Patriotism is not blind loyalty draped in flags and slogans; it is a relentless demand for accountability. True love for one’s homeland is measured not by applause at rallies, but by the courage to question, to scrutinize, and to demand answers from those entrusted with public power.
As the season of electioneering looms like thunder on the horizon, our esteemed Mandera County Government must step into the bright, unforgiving light of public audit. Let us take off the veil of piety or resemblance thereof and address bold reality. Tens of billions of shillings pass through the hands of County Administration of Governor Mohamed Adan Khalif each year, resources drawn from the sweat of citizens and the promise of national growth. Before the next vote is cast, the public must pause and examine: What was promised? What was delivered? What was quietly forgotten in the shadows of budgets and bureaucracy?

The polished image of generosity, scholarship programs, ceremonial launches, and ribbon cuttings should not lull citizens into comfortable silence. Even the most celebrated initiatives deserve scrutiny.
How large a portion of the budget do these programs truly consume? Are they transformative engines of progress, or glittering ornaments masking deeper fiscal neglect?

Grand celebrations of national and bilateral projects often echo loudly across public platforms, yet citizens must ask whether such achievements fall within the local County mandates or simply borrow prestige from external partnerships. Progress must not be measured in speeches and banners alone, but in roads completed, water delivered, hospitals equipped, and livelihoods strengthened.

When emergency interventions such as drought relief, food distribution, and water trucking are paraded as extraordinary accomplishments, caution is warranted. Such interventions are not acts of miracle; they are obligations already written into budgets and reinforced by national frameworks and humanitarian partners. They should not be mistaken for development victories, nor used to distract from unfinished promises.
A county that receives vast annual allocations carries an equally vast responsibility. The electorate must demand clarity: How much was allocated? How much was spent? What remains standing as proof of wise stewardship? Numbers must speak louder than slogans.

The time has come for voters to outgrow the narrow arithmetic of tribe, clan, or fleeting loyalty. Leadership is not a birthright tied to lineage, but a contract bound to performance. Public offices are not family heirlooms; they are sacred trusts financed by the people and owed back to the people in measurable progress.

Patriotism, therefore, is not passive admiration; it is vigilant citizenship. It is the refusal to be dazzled by spectacle or softened by familiarity. It is the steady insistence that every coin accounted for is a brick laid in the foundation of a stronger future.
And so, as ballots draw near and campaign drums begin to thunder, citizens must sharpen their questions and steady their judgment. For in the end, the true test of leadership is not how loudly promises are made, but how faithfully resources are guarded and how visibly communities rise from the investment entrusted to those in power.

In the swirling storm of public outrage that has followed last week’s punishing fuel hikes, one cannot ignore the thunderous declarations from sections of Kenya’s opposition, who now beat the drums of protest with theatrical vigor. Yes, the pain at the pump is real, felt in matatu fares, in market prices, and in the daily arithmetic of survival for the ordinary mwananchi. And yes, the roots of this increase stretch far beyond our borders, entangled in the fiery geopolitics of distant conflicts that have sent global fuel prices soaring like kites in a gale. Yet even in moments of national frustration, clarity must not be sacrificed at the altar of emotion. There is a sacred line, bright, bold, and unmistakable, between a constitutionally protected protest and a reckless plunge toward insurrection.

Let us speak plainly, without sugarcoating or timid whispers. A lawful protest is not a siege. It is not a mob laying claim to the nerve centers of the Republic. It is not a theatrical march toward State House, Parliament, or the Supreme Court with chants of occupation echoing like war cries in the wind. Such ambitions do not resemble dissent; they resemble destabilization. They do not mirror democracy; they flirt dangerously with the anatomy of a coup. No government on Earth, no matter how patient, no matter how tolerant, will sit idly as crowds march with declarations to seize the very institutions that embody state authority. To expect such passivity is to expect a lion to surrender its den to wandering hunters without resistance.

A lawful protest, in its truest and noblest form, is disciplined, purposeful, and anchored in reason. It is citizens assembling in orderly ranks, carrying the weight of their grievances not as weapons but as petitions. It is voices raised, not fists clenched; arguments delivered, not barricades erected. Protesters march to the offices where decisions are made, present their concerns with firmness and dignity, and depart with the moral authority that comes from respecting the very laws that protect their right to protest. That is the heartbeat of constitutional democracy, not chaos masquerading as courage.

When demands shift from dialogue to occupation, from persuasion to intimidation, the calculus changes dramatically. A call to “occupy” State House or Parliament is no longer the language of reform; it becomes the vocabulary of regime overthrow. In such moments, it is not only reasonable but inevitable that the state moves to shield its institutions with vigilance and force proportional to the threat before it. Governments are not ornamental statues to be admired from afar; they are guardians of order, tasked with preserving the continuity of the Republic against any tremor that threatens to fracture it.

