This is because unlike the Mau Mau war, which was a just struggle for the country's independence, Kenyans and their so-called liberation struggles have in the recent past portrayed a tremendous willingness to walk on the path of self-destruction  that  is synonymous with many African countries torn apart by civil strife. And while much ink has been spilled on the tribal politics that recently brought previously unimagined suffering and close to Kenya's potential fall from grace, little attention has been given to the looming war between classes within the society. Although the book Not Yet Uhuru continues to gather dust on shelves, the ghostly writing of the late Oginga Odinga in the late 1960s has awaken to haunt Kenyans as they prepare to celebrate Jamhuri day. In his text, which arguably was Kenya' most authoritative manuscript on the country's pre- and post-independence political history at the time, Oginga dared to argue that Kenya's formal declaration of independence in 1963 was merely a façade. Now, Decades later, the unfolding social-political events in recent times ensures that his words resonate as they did back then when Oginga opined that the government led by the incoming Kenyan government at the time was as oppressive as the previous colonial regime.

It shall be recalled that the colonisation of Africa, including Kenya, was part of Europe's Scramble for Africa that was designed to exploit its cheap labour and rich resources. As it turned out, despite the liberation that was achieved subsequent to the shed of blood by the freedom fighters in pursuit of our freedom, the exit of the British in 1963 did not bring prosperity to Kenya. Instead, the incoming government took over the machinery of oppression left by the colonisers, which was later awarded to and perfected by the now retired President Daniel Arap Moi in 1978. However, in 2003, KANU's defeat by the Narc Coalition gave Kenyans a reason to celebrate yet another half-baked moment of liberation, in somewhat similar fashion to that of 1963. Despite the end of Moi's corrupt and brutal regime, the optimism brought by the new era was euphoric, utopian and short-lived. Indeed, this was surprising, particularly because the Narc government was voted on a platform of constitutional change as well as with the condition of fighting corruption. But built on the remnant of the colonial system, the Coalition failed to deliver on both fronts.  And as the wheels of power continued to turn, the economic hardships fell on Kenyans while corruption benefitted the architects of scandals, such as the Anglo-leasing, as it had enriched those of Goldenberg during the Moi era. In the end, as with the elections in 1992, 1997 and 2003, the aftermath of the 2007 polls witnessed the commission of crimes against humanity as the major tribes came close to putting all of Kenya's ethnic groups up in arms against each other.

But what many failed to see was that the ethnic violence was also, essentially, a ‘war' between the rich and the poor. Although largely masqueraded as a tribal affair, the resulting violence had several fronts, which included a clash between the classes in the Kenya society. This was most evident in Nairobi where the youth, mostly jobless, took advantage of the national threat to peace and security and looted in many areas, as well as damaged tons of property. However, as their servants fought it out, the rich in Karen, Muthaiga, Westlands and other affluent areas lived in peace as thousands of others were summarily driven from their homes in Kibera, Mathare and Dandora. During this time, in addition to the tribal dynamic, being poor in Kenya became a crime. Therefore, the value of the Kenyan was hinged on the tribe and accessible wealth, which was basically the phenomenon that the Mau Mau fought against. What is clear is that the poverty and hopelessness of the majority in Kenya made them increasingly vulnerable to political manipulation. And in the process, the wealth, malice, money, power and influence that the rich possess weakened the majority of Kenya's ordinary citizens and epitomised Mwalimu Nyerere's description of Kenya as ‘a man eat man society'.

In spite of the above, Kenya has previously been known as the ‘island of peace', the beacon of democracy and hope for Africa. Yet the underlying tensions have led to disturbing questions in regard to whether the national motto of ‘peace love and unity' is sustainable in a politically charged country of 43 ethnic groups. What is more, the recent opposition by MPs to have their immense salaries taxed points to the harsh reality of a country ruled by wealthy politicians who serve their own interests, when not acting as pawns for other forces that operate behind the scenes. Naturally, this means that unless Kenya fundamentally changes the country's legal system, land policy, education system, and implements strong anti-tribalism laws before the next general election, its legacy shall remain the sad ugly story of a great country's retreat from the strong values that its fore-fathers fought for and were willing to die for. And since it is now clear that the symbolic change of governments shall not in itself solve Kenya's problems, its citizens should celebrate this year's Jamhuri day with the courage to confront their past and ask fundamental questions with respect to what the real liberators sought to achieve during those dark colonial days. It is then that it shall become clear that in the vision of our freedom fighters, who selflessly fought for the country's original liberation, lies a future of Kenya's peace and prosperity.