songs.
(Long silence.)
Mzee Kihoto: This is Lari. Where memory is short. Where hope is cheap. Where slogans defeat reality. And where a man can do absolutely nothing for five years…yet still return proudly as: “The Able MP.”
(He sighs deeply.)
Mzee Kihoto: My friends…if forgetting the past is dementia, then majority of Lari people are sick. (Lights fade slowly.)
Mzee Kihoto: (addressing audience directly) Ladies and gentlemen…behold Muhote is here again. A man who mastered the Lari basic formula; food today…equals votes tomorrow. And so he distributed foodstuffs like wedding invitation cards.
Nyina wa Wanja: I remember that day clearly. He pressed a new two-hundred-shilling note into my hand so tightly…I felt development enter my bloodstream.
(Laughter.)
Old Man from Githogoiyo: I voted for him because he gave me one hundred shillings note. To this day…that remains the biggest government project I have personally received.
(Huge laughter.)
Crowd: Our able MP! Our able MP! Our able MP!
Mzee Kihoto: And with that…Muhote ascended proudly to the throne of nothingness.
(Lights shift abruptly. Kinale. Mud everywhere. Villagers struggle through thick black mud. One woman nearly loses a shoe. Children jump across potholes like crossing rivers.)
Nyina wa Wanja: This is Kinale. Where roads are so muddy…you need swimming costume to visit your neighbor.
Mzee Kihoto: Muhote promised to fix these roads.
Nyina wa Wanja: Fix? Even the mud is shocked he said that.
(Laughter. Githogoiyo. A large rock at center stage. Old Man from Githogoiyo sits alone.)
Old Man from Githogoiyo: I come from Githogoiyo. A place where Muhote never stepped since election. His full term ended without a single visit. Mind you we voted for him. No roads. No water. No projects. Not even a signboard lying that development might one day come.
Mzee Kihoto: To live in Githogoiyo…is to be free from the burden of expectation.
(Soft laughter. Nyanduma & Kamburu. Dim lighting. Neglected villages. Broken tea collection centre structures. Women carrying tea baskets long distances.)
Mzee Kihoto: Nyanduma and Kamburu…two villages so forgotten…even Google Maps hesitates to recognize them as part of Lari.
Nyanduma Man: (shouting angrily) Sometimes I think we are not truly part of Lari! Maybe colonial officers added us accidentally during confusion!
(Laughter mixed with sympathy.)
Crowd: Hmmmmmm…it might be.
(Matathia. A hopeful young man steps forward brightly.)
Youth of Matathia: But maybe this year something changes! Maybe he remembers us now! Maybe he has a plan! Maybe—
Mzee Kihoto: (gently) Poor child. Hope is dangerous in Lari. Especially when directed toward a leader.
(Nyambari. Old women seated quietly. They laugh bitterly. Not loudly. Tired laughter.)
Old Woman of Nyambari: My son…we have seen nothing since independence. If development did not arrive in 1964…why should we expect miracles in Muhote’s re-election bid?
Mzee Kihoto: Nyambari…where optimism goes to die.
(Lights explode suddenly. Campaign music returns violently. Whistles. Convoys. Dancing. The return of Muhote. Muhote enters smiling broadly. Arms raised dramatically.)
Mzee Kihoto: Four silent years. After losing. No speeches. No funerals attended. Then suddenly—
Muhote: My people! I have returned!
Nyina wa Wanja: Returned from where?
Muhote: From the cold corner you put me.
Crowd: What did you bring us?
Muhote: (ignoring question completely) Your problems are my priority!
Mzee Kihoto: A priority he remembered…one year before elections.
(Drums begin. Kanya Ka Ndeto Enters dramatically waving a loaded brown envelope.)
Kanya Ka Ndeto: Listen people of Lari! Our able MP, Honorable Muhote, has plans! Big plans! Huge plans! Plans that will shock the nation!
Mzee Kihoto: The only shocking thing…is that this is the same man who did nothing in a whole term. No single place has his fingerprints.
Nyina wa Wanja: Has he ever even lived among us?
Kanya Ka Ndeto (shrugging casually) He is now coming to live among us. His house is under construction.
Old Man from Githogoiyo: We have seen and heard a lot. That is just a strategy to woo us. Unfortunately, we are past silly love relationships.
Mzee Kihoto: He has been paid to speak. Not to think.
(The crowd is given new notes and suddenly begins chanting again.)
Crowd: Our able MP! Our able MP! Our able MP!
Mzee Kihoto: (shocked) But he did NOTHING!
Crowd: (confidently) But he WILL do! Even the holy book says ‘forget about the past.’
Mzee Kihoto: When?
Crowd: After we re-elect him!
Mzee Kihoto: But he already had five years!
Crowd: (almost hypnotized) Our able MP! Our able MP!
(The chanting grows louder. More disturbing. More mechanical. Almost religious.)
Mzee Kihoto: (turning slowly toward audience) Ladies and gentlemen…there comes a time when analysis must end. Because how do you explain voters who turn slogans into lullabies…while their villages continue swimming in mud?
(The chanting slowly fades. Lights dim except single spotlight.)
Mzee Kihoto: And so ends the tale of Muhote…The MP who arrived with handouts…governed through absence…returned with slogans…and was welcomed with songs.
(Long silence.)
Mzee Kihoto: This is Lari. Where memory is short. Where hope is cheap. Where slogans defeat reality. And where a man can do absolutely nothing for five years…yet still return proudly as: “The Able MP.”
(He sighs deeply.)
Mzee Kihoto: My friends…if forgetting the past is dementia, then majority of Lari people are sick. (Lights fade slowly.)
