(Late evening along a muddy Bathi village path. Women carrying firewood. Children walking from school. Men repairing bicycles beside small kiosks. Then suddenly—Campaign songs explode loudly in the distance. Whistles. Motorcycles. Convoys.)
Crowd: (confused murmuring) Campaigns? Already? But elections are still far away…three years to come.
Mobilizer: (running excitedly across stage) Do not ask when! In Lari…campaigns do not follow time. Time follows campaigns!
(Huge laughter.)
Mzee Kihoto: In many places…campaigns arrive like seasons. Then they leave. But in Lari…campaigns never end. They simply rest briefly. Perhaps minutes.
Kamau: But aren’t campaigns supposed to begin only a few months before elections?
Old Man: (laughing dryly) That is the law. (Looks around slowly.) This…is Lari.
(Lights shift slowly)
Mbogo: My people! I came early because I care early! I have seen; your suffering, your neglect, your forgotten roads.
Crowd: (excitedly) He came early! He truly loves us!
Mzee Kihoto: In Lari…love is measured; not by good governance—but by arrival time and what is in the pocket.
(Lights dim slightly. Behind a church building.)
Mwitikia: Will you contest?
Njohana: (smiling knowingly) Yes. But not to win.
Mwitikia: Then why campaign?
Mwitikia: Every road must first be cleared…before a king passes through.
Mzee Kihoto: Some men campaign for office. Others campaign; for influence and money, for negotiation, or for somebody else’s arrival entirely.
(Kamau approaches curiously.)
Kamau: If you already know you cannot win…why walk all these villages?
Njohana: Because even a voice crying in the wilderness still has a purpose.
Mzee Kihoto: And sometimes…the loudest voice is not the one that remains longest.
(Lights shift quickly. The sudden arrival. Whispers spreading rapidly through Lari. People murmuring nervously.)
Crowd: (whispering repeatedly) Have you heard? Someone new is coming…No posters…No convoys…No noise…
Mobilizer: (confused and offended) But who mobilized for him?
(Suddenly Gichuka Waithera appears quietly among ordinary people. No announcement. No music. No security. Yet people begin noticing him everywhere.)
Mzee Kihoto: No songs introduced him. No posters carried his face. Yet suddenly…he appeared everywhere. Lari people talked about him in; homes, markets, churches, funerals, pathways, and in daily conversations.
Crowd: (quiet awe) Where did he come from?
Njohana: (softly, satisfied) The road…is finally prepared.
(Lights shift. Public meeting. Mungai addresses villagers confidently. Experienced smile. Comfortable arrogance.)
Mungai: My people…you know me well. I have always stood with you.
Old Man: Yes. We know you.
(Long pause.)
Old Man: But what exactly have you done apart from creating a system of PR?
(Silence.)
Kamau: He has done very little if there is…
Crowd: Still— he is ours! Still— we know him! Still—
change feels dangerous!
Mzee Kihoto: Even when harvests fail repeatedly…some farmers still refuse to; change seed, change methods, or replace the bull that mounts their cow.
(Heavy silence. Old Man rises slowly. The crowd quiets.)
Old Man: Your hearts…have become like stone.
Crowd: (defensive immediately) No! We are simply loyal!
Old Man: Loyal…to what exactly? To progress? Or merely to habit?
(Long silence.)
Mzee Kihoto: In Lari…change rarely fails because it is absent. It fails because it is resisted emotionally.
(Lights shift rapidly. All candidates still campaigning. Still promising. Still singing. Still moving. Time passing visibly across stage; months, seasons, rain, sunshine. Yet the campaign never stops.)
Mzee Kihoto: Two years. One year. Six months. Three months.
(Pause.)
Mzee Kihoto: In Lari…these numbers mean nothing. Politics never sleeps here. It only changes decibels.
(The people stand silently now. Thinking. Watching. Tired.)
Kamau: We have seen everything.
Old Man: Yes.
Kamau: And still…we must choose.
(Gichuka Waithera stands quietly. Mungai stands firmly nearby. Njohana slowly steps backward into shadows.)
Crowd: (softly, conflicted) We complain…We compare… We suffer…and then we reinforce the same vicious cycle by our choices.
(Pause.)
Crowd: (stronger now, uncertain still) But shall we truly change?
Mzee Kihoto: The tragedy of Lari is not simply that leaders fail. It is that people sometimes refuse to accept the system that will not give them handouts. They keep choosing leaders after their own heart and ideals.
(Long silence.)
Mzee Kihoto: And so the campaigns continue. Not because elections are near…but because decisions remain as they were in 1969.
