(Early morning in Gituamba village. Roosters crowing. Children sweeping compounds. Women lighting cooking fires. Goats bleating lazily. Then suddenly— A loud voice tears through the morning.)
Kunda Ngûtûme: (running breathlessly across stage) Mûkoimíra na tuondo na tûmíhuko! Mûthí wa rûciû mûnene níagoka!
Crowd: (excitedly repeating) Tuondo! Tûmíhuko! Tuondo! Tûmíhuko!
Mzee Kihoto: In Lari…news does not travel politely. It explodes. And whenever leaders are coming…people do not first ask; “Why?” They ask; “What should we carry?”
(Villagers rush around preparing. Women searching for baskets. Young men tying sacks hurriedly. Old men adjusting coats. Children running excitedly.)
Young Man: (tying sack eagerly) Even if it is peanuts… peanuts are still something.
Old Woman: A leader who arrives empty-handed…is not a leader. He is merely a visitor without respect like something coming from a latrine.
(Laughter. The journey. Villagers begin walking long distances together. Some barefoot. Some tired. Others singing political songs loudly to hide exhaustion. Dust rising behind them.)
Crowd: From Nyanduma! From Kamburu! From Kijabe! From Kinale! From Kirenga!
Mzee Kihoto: Distance does not matter in Lari. People walk for miles to get a packet of unga or rice. Hope is lighter than hunger. And expectation carries itself willingly.
(Lights shift. Kimende primary school grounds. Huge gathering. Vehicles parked dramatically. Campaign banners everywhere. Cameras visible immediately. Everything carefully staged.)
Aspirant One: (stepping out grandly) My people!
Crowd: Mwana witu! Our leader!
Mzee Kihoto: Observe carefully. This is not generosity. This is choreography.
Kunda Ngûtûme: Line up properly! One by one! Let the cameras see you clearly!
(Villagers form organized queues holding; baskets, sacks, containers.)
Aspirant Two: (whispering to cameraman) Capture; the youth, the old women, and the children. It looks more emotional that way.
(The giving. Beans, maize, rice, and seedlings distributed slowly. Painfully slowly. Everything staged for cameras. Each handshake repeated carefully.)
Crowd: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
Mzee Kihoto: They must be seen receiving. Not once. Not twice. But repeatedly. Clearly. Emotionally. Publicly.
Old Woman: (aside quietly) We are being fed like chickens…but recorded like criminals. Is beans worthy to be seen as beggars on national television?
Young Man: (posing with 2 kilos sack proudly) Wait! Take the photo again!
(Camera flashes repeatedly. After the event. Villagers walking home carrying goods proudly. The mood strangely victorious.)
Crowd: It was a good day! We received something!
Mzee Kihoto: In Lari…a “good leader” is first measured in kilograms.
Old Woman: And later…in regrets.
Young Man: Another meeting tomorrow, right?
(Suddenly Kunda Ngûtûme appears again like a political prophet.)
Kunda Ngûtûme: Yes! Another leader is arriving tomorrow morning!
Crowd: (excited again) Tuondo! Tûmíhuko! Tuondo! Tûmíhuko!
(Lights shift slowly. Kanda worire. Quiet homestead. No crowds. No music. No banners. No vehicles. Only silence. Gichuka Waithera enters quietly. He knocks gently.)
Mzee Kihoto: Then came a man…who refused the stage.
Gichuka Waithera: I came to talk.
Villager: (confused) Where is the meeting?
Gichuka Waithera: Here.
Villager: Where are the handouts?
Gichuka Waithera: I brought a conversation.
(Long silence.)
Villager: (worried) Should we call others?
Gichuka Waithera: No. I came to you directly.
(Word spreads slowly. Villagers gather cautiously. But now; no baskets, no sacks, no excitement. Only suspicion.)
Crowd: Why is he not calling us to Open Grounds? Why no tuondo? Why no tûmíhuko?
Young Man: (uneasy) How do we receive…without carrying something?
Old Woman: This man is disturbing the system that feed us.
Gichuka Waithera: What if leadership is not something people queue for? What if leadership visits you…without humiliating your dignity first?
(The villagers fall silent. Uncomfortable. Confused.)
Mzee Kihoto: He removed the spectacle…and suddenly the people missed the humiliation.
Young Man: This feels empty.
Old Woman: No. It feels unfamiliar.
(Lights shift slowly.)
Mzee Kihoto: Lari is not hungry for food alone. It is hungry for dignity…even when it forgets.
Old Woman: One day…we shall stop carrying baskets and sacks for politicians.
(Pause.)
Young Man: …and politicians shall finally begin carrying responsibility for us.
(Lights fade slowly. Far away, faint echoes still heard; distant voices. Tuondo…tûmíhuko…)
Kunda Ngûtûme: (running breathlessly across stage) Mûkoimíra na tuondo na tûmíhuko! Mûthí wa rûciû mûnene níagoka!
Crowd: (excitedly repeating) Tuondo! Tûmíhuko! Tuondo! Tûmíhuko!
Mzee Kihoto: In Lari…news does not travel politely. It explodes. And whenever leaders are coming…people do not first ask; “Why?” They ask; “What should we carry?”
(Villagers rush around preparing. Women searching for baskets. Young men tying sacks hurriedly. Old men adjusting coats. Children running excitedly.)
Young Man: (tying sack eagerly) Even if it is peanuts… peanuts are still something.
Old Woman: A leader who arrives empty-handed…is not a leader. He is merely a visitor without respect like something coming from a latrine.
(Laughter. The journey. Villagers begin walking long distances together. Some barefoot. Some tired. Others singing political songs loudly to hide exhaustion. Dust rising behind them.)
Crowd: From Nyanduma! From Kamburu! From Kijabe! From Kinale! From Kirenga!
Mzee Kihoto: Distance does not matter in Lari. People walk for miles to get a packet of unga or rice. Hope is lighter than hunger. And expectation carries itself willingly.
(Lights shift. Kimende primary school grounds. Huge gathering. Vehicles parked dramatically. Campaign banners everywhere. Cameras visible immediately. Everything carefully staged.)
Aspirant One: (stepping out grandly) My people!
Crowd: Mwana witu! Our leader!
Mzee Kihoto: Observe carefully. This is not generosity. This is choreography.
Kunda Ngûtûme: Line up properly! One by one! Let the cameras see you clearly!
(Villagers form organized queues holding; baskets, sacks, containers.)
Aspirant Two: (whispering to cameraman) Capture; the youth, the old women, and the children. It looks more emotional that way.
(The giving. Beans, maize, rice, and seedlings distributed slowly. Painfully slowly. Everything staged for cameras. Each handshake repeated carefully.)
Crowd: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
Mzee Kihoto: They must be seen receiving. Not once. Not twice. But repeatedly. Clearly. Emotionally. Publicly.
Old Woman: (aside quietly) We are being fed like chickens…but recorded like criminals. Is beans worthy to be seen as beggars on national television?
Young Man: (posing with 2 kilos sack proudly) Wait! Take the photo again!
(Camera flashes repeatedly. After the event. Villagers walking home carrying goods proudly. The mood strangely victorious.)
Crowd: It was a good day! We received something!
Mzee Kihoto: In Lari…a “good leader” is first measured in kilograms.
Old Woman: And later…in regrets.
Young Man: Another meeting tomorrow, right?
(Suddenly Kunda Ngûtûme appears again like a political prophet.)
Kunda Ngûtûme: Yes! Another leader is arriving tomorrow morning!
Crowd: (excited again) Tuondo! Tûmíhuko! Tuondo! Tûmíhuko!
(Lights shift slowly. Kanda worire. Quiet homestead. No crowds. No music. No banners. No vehicles. Only silence. Gichuka Waithera enters quietly. He knocks gently.)
Mzee Kihoto: Then came a man…who refused the stage.
Gichuka Waithera: I came to talk.
Villager: (confused) Where is the meeting?
Gichuka Waithera: Here.
Villager: Where are the handouts?
Gichuka Waithera: I brought a conversation.
(Long silence.)
Villager: (worried) Should we call others?
Gichuka Waithera: No. I came to you directly.
(Word spreads slowly. Villagers gather cautiously. But now; no baskets, no sacks, no excitement. Only suspicion.)
Crowd: Why is he not calling us to Open Grounds? Why no tuondo? Why no tûmíhuko?
Young Man: (uneasy) How do we receive…without carrying something?
Old Woman: This man is disturbing the system that feed us.
Gichuka Waithera: What if leadership is not something people queue for? What if leadership visits you…without humiliating your dignity first?
(The villagers fall silent. Uncomfortable. Confused.)
Mzee Kihoto: He removed the spectacle…and suddenly the people missed the humiliation.
Young Man: This feels empty.
Old Woman: No. It feels unfamiliar.
(Lights shift slowly.)
Mzee Kihoto: Lari is not hungry for food alone. It is hungry for dignity…even when it forgets.
Old Woman: One day…we shall stop carrying baskets and sacks for politicians.
(Pause.)
Young Man: …and politicians shall finally begin carrying responsibility for us.
(Lights fade slowly. Far away, faint echoes still heard; distant voices. Tuondo…tûmíhuko…)