Responsibility, therefore, must be a two-way street paved with restraint and wisdom. Citizens who conduct themselves with discipline can rightfully expect discipline in response. But to behave recklessly, hurling provocation like sparks into dry grass, while demanding gentle treatment in return is a contradiction so glaring it borders on fantasy. The laws of cause and effect do not bend simply because slogans are loud or crowds are large.

Perhaps most troubling in this unfolding drama is the unsettling pattern of political architects who ignite these movements from the safety of podiums and gated compounds, while the youth, vibrant, energetic, and often desperate for purpose, are sent to the frontlines like expendable foot soldiers in a war not entirely their own. It is a bitter irony that those who shout the loudest rarely march the farthest, and those who craft the slogans seldom face the tear gas. Even more telling is the absence of their own children in the swelling crowds they so passionately encourage. If conviction were truly equal to rhetoric, surely their sons and daughters would stand shoulder to shoulder with the masses they urge into confrontation.

Kenya stands at a crossroads where passion must be tempered by prudence and dissent guided by discipline. The nation deserves protests that illuminate injustice, not protests that cast long shadows over stability. It deserves leaders who channel youthful energy into constructive action, not leaders who weaponize that energy for political theatre. For in the grand theatre of democracy, the loudest voice is not always the wisest, and the boldest march is not always the most just.

Let us therefore choose the path of responsibility over recklessness, dialogue over domination, and lawful dissent over theatrical defiance. Only then can Kenya weather the storms of economic hardship without tearing the very fabric that holds the Republic together.

From the globally celebrated pillars of development, Water, Health, Education, and Food Security, together with the indispensable cross-cutting arteries of progress such as road networks, vibrant economic activity, and institutional growth, one would expect the landscape of governance to shine with unmistakable clarity. Yet, standing beneath the vast sky of expectation, I find myself still wandering in the shadows of uncertainty regarding the governorship of Mohamed Adan Khalif. The metrics are proclaimed, the banners are raised, the billboards tower like monuments of promise, yet the substance behind the spectacle remains an unresolved riddle.

History, after all, is not silent in this land. The preceding administration of Governor Roba etched its footprint across the county with unmistakable boldness. Roads once swallowed by dust and neglect were carved into reliable veins of connectivity, stitching distant communities into the fabric of commerce and opportunity.

The County Headquarters rose not merely as a building, but as a symbol of administrative identity and civic pride, so is the Mandera Teachers Training College. The Mandera County Referral Hospital underwent a transformation so profound it felt as though the very pulse of healthcare had been resuscitated, while sub-county hospitals, health centers, and dispensaries multiplied like beacons of hope across the terrain.
The construction upto operationalization of modern Market structures throughout the sub-Counties stand out.

Perhaps most memorable was the historic greening of Mandera Business Center, an undertaking that seemed almost poetic in its ambition. Where once stood stretches of bare earth, there emerged life, shade, and dignity. This greening was not only botanical; it was economic. Women-led households, long resilient yet constrained, found themselves lifted by newfound income streams, empowered by participation and opportunity.

Waterpoints sprang into existence across the county like lifelines drawn across a thirsty map. And after a decade of stewardship, the administration exited with an achievement rare in public finance: the absence of pending bills, a fiscal farewell marked by discipline rather than debt.
Against this towering backdrop of documented accomplishment, the present moment invites scrutiny. With an annual inflow exceeding thirteen billion from the Exchequer alone, supplemented by generous streams of grants in tens of billions from global institutions, including the World Bank, additional financing bodies, and the Equalization Fund, one would anticipate a cascade of visible, measurable transformation. Yet what emerges most conspicuously in the public square are singular gestures, such as school bursaries, magnified into monumental claims of progress on sprawling billboards that punctuate the skyline.
The question, then, is not born of cynicism but of arithmetic. When resources flow in torrents, outcomes should stand like mountains, unmistakable, immovable, and universally recognized. If the narrative of progress is confined to isolated initiatives, amplified through publicity rather than substantiated through widespread structural change, then the citizen is left not with clarity, but with conjecture.
Is development unfolding quietly beneath the surface, hidden from the naked eye? Are projects underway whose impact has yet to materialize in the public domain? Or does the matrix of governance contain variables unseen by the ordinary observer, constraints, diversions, or inefficiencies that dilute the force of available resources?