(Lights fade slowly. Distant campaign songs continue echoing endlessly in darkness. Never fully disappearing.)
Crowd: (confused murmuring) Campaigns? Already? But elections are still far away…three years to come.
Mobilizer: (running excitedly across stage) Do not ask when! In Lari…campaigns do not follow time. Time follows campaigns!
(Huge laughter.)
Mzee Kihoto: In many places…campaigns arrive like seasons. Then they leave. But in Lari…campaigns never end. They simply rest briefly. Perhaps minutes.
Kamau: But aren’t campaigns supposed to begin only a few months before elections?
Old Man: (laughing dryly) That is the law. (Looks around slowly.) This…is Lari.
(Lights shift slowly)
Mbogo: My people! I came early because I care early! I have seen; your suffering, your neglect, your forgotten roads.
Crowd: (excitedly) He came early! He truly loves us!
Mzee Kihoto: In Lari…love is measured; not by good governance—but by arrival time and what is in the pocket.
(Lights dim slightly. Behind a church building.)
Mwitikia: Will you contest?
Njohana: (smiling knowingly) Yes. But not to win.
Mwitikia: Then why campaign?
Mwitikia: Every road must first be cleared…before a king passes through.
Mzee Kihoto: Some men campaign for office. Others campaign; for influence and money, for negotiation, or for somebody else’s arrival entirely.
(Kamau approaches curiously.)
Kamau: If you already know you cannot win…why walk all these villages?
Njohana: Because even a voice crying in the wilderness still has a purpose.
Mzee Kihoto: And sometimes…the loudest voice is not the one that remains longest.
(Lights shift quickly. The sudden arrival. Whispers spreading rapidly through Lari. People murmuring nervously.)
Crowd: (whispering repeatedly) Have you heard? Someone new is coming…No posters…No convoys…No noise…
Mobilizer: (confused and offended) But who mobilized for him?
(Suddenly Gichuka Waithera appears quietly among ordinary people. No announcement. No music. No security. Yet people begin noticing him everywhere.)
Mzee Kihoto: No songs introduced him. No posters carried his face. Yet suddenly…he appeared everywhere. Lari people talked about him in; homes, markets, churches, funerals, pathways, and in daily conversations.
Crowd: (quiet awe) Where did he come from?
Njohana: (softly, satisfied) The road…is finally prepared.
(Lights shift. Public meeting. Mungai addresses villagers confidently. Experienced smile. Comfortable arrogance.)
Mungai: My people…you know me well. I have always stood with you.
Old Man: Yes. We know you.
(Long pause.)
Old Man: But what exactly have you done apart from creating a system of PR?
(Silence.)
Kamau: He has done very little if there is…
Crowd: Still— he is ours! Still— we know him! Still—
change feels dangerous!
Mzee Kihoto: Even when harvests fail repeatedly…some farmers still refuse to; change seed, change methods, or replace the bull that mounts their cow.
(Heavy silence. Old Man rises slowly. The crowd quiets.)
Old Man: Your hearts…have become like stone.
Crowd: (defensive immediately) No! We are simply loyal!
Old Man: Loyal…to what exactly? To progress? Or merely to habit?
(Long silence.)
Mzee Kihoto: In Lari…change rarely fails because it is absent. It fails because it is resisted emotionally.
(Lights shift rapidly. All candidates still campaigning. Still promising. Still singing. Still moving. Time passing visibly across stage; months, seasons, rain, sunshine. Yet the campaign never stops.)
Mzee Kihoto: Two years. One year. Six months. Three months.
(Pause.)
Mzee Kihoto: In Lari…these numbers mean nothing. Politics never sleeps here. It only changes decibels.
(The people stand silently now. Thinking. Watching. Tired.)
Kamau: We have seen everything.
Old Man: Yes.
Kamau: And still…we must choose.
(Gichuka Waithera stands quietly. Mungai stands firmly nearby. Njohana slowly steps backward into shadows.)
Crowd: (softly, conflicted) We complain…We compare… We suffer…and then we reinforce the same vicious cycle by our choices.
(Pause.)
Crowd: (stronger now, uncertain still) But shall we truly change?
Mzee Kihoto: The tragedy of Lari is not simply that leaders fail. It is that people sometimes refuse to accept the system that will not give them handouts. They keep choosing leaders after their own heart and ideals.
(Long silence.)
Mzee Kihoto: And so the campaigns continue. Not because elections are near…but because decisions remain as they were in 1969.
(Lights fade slowly. Distant campaign songs continue echoing endlessly in darkness. Never fully disappearing.)
