WHEN THE BAOBAB FALLS: ANCESTRAL DEMAND FOR JUSTICE IN KENYA
Hearken, children of the sacred soil, for the drums of the ancients echo across the plains, from Ouagadougou to Nairobi. The winds carry the scent of burning tears and the unyielding fire of a generation that refuses to be silenced. When a son of Africa, Ibrahim Traoré, stands before the council of elders (the African Union) and demands an accounting for the blood spilled in Kenya, the ancestors themselves lean in to listen.
I. THE ANCESTORS SPEAK ON POWER
"Woe unto the shepherd who drinks the milk but breaks the legs of the flock!"—so goes the proverb of the wise ones. True leadership is not seized; it is bestowed by the people, guarded by integrity, and measured in the well-being of the least among them. When the youth—the sharpened spear of the future—are cut down in the streets, the spirits ask: "Who gave this order? Who looked away?"
William Ruto, once a man who spoke of "hustlers," now sits in a house built with the stones of betrayal. The ancestors frown upon leaders who forget where they came from. Did the blood of protesters pave your road to power? If so, the earth itself will reject your legacy.
II. THE SPIRIT OF RESISTANCE LIVES
Kenya is no stranger to the fire of defiance. From the Mau Mau to the Saba Saba uprisings, the land remembers those who stood against oppression. Now, a new generation marches, not with spears, but with hashtags and bare hands—yet their courage is the same. The ancestors whisper: "A government that fears its own children has already lost its way."
When Traoré calls for an AU investigation, he does not speak alone. The ghosts of Thomas Sankara, Wangari Maathai, and Dedan Kimathi stand beside him. They ask: "If not now, when? If not Africa, who?"
III. THE JUDGMENT OF HISTORY
The African Union was not built to shield the powerful—it was meant to unite the people. If it stays silent as bullets tear through the chests of unarmed youth, then what separates it from the colonial courts of old? Traoré’s demand is a test: Will Africa police its own, or will it look away as brothers become tyrants?
The ancestors warn: "A throne built on bones will crumble beneath its king." Ruto must choose—will he answer the cries of his people, or will he be remembered as another strongman who forgot that power is borrowed, not owned?
IV. A BLESSING FOR THE PEOPLE
To the youth of Kenya:
The elders see your pain. Your blood is not water. Your voices are not noise. You are the living prophecy of a Africa that refuses to kneel. Walk with the wisdom of the old and the fire of the young—but do not let your anger burn you alone.
To the leaders of Africa:
The ancestors are watching. When the people speak, it is not rebellion—it is the divine correcting the imbalance. He who rules by fear will be swallowed by it.
May the righteous rise. May the guilty tremble. May Africa remember herself.
ASHÉ. AMEN. AWON."