You Don’t Listen you , Smora One Day 👀

 

No one’s asking you to turn into a political fanatic, but one thing is clear: staying quiet and ignorant only fattens the system.

There’s this thing we love to say: ignorance is bliss. And honestly, that statement has aged badly, especially in matters governance and politics. Because while you’re out here vibing, thinking you’re minding your own business, the world around you is burning, and you’re inhaling the smoke.

If you’re still singing “I don’t do politics” in big 25, I’m judging you. Chomi, look around, politics will do you whether you like it or not. Hapa tutawacha kushangaza wahenga kidogo😂, because when they said: “Mtego wa panya huingia waliomo na wasiokuwamo” They knew exactly what they were saying

Every five years, we queue in the different polling stations, cast our votes, complain for a week, and then go back to vibes, and the cycle continues. Then, when things crumble, we act shocked. Rent is up, taxes are everywhere, unga is a luxury item, and suddenly everyone is a “victim of the system.” But the same system we keep ignoring is the one shaping the life we’re trying to survive.

When we say get involved and become aware of the political happenings, no one’s asking you to become a political fanatic or memorize every manifesto. But deliberately ignoring what’s happening around you and pretending it won’t affect your life comes at a cost, and a pricey one. 

" You know me, I have like three side hustles, so tax si shida.” Okay, let’s see how many side hustles you’ll have left when they keep increasing taxes on everything that moves. Because at some point, the system catches up, even with the most hardworking hustler. Let’s say you finally make it, you get rich, life is good. Then one day, you fall ill. You didn’t speak up when the health system was crumbling, when doctors were striking, when the public hospitals were ghost towns. Now you’re looking for treatment abroad, that’s extra money for travel and accommodation. Money you could have used for something else if the health care system in your country was working as it should. The system always catches up with you one way orr another 

The system doesn’t care how many times you say “si mimi ni private hospital person.” Eventually, you’ll meet a doctor who’s overworked, underpaid, and burnt out from the same system you ignored. You’ll face traffic caused by poor infrastructure, insecurity in the streets, and unpaid teachers and lecturers on strike all year-round. And suddenly it won’t be politics anymore, it’ll be your reality.

Because that’s the thing, silence is never neutral. It’s a slow, comfortable kind of surrender. Desmond Tutu said it best: “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” You think you’re choosing peace, but really, you’re giving chaos more room to breathe. You keep scrolling, you mute conversations, you laugh it off with “that’s just how things are.” But every time we normalize the madness, the bar drops lower. Until one day, you look around and realize mediocrity became policy, and we all clapped for it.

Silence doesn’t shield you; it simply postpones the blow. You might think you’re minding your own business, but your “own business” runs on the same systems as everyone else’s roads, security, governance, and education. The moment the foundation shakes, your comfort shakes too. You can’t build your dreams on sinking ground and act shocked when the floor caves in.

Something to note is, ignorance didn’t start in adulthood. It was nurtured early. Remember back in school when they’d hold “elections,” and you’d vote, but they’d still announce someone else? That’s where they first taught us that our voices don’t matter. That’s where they planted that “why bother” mentality. They destroyed our trust in systems, and we carried that apathy into adulthood. But that’s a story for another day.

One of the issues we face is how we treat elections. We treat elections like popularity contests, a he-said-she-said circus. We pick leaders based on tribe, aura, slogans, and impractical promises that sound good on campaign posters. We laugh, take selfies at rallies, and forget to ask the real questions. We shrug and say, “you know how politics are,” then proceed to elect people with graft charges, assault accusations. murder charges, and pending court cases, and still act surprised when things start to go mulama.

In the famous words of Mr. Zimba, “You don’t listen you, Smora one day…”

And honestly, maybe that’s us, the nation that never listens until the lesson becomes personal.

Before the “sasa unataka niwe na post story za politics kila siku?” crowd comes for me, relax. That’s not the point. It’s not about posting daily; it’s about being intentional. Start small, have those conversations with your friends, your family, even your group chats. Use your page to share credible information, to break down what’s really happening.

Look at what happened with the Finance Bill: people came together both online and offline, broke down complex policies, explained how they affected everyday life, and made others aware. That’s the power of showing up. And even now, people are still doing it, reading, analyzing, and unpacking new bills and laws so that no one is left behind. 

Yet even with all that, there are still those who say, “Hakuna kitu itachange,” or “Even if you talk, nothing will change.” And honestly, it makes you wonder, have we not learned from history? Silence has never saved anyone. The freedoms, opportunities, and rights we enjoy today exist because someone, somewhere, refused to stay quiet. They spoke up, organized, marched, wrote, they made noise when silence felt safer.

Ignorance isn’t bliss; it’s borrowed comfort. It’s scrolling past injustice and calling it peace. It’s closing your eyes and convincing yourself that because it doesn’t touch you today, it won’t reach you tomorrow. But it always does. Slowly. Quietly. Expensively.

Politics isn’t about politicians, it’s about the people. Those who are affected by it. It's who stays silent long enough for it to keep hurting them. So maybe the real bliss isn’t in ignorance, but in awareness. In asking why. In showing up, however small the step may seem. 

And maybe the next time you say, “I don’t do politics,” you should ask yourself, WHAT HAPPENS WHEN POLITICS FINALLY DOES YOU?