These are not merely political questions; they are civic equations demanding transparent solutions. Citizens do not measure progress by rhetoric, but by roads that endure, hospitals that heal, classrooms that empower, and water that flows without fail. Development  is not a billboard proclamation, it is a lived experience etched into daily life.
Thus, the inquiry remains suspended in the air like an unfinished calculation: With resources abundant and expectations towering, where are the visible monuments of transformation that match the scale of promise? Who among us can decode this matrix and illuminate the path from allocation to achievement?

Until such clarity emerges, the county stands at a curious crossroads, between memory and expectation, between accomplishment and anticipation, between the grandeur of past milestones and the uncertainty of present claims. And like any vigilant citizen gazing toward the horizon, one cannot help but ask: Is the light of progress advancing, or are we merely dazzled by reflections?

When the drums of conflict echoed across distant deserts and the flames of geopolitical rivalry intensified between global powers, the shockwaves were felt far beyond the battlefields. The confrontation between the United States, Israel, and Iran did not merely redraw military lines—it rattled the arteries of the global economy. Oil markets trembled, shipping routes stiffened with tension, and fuel prices surged like a storm tide. Across the world, nations braced for impact as global fuel prices reportedly shot upward by between 38 percent and 60 percent by the fourth week of the conflict, casting long shadows over fragile economies.
In Kenya, the threat was immediate and deeply personal. Fuel is not merely a commodity, it is the lifeblood of transport, agriculture, manufacturing, and daily commerce. A sharp escalation in fuel costs has the power to ignite a chain reaction: higher transport fares, inflated food prices, strained businesses, and anxious households. For a nation already navigating turbulent economic waters, the looming surge threatened to become a perfect storm.
Yet in the midst of this gathering tempest, decisive leadership emerged as a stabilizing force. President William Ruto stepped into the economic arena with calculated urgency, moving to blunt the force of the global price shock. Rather than allowing the full fury of international market volatility to cascade into domestic hardship, the administration intervened by reducing Value Added Tax (VAT) and trimming the fuel levy, thereby cushioning consumers and businesses alike. The result, as reported, was remarkable: instead of soaring in tandem with global trends, Kenya’s fuel price increase was effectively moderated to approximately 9 percent, seven weeks into the confluct, a fraction of the global spike.
Such intervention stands as a vivid illustration of governance under pressure. Patriotism is not merely proclaimed in speeches or displayed in ceremonial gestures; it is demonstrated in moments of crisis when policy choices directly affect the livelihoods of millions. Leadership, at its finest, is measured not by comfort in calm seasons but by resolve in turbulent times. When the cost of living threatens to rise like floodwaters, a leader’s responsibility is to construct levees strong enough to hold the tide.
It is also important to consider the broader context into which this intervention was delivered. When President Ruto assumed office, Kenya’s economic landscape was burdened by formidable challenges. Years of accumulated foreign and domestic debt had tightened fiscal space, placing strain on government spending and development priorities. Inflationary pressures weighed heavily on households, and economic confidence required rebuilding. The inheritance was not a garden in bloom but a field in need of careful cultivation.
Since that time, however, gradual signs of economic recalibration have emerged. Efforts to stabilize public finances, enhance revenue collection, and streamline expenditures have begun to shape a narrative of cautious recovery. Infrastructure programs have continued to stimulate employment, agricultural reforms have sought to strengthen food security, and digital finance innovations have sustained Kenya’s reputation as a regional economic hub. While challenges remain, indicators of improvement suggest a nation steadily reclaiming its footing.
The moderation of fuel prices during a global crisis therefore becomes more than an isolated policy, it symbolizes a broader commitment to economic stewardship. Fuel costs influence nearly every sector: from the farmer transporting maize to market, to the commuter traveling to work, to the entrepreneur delivering goods across counties. By tempering the rise in fuel prices, the government indirectly shielded countless supply chains from cascading inflation. In economic terms, such a move functions as a stabilizer, preserving purchasing power and sustaining consumer confidence during volatile periods.
Beyond the arithmetic of percentages and levies lies a deeper narrative about the role of leadership in shaping national resilience. A nation’s economic health is not determined solely by external forces but by the strategic choices made within its borders. In moments of global uncertainty, citizens look to their leaders not merely for reassurance but for tangible action, decisions that transform anxiety into stability and uncertainty into confidence.
Indeed, patriotism in governance is most vividly expressed when policies prioritize the welfare of ordinary citizens over the convenience of bureaucracy. To reduce tax burdens during an international crisis is to acknowledge the interconnected reality of modern economies: that distant conflicts can strain local pockets, and that timely intervention can mean the difference between hardship and relief.
Kenya’s journey through economic difficulty has not been without obstacles. Debt management remains an ongoing challenge, and the path toward sustainable growth requires discipline, transparency, and innovation. Yet the visible moderation of fuel price increases during a volatile geopolitical period offers a powerful example of crisis management in action. It underscores the principle that leadership is not defined by rhetoric alone but by the measurable outcomes of policy decisions.
History often remembers leaders not for the comfort of stable years but for their response when adversity strikes. When markets tremble and uncertainty looms, decisive action becomes the currency of trust. In this light, the intervention to cushion fuel price increases stands as a testament to responsive governance, an assertion that even in the face of global upheaval, national leadership can act as a shield protecting citizens from the harshest economic winds.
As Kenya continues its path toward economic resilience, moments such as these serve as markers of progress, reminders that improvement is often incremental, built step by step through deliberate policy and steadfast leadership. The road ahead may still contain bends and climbs, but the ability to navigate sudden storms offers reassurance that the journey, though demanding, remains firmly guided.
In the grand theatre of global economics, where distant conflicts can ripple into local markets overnight, the measure of patriotism is found in action. To stand between citizens and crisis, to soften the blow of international volatility, and to chart a steady course through fiscal uncertainty, these are the hallmarks of leadership forged in the furnace of responsibility. And in times when the world seems unsteady, such leadership becomes not merely admirable, but indispensable.

