Dear Madame Heavens,
I have been watching you.
I must confess, I always thought yours was a curious name, but you have been true to its meaning, and what a fine job you have done!
You smile as you speak, but your smile does not reach your eyes. It clearly is not Botox, because the furrows on your forehead are as clear as the missing billions. But your eyes, your eyes are cold. Not from your air conditioned office, or perhaps it’s the air up there on your high horse that is making you look slightly dead, but only in your eyes.
Yes. A fine job you are doing.
And no, please do not step aside. Had we foolish Kenyans known, we would all be barking up the same tree, you know the one; the one that wields all the power.
Your world must be made of rose petals, but only the freshest and sweetest of them. The stems and their thorns must have been tossed out, lest they make for a sore sight for your already cold eyes. What did you say Madame Heavens? They did not seek your permission to throw out the stems? That throwing out stems is not your business anyway? Right, apologies Madame Heavens, let someone else suffer the pain as you shoot yourself in the foot.
But do not tire your cold eyes, go ahead and turn away, Big Daddy has got your back… The rest of Kenya can only hope to be someone’s Sweetie.
Looking forward to the next elections.