By Remmy Butia
When our national anthem lifts its voice – “O God of all creation, bless this our land and nation…” – it asks us to dwell in unity, peace and liberty. We sing it in stadiums, in county halls, and at rallies. We raise the Kenyan flag high and steady. Yet, as the political temperature climbs, the words we sing are too often betrayed by the words we speak and the actions we take.
Across towns, estates, and villages, an ugly sickness spreads: hate disguised as politics. Friends and neighbours who once shared tea and stories now measure each other by party colours. Communities that have built their lives together for decades find themselves pulled apart by rhetoric that thrives on fear and division. This is not the Kenya our forebears imagined; it is not the Kenya our children deserve.
The stakes are more than political victory. When hate becomes acceptable, the social fabric that holds us together frays. Schools become battlegrounds of suspicion, markets see fewer familiar faces, and cooperative societies – the backbone of many livelihoods – waver under tension. Lives are hurt, livelihoods disrupted, and trust, once lost, is hard to rebuild. We must ask: where is Kenya headed if we let division win?
Leaders – elected and moral – carry special responsibility. It is striking and sorrowful when the same lips that join the anthem later give voice to words that wound. Institutions meant to protect unity sometimes look on powerless; in other instances, they are implicated. Religious spaces that ought to be sanctuaries of compassion can become platforms for anger. And the uniform meant to reassure the public is occasionally associated with intimidation. These contradictions deepen the sense that our national promises are fragile.
But Kenya is more than the moments of discord. We are a tapestry of communities – different histories, languages, livelihoods – woven together by mutual dependence and common hope. Our towns thrive because traders trust customers; our farms succeed because neighbours share labour and seed; our politics should exist to better these lives, not imperil them. Unity is not a surrender of identity; it is the recognition that we are stronger together.
So what do we need now?
- Humility from leaders. True leadership listens, calms, and refuses to inflame. A leader who loves Kenya will choose the long arc of national interest over short-term gains.
- Courage from citizens. Saying no to hate takes bravery. It means refusing to forward a poisonous message, intervening when friends dehumanise others, and voting with conscience, not grievance.
- Vigilance from institutions. Bodies tasked with cohesion and security must be independent, active, and accountable. Their work must restore trust through action, not rhetoric.
- Stewardship from religious and community leaders. Places of worship and community platforms should heal, not harden. Spiritual authority must call people toward peace.
- Reinvestment in shared spaces. Markets, schools, sports, and cultural events are where bonds are rebuilt. Supporting these spaces restores everyday trust.
We must also think beyond the next election cycle. “We need Kenya beyond 2027” is not a slogan; it is a covenant with future generations. This means agreeing on rules that are respected, ensuring justice is seen to be done, and making sure economic opportunities spread widely so that politics becomes a tool for progress, not survival.
There are practical steps we can take now. Encourage dialogue forums at the grassroots; support local peace committees; demand transparency from institutions; use social media to amplify unity stories; and celebrate the everyday acts of kindness that remind us what we can be. Each small act of reconciliation, each conversation across difference, is a stitch that mends the national fabric.
Finally, remember the anthem not as an obligation but as a promise. When we sing “In common bond united, build this our nation together,” we are making a living pledge. If leaders falter, let citizens rise. If institutions hesitate, let communities act. If rhetoric darkens, let love be louder.
I call for peace. I call for love. I call for unity – not as empty words, but as daily practice. Kenya’s future is not predetermined. It is made by our choices today: by the courage to speak truth kindly, by the strength to resist hatred, and by the faith to build a country where every child can grow in safety and dignity.
Where is Kenya headed? That answer rests with us. Let us choose a path where the anthem’s hopes are more than words – let them be the guideposts of our shared tomorrow.
