10/16/2025
๐ ๐๐ซ๐ข๐๐ฎ๐ญ๐ ๐ญ๐จ ๐๐จ๐ง. ๐๐๐ข๐ฅ๐: ๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ซ๐ข๐ฌ๐จ๐ง๐๐ซ ๐๐ก๐จ ๐
๐ซ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง
Not many men would spend their years,
Pouring sweat, blood, and tears,
For a dream beyond their own
A nationโs hope, a peopleโs home.
Not many men would give their prime,
Trading freedom, trading time,
For chains and cells in midnightโs gloom,
So othersโ dreams could rise and bloom.
Not many hear the call of pain,
Yet walk back into fire again.
But Raila did, unbowed, unbent,
His life a torch of testament.
They locked his body, caged his voice,
But could not silence Kenyaโs choice.
For every wall they built in fear,
He turned to bridges year by year.
He fought not for a throne of gold,
But ballots free, and truth retold.
He carved democracyโs mighty way,
So we could stand and speak today.
We mourn a lion, gone to rest,
But honour him in every breath.
His name, a covenant we keep,
A promise whispered when we weep.
Though earth may claim his mortal frame,
We march forever in his name.
A tribute by Ziana Otoyi
05/10/2025
04/19/2025
06/18/2024