From the look of things, this is Kenya's apocalyptic moment

Residents of Nanyuki light barricades and chant anti-Ebola slogans during protests against a proposed US-supported Ebola quarantine facility at Laikipia Air Base. [Courtesy, Standard]

Are we facing our fate? Is this the moment in our independence history when we have to harvest what we have planted over the past 63 years? By fate, I mean the point at which the accumulated consequences of our choices gather such a force that reversing their course becomes increasingly difficult.

Or is Kenya going through an apocalyptic moment? Not the end of the world, but the unveiling of realities we have long ignored. We are in a transition. We are closing several chapters of the book called Kenya and opening a new one. How? Why?

The Good Book, in Ecclesiastes 3:1–8, contains the famous verse that there is a time for everything. What a time to be a Kenyan. From the Ebola protests in Laikipia to the deeply disturbing news of the 16 girls who died at Utumishi Girls Academy, apparently in a fire started by fellow schoolmates. And yes, there was the national protest over the fuel price increase, which now feels like a distant memory, yet it was only about three weeks ago.

Since independence, we have made remarkable strides in development. We have built a relatively strong democratic space, developed notable infrastructure, and produced highly skilled professionals, some of whom live and work abroad in prestigious positions. Kenya has every reason to be proud of many of its achievements.

Yet, we have also generated conflicts, attacked each other, destroyed property, interfered with electoral processes, failed in service delivery, and considerably let down children by repeatedly changing education systems without adequate preparation. Among the outcomes we have produced is the depletion of public resources. In the past decade, government audits have consistently revealed massive corruption in both national and county governments.

In brief, we are driving ourselves toward a destiny. A fate. Perhaps this is the true apocalyptic moment: Not that Kenya is ending, but that Kenya is being revealed to itself. The corruption we tolerated, the institutions we weakened, the values we neglected, and the divisions we nurtured are increasingly visible. And one could argue that the consequences are now arriving.

The unfortunate events of the past month, especially the deaths of the girls in a dormitory fire, raise fundamental questions about human dignity. How do young people contemplate and execute a fatal plan against fellow young people? What is this powerful motivation that overcomes conscience or blinds one to the sanctity of human life?

From a philosophical deterministic perspective, we have created enough force that escaping our fate becomes increasingly difficult. Through systemic failures in governance and a moral decline that has led children to normalise absurdities, we are left with fewer rooted systems upon which doing right, acting morally, and exercising sound judgment remain valued. The absence of these values partly explains the speed at which we seem to be descending. It may only be a matter of time before we hit rock bottom.

However, this apocalyptic moment is not our final destiny. Our future remains intact. We can still shape it. Why? Because we know from existentialism that human beings create meaning through choices.

Our ethnic framing of each other is a choice. Our love of money, which normalises corruption, is a choice. I consider the most dehumanising act to be that of children organising to kill each other. That speaks volumes about what we, the adult society, have become. We place too little value on human life, and so some children grow up believing that choosing to eliminate people they dislike is justified.

When young people can no longer instinctively recognise that setting fellow children ablaze is evil before God, we have lost a critical component of what it means to be human.

As prophets would warn, our fate is approaching. Thankfully, we are not yet defeated by it. From national leaders to village elders, we can still make choices that affirm our humanity. We can recognise that being humane toward one another generates greater happiness. We can also recognise that a flourishing society is built on fair, just, ethical, and spiritual principles. The shame of children burning each other is indeed our shame as adults.

Dr Mokua is the Executive Director, Loyola Centre for Media and Communication