Humour: Here is the rightful man to unseat Uhuru.

I am a Kenyan, reformist, nationalist and a strategic leader. Utterly, true, the English meaning takes it. However, in action Kenyans honestly differ. I don't really say Kenyans are hypocrites; though not edified to any better, Kenyans are term cautious. Yes, it's good to mention the unintended truth hygienically.

A tribalist is a nationalist, a hate monk reformist; whoever is in controversies - from 'hilariously' razing the opponents to every scandal- is a strategist. Strategists are human right activist, they fight for their own rights-definitely the right of the people.

They always deserve pity; saying 'I was fixed'; hygienic for;'I took way with your money for I was voted in without a real agenda other than insulting my opponents'. Don't talk of manifestoes, remember the double-digit growth; sketchy, in reality, manifestos are the hygienic precursor to a marring government.

Notably, I am ideally and strategically to the topmost seat. The one you will salivate seeing me eat meat, cosy; and then tease about tickling your empty stomachs. True, man can't live on bread alone, Kenyans can lonely live on politicians teasy laughter descending like drumbeats.

I will speak out to be what you like, I am tribalist - for the tribe of the poor- a hatemonk and again controversial as you admire. To be pitied, I don't have to promote international justice by taking the 'small personal problem' that requires me to 'cooperate' with the ICC despite some challenges of witness intimidation. Right from my doorstep, I am smeared with issues which I don't deserve and so unfair to my people.

It started back in May, when I spurred my yonder village for a month. Bitterly, restarting I lost my left ear, in a local pub, when an evil-minded Kimiti grew unbearable to the event I snugged with a woman he had never gazed at decently.

Initially, this Kimiti had been deceived by his loose hand that always adhere to any swaying skirt; a virtue that Carolina admires him for. Briefly, Carolina is a general facility to foster fantasy for every man in board; the fact she can undo your pocket not dilapidated, though.

However, her featuring around with anyone she sniffs minted paper went incoherent to the inconsiderate old bachelor. Wondering why she dodged him when the pocket ran out; he agitatedly mouthed my ear.

 Here, a boldfaced death backed, forget my lost organ, pain? Think of the flank impact it dared with my wife. Meanwhile, Carolina jittery withdrew like she had just spotted Jesus return; running out to the dark.

I will speak out this uncertainty, for hate or else, as it is the voice of the oppressed- as our hate monks brats- I am married to Doreen Winifred Anyinya , a serious woman who have never decided any simpler in a chosen battle.

From her fist, agreeably, what a man can do a woman can do better. Again, Anyinya couldn't imagine facing Carolina; who claimed not to cow of whatever whirls that comes. Again, the buxom, Carolina, is known of her prowess in containing every coming fist by the elbow with her immediate answer being extra- judicial.

So, well spoken, Anyinya, wasn't to dare Carolina; instead, my discharge would instantly deuce the arrears. Ideally, right from my hospital bed, I requested her to come abreast a man of God. See, I thought salvation was to clean everything inclusive sins against my wife.

Unfortunately, despite her pastor's hands cupping my head, she never thought a motive to forsake a sworn battle. After I was discharged I met her in concrete.

Right, her fist well-being shouldn't be likened to domestic supremacy; hygienically; inability is not a disability. She also never battled me. Hygienically, she says, you fought yourself.

Moreover, I needed no heathen to contemplate where she said, hygienically; the peacemaker called you forever; I tried. Unfortunately, my old mundane friends were sworn to believe it was wrong being that obedient. To then, this is physical and mental intimidation.

True. However, the accusation subjects me to extreme jeopardy- as our corrupt politicians' defense. About the fist is fully fixed and meant to kill me politically- like a Kenyan, I will object. The fact that she maneuvered me indoor and my masculinity never advised me to yell; is enough to file out the case. For us Kenyan, hidden truth absolutely becomes a lie.

Ideally, I am in a turnout force: " Democracy For All(DFA) party" whose slogan is a "ndoto ya maskini huwaja". Logo, a malnourished boy at a road break and a party blooming anthem ' mzoga hauliwi' ;whose insight is to insult the spendthrift politicians, and vote in aspirant from my tribe- the tribe of the poor. Our slogan is 'kuna giza nuruni'. Vote me, 2017.

But for me I am not likely to vote for myself. I vote for real leaders you people reject. Funny, most bad leaders don't vote for themselves, guilt will kill them, blind Kenyans vote for them.