Bow out of respect for Muslims!… The one in this picture says I am #scientist_John_McCarthy, laying the foundation stone for #artificial_intelligence, and I say to the world: Bow down out of respect for Muslims!  As the man who sparked #artificial_intelligence, I had to speak the truth that the priests had tried to obscure with their delusion and nonsense for centuries: If it were not for #Al-Khwarizmi… there would be no artificial intelligence: When I proposed the idea that a machine could think, I was relying entirely on the genius Muhammad bin Musa Al-Khwarizmi. If it were not for the “algorithms” he invented and the zero that he presented to the world, programming and computer languages would not have existed in the first place. This phone in your hands works with “reason” and logic developed by a Muslim scholar a thousand years ago.  Maps and preventing accidents: In the past, ships sank and lost people died in terrifying accidents because they thought the earth was flat, until #Al-Idrisi came and drew the first real, spherical map of the world. Today, cars that drive alone and digital maps that guide you on the way are all based on geometry and measurements developed by Muslims. If it were not for them, we would still be lost in the darkness of ignorance.  From the cockpit to the smart camera: Every camera in a car or smartphone that analyzes images owes its thanks to Al-Hassan bin Al-Haytham. He is the one who broke the nonsense of Greece and made us understand how light moves, and from his primitive “cockpit” all the photographic technology and artificial eyes with which we dazzle the world today were born. While the priests were deceiving people that diseases were “evil spirits” and treating them with nonsense and magic, #Muslims were building modern hospitals. #IbnSina and Al-Razi taught the world that disease has physical causes and is treated with science and experience. We owe our lives to those who crushed ignorance and enlightened human minds. I am proud to have completed a building established by #Muslim_scholars. They are the ones who moved humanity from confusion and misguidance to the light of logic and experience. If it were not for their minds, the Western world would not have known the meaning of civilization or technology!

In the grand theater of leadership, where many aspire yet few truly excel, the brilliance of Abdi Guyo shines with a constancy that rivals the eternal glow of the sun. Just as the sun’s radiant status cannot be eclipsed by passing shadows, so too has his performance remained luminous, steady, and unmistakably transformative for the people of Isiolo County.

Within less than four years, his tenure has unfolded like a bold epic, rich with achievements, swelling with progress, and echoing with the unmistakable rhythm of purposeful governance.
From the parched plains to the bustling town centers, the echoes of development resound loudly. Boreholes, those lifelines of survival in arid lands, have been doubled in number, from Akadeli to Kakili, from Kulamawe to Iresaboru, From Garbatuka to Basa, From Gafarsa to Modogashe, from Kina to Gubatu, from LMD to Malkagala, from Kombolla to Bosan Biliqo, etc,  turning once-dry settlements into pockets of renewed hope and dignity.

Modern Early Childhood Development classrooms have multiplied at a breathtaking pace, nearly doubling in number and arriving fully equipped with essential sanitation facilities. These structures are not mere buildings of brick and mortar; they are temples of knowledge where the youngest citizens of Isiolo step confidently onto the path of education.

Equally remarkable is the visible lifting of livelihoods. More than a third of households once trapped in the grip of absolute poverty now stand on firmer economic ground, supported by deliberate policies and practical empowerment initiatives. Dispensaries have risen across the county landscape, increasing by nearly thirty percent and drastically reducing the distances that families must travel in moments of illness or emergency. Where once long journeys burdened the sick, accessible healthcare now stands within reach.

