One of the names political leaders increasingly use to cheapen one another is mafala or wanjinga—words for fools, people without sense or wisdom. Rivals throw these words to ridicule and diminish. We hear them, laugh, cheer and move on. But perhaps we should pause before we laugh.
There is an uncomfortable truth behind the insult: the people being called fools did not appoint themselves. We elected them. If the leader we chose turns out incompetent, reckless or dishonest, we must ask what happened to our own judgment.
The insult is aimed at the politician, but part of its shadow falls back on the electorate. Do not laugh when the people you elected are called mafala. The joke may be on you too.
This is not to say voters can perfectly predict what a leader will become. But where warning signs were visible and we ignored them, we must examine ourselves.
The Bible calls persistent, wilful wrong choices sin—not merely a mistake, but choosing what we know to be wrong, excusing what we condemn when it benefits us. And the biblical response to sin is not regret. It is repentance—turning around. If we confess yesterday’s political sins but repeat them tomorrow, we have expressed regret, not repentance. So the question is not simply “Who should we vote for?” but “What sins must we repent of before we vote again?”
Civic repentance
We must repent of confusing religious language with moral character. We have let “Hallelujah!” do political work that only character and integrity can do. Prayer is not a substitute for discernment. A politician may quote Scripture and still lack integrity. Ask not only, “Can this person say ‘Praise the Lord’?” but “Can this person tell the truth, serve justly and be trusted with power?” A praying nation must also become a discerning one.
We must repent of tribal idolatry. There is nothing sinful about belonging to a tribe. But when tribe becomes the highest qualification for leadership, identity becomes an idol. We have voted for people because they are “one of us,” excused their failures because they come from our community. The same applies to party colours—a party is not a substitute for conscience.
Your tribesman is just that—your tribesman. You want more: competence, integrity, courage, justice. The question is not “Is he one of us?” but “Is he fit to serve all of us?” When we excuse corruption because “our person is eating,” we have surrendered morality to ethnicity.
We must repent of allowing money to purchase political loyalty. Handouts, school fees and funerals create the illusion that the richest candidate is the most capable. But money is not character. A vote sold today may cost years of lost accountability tomorrow. My vote is not for sale. My conscience is not for hire.We must repent of borrowed judgment. Listen to pastors, analysts, family—there is wisdom in listening. But listen, then think for yourself. Read. Investigate. Question. Listen widely—but think independently.
We must confront the sin behind political name-calling. When leaders call one another mafala and wanjinga, ask not only whether the insult is fair, but who put them in office. Wisdom is not recognising foolish leadership after the fact. It is refusing to keep electing it.
Repentance
Finally, we must repent of political hopelessness. “Better the devil we know” is not wisdom—it is surrender. Neither is “They are all the same.” They are not. Kenya has competent, honest people capable of public service without turning office into private harvest. Repentance means recovering hope: not naïve optimism, but the moral courage to believe better is possible, and to search for it.
If mafala describes the voter who chose badly, what name describes the leader who made it profitable, or necessary, for them to do so?
This repentance is addressed also to you: the candidate who budgets for handouts before policy, the strategist who calculates which fear wins which ward, the gatekeeper who withholds the truth. You did not only exploit foolishness. You cultivated it, because it serves you. Repent of building mafala, not merely of being called it.
If mafala and wanjinga describe people perceived to lack wisdom, repentance opens another possibility: we can become wabusara and wahekima—people of wisdom, discernment and sound judgment. But these labels must be earned. We become wahekima not by saying we are wise, but by making wise choices. Wisdom is demonstrated at the ballot. When we examine character rather than tribe, we are becoming wahekima. When we choose integrity rather than money, we are becoming wabusara.
When we refuse hopelessness and search for better leadership, we are becoming wabusara. Each of these is small. None is dramatic. But this is how a nation’s character changes—in the accumulated weight of small, repeated, faithful choices.
The Church must do more than pray for better leaders. It must help form better citizens—without letting the pulpit become a campaign platform, or the altar a place where discernment goes to rest. Perhaps our prayer should change. Not only, “God, give us better leaders.” But also, “God, make us better citizens.”
Forgive us for confusing religious excitement with discernment, for letting parties replace conscience, money purchase our loyalty and tribe replace truth. Then transform us—into citizens who love truth more than propaganda, integrity more than money, justice more than tribe and hope more than despair.
Because repentance is not proved by what we say about yesterday. It is proved by what we do differently tomorrow. The next election will not only test our politicians. It will test our repentance.
We have seen where these sins lead. We have lived with their consequences. We have complained about the results. Now comes the harder question: have we repented enough to choose differently?
So let us pray—but let us also think. Let us believe—but let us also discern. Let us hope—but let us also act. And when we enter the voting booth, let us remember: the ballot is not merely a political choice. It is a moral trust.
This time, let us not confess the sins of the past. Let us turn from them.
