Looking forward to see last of Uhuru Kenyatta and Raila Odinga

President Uhuru Kenyatta and Raila Odinga during Mzee Jomo Kenyatta's 38th Anniversary memorial service at Holy family Basilica, Nairobi. [File, Standard]

Hey, what difference a year makes! One year ago this week, folks were preparing to either vote or boycott the repeat presidential election and rivers, crocodiles, and the promised land were more than just the butt of lame political jokes. The country was on the brink of a massive psychotic break after months and months of barb-slinging, hate-speaking and general nastiness.

It felt like we were on the precipice, begging to be pushed off the edge because the chest-thumping and grandstanding on both sides of the tribal divide had become too much. But ultimately, the moment passed and life went on.

All the emotions that voters had stockpiled on behalf of their ‘big men’ were pushed down the gut of the electorate. Even those who went through the motions to celebrate a hollow victory felt the discomfort of what was probably the most anti-climactic election event in the history of Kenya.

And now of course, we are all dealing with the consequences of a severely handicapped leadership. Whether you voted or boycotted, we are all subject to the cavalier policies of a government that has been chasing its tail for months now, some might say years. Which is annoying as all hell.

Oh, how I wish that was the only thing that’s stupidly annoying, but there’s a long list of things that will grate on your nerves in this Kenya of ours. One of them is people who are either so averse or so indifferent to punctuation that every sentence they write reads like a paragraph that starts on a big breath and ends on a whimper because full stops and commas have not been invited to the party.

Absolute truth

Another is labels, specifically in the area of gender relations. I used to be a fan but now I’m just tired. Terms like patriarchy, misandry, problematic intersectionality, misogyny, ageism, ‘pick-meism’, ‘whataboutism’, ‘queer-antagonism’, and so many others only serve to exclude the majority of non-academic readers.

If you can’t say it in simple English – if that’s the language you have chosen to use - then you’re basically talking to yourself. Also, performance-intellectualism is so unattractive. Something else that’s been getting on my last nerve these days is feminism. When various aspects of convoluted feminist theory are assimilated by radicals, and then presented as the absolute truth, the river between men, women, and other women begins to muddy.

I’ve spent the better part of a week going through angry and abusive Twitter threads in the most fantastic showing of woman-on-woman violence that I’ve seen in a while; all because there is a ‘feminism bible’ and unbelievers are not welcome at the table. This leads me to something else that irks: Online bullies. They really are the worst of the worst.

There are many other things that buzz around my bonnet, keeping me up at night, and messing with my peace of mind; like being called bitter, single, childless and toxic. It really hurts me that people can’t be more imaginative with their insults. I will also lose my smile real quick when men are being deliberatelyobtuse about the role they play in the insecurity of women.

Unpredictable nature

Other things that bug me are folks who suck up to celebrities, my house girl going through my underwear draw and mornings, Sunday nights and weekdays in general. Also, the cruel and unpredictable nature of death, pizza with pineapple on it, the creamy residue on those greens that are cooked and re-cooked for a week and Zuku. Just so you know, Zuku and death are interchangeable.

But the one thing that really gets me going is the cruel and predictable nature of politics, and the callousness of those who practice it.

Those people of ‘my brother this’ and ‘my brother that’ are the worst of the worst. When innocent men, women and children are killed because ‘brothers’ have disagreed, those brothers should not have the luxury of moving on. It’s like looking life in the face and spitting in it.

So it is my fervent hope and prayer that after his fractious term in office, the current occupant of State House will pack his bags and leave peacefully.

That he will put up his feet and luxuriate in the fat pension the taxpayer will be paying for the rest of his life. As for the High Representative for Infrastructure Development in Africa, may he walk happily into the African Union sunset to live out the rest of his days on the continent, reminiscing on a legacy that could have been great, but in the end was woefully mediocre.

Ms Masiga is Peace and Security Editor, The Conversation Africa