Healthcare transformation, indeed, has been among the crown jewels of this administration. The elevation of the county’s main referral facility from Level 4 to Level 5, crowned with a state-of-the-art Accident and Emergency wing, has ushered in a new era of medical excellence. The rise of Merti and Garbatulla facilities to Level 4 status, complete with brand-new infrastructures such as an oxygen plant in Merti and a dedicated eye unit in Garbatulla, speaks of foresight that values both urgency and specialization.
Across the county, healthcare expansion has unfolded like a carefully orchestrated symphony. The three-tier admission ward at Bosan Biliqo Health Center stands as a monument to preparedness; the fully fledged maternity unit at Mataarba Health Center safeguards the delicate moments of new life; and the admission ward at Kina Health Center strengthens the backbone of community health services. Complementing these structures is a formidable workforce, over 250 medical professionals, including nurses, clinical officers, medical officers, laboratory technicians, and nutritionists—strategically distributed across every corner of the county. Together, these advancements have elevated Isiolo into the ranks of top-performing counties nationwide.

Yet perhaps one of the most symbolic demonstrations of visionary leadership has been the bold revisiting of long-stalled flagship projects, initiatives that had lingered like unfinished chapters in the county’s story for years. Under the stewardship of Governor Abdi Guyo, dormant dreams have been awakened and pushed steadily toward completion. The once-abandoned, forgotten Export Abattoir now surges toward operational readiness, promising to unlock livestock trade opportunities and position Isiolo as a strategic hub for regional and international markets.
Similarly, the revitalization of the Isiolo Market stands as a powerful testament to economic foresight. This market, long anticipated by traders and entrepreneurs, is nearing completion and is set to transform the face of commerce across the county. With structured stalls, improved sanitation, and modern facilities, it will serve as a bustling nucleus of trade, employment, and prosperity for thousands of families.

Equally monumental is the near completion of the State-of-the-Art County Assembly complex—a towering symbol of democratic governance and institutional strength. Designed to reflect dignity, efficiency, and architectural excellence, this Assembly building will not only provide an enabling environment for legislative functions but will also stand as a proud emblem of governance maturity within Isiolo County.
Meanwhile, another historic milestone unfolds quietly yet significantly: the County Administration Building has reached the final stages of transition, with the county government poised to take over from the construction mandate previously handled by the national government ministry. This development marks a defining moment of administrative independence and operational readiness, placing Isiolo firmly on the path toward self-reliant governance and streamlined service delivery.

Infrastructure development has carved new pathways of progress throughout Isiolo. Over one hundred and twenty roads have been treated to murraming, transforming dusty tracks into reliable passageways. Urban mobility has advanced further with three major roads upgraded through tarmacking and cabro works, stretching gracefully across townships. Meanwhile, bridges rising at Bulapesa, Daaba, and within game reserve areas symbolize connection—both literal and symbolic, linking communities that were once separated by natural barriers.

Beyond the physical, leadership has extended into advocacy and representation. On matters affecting citizens, security, electricity supply, communication networks, and the elevation of administrative units, the Governor has consistently stepped forward with resolve. His voice has resonated in successful campaigns supporting the elevation of Garbatulla High School into a fully fledged university, the safeguarding of critical installations, and the electrification of remote localities. Such actions reflect leadership that does not merely administer but actively champions the aspirations of its people.

His commitment to social upliftment shines vividly through initiatives that have transformed the lives of women and youth. Through cooperative groups, innovative merry-go-round financing models, and resource mobilization via massive Harambee drives, livelihoods have blossomed. Motorcycles, tuk-tuks, matatus, carwash equipment, and hairdressing tools have not simply been distributed, they have become engines of independence. Through these initiatives, nearly thirty percent of households have achieved the simple yet profound milestone of securing at least two meals a day.

The harmony among elected leaders in the county has further amplified these gains. Strategic partnerships and collaborative governance have driven what many now describe as a historic transformation, one that has propelled Isiolo beyond previous expectations and into a future filled with boundless possibility.
Indeed, the narrative of Isiolo today reads like the unfolding of a remarkable renaissance. Roads stretch farther, hospitals rise taller, classrooms grow brighter, and livelihoods stand stronger. Markets revive, institutions rise, and projects once frozen in time now march boldly toward completion. The county’s status has not merely improved—it has soared, lifted tenfold by the winds of determined leadership and visionary stewardship.

In the final analysis, the story of Isiolo under Governor Abdi Guyo is not simply a chronicle of projects completed or statistics achieved. It is a tale of resilience, revival, and relentless progress, a testament to what purposeful governance can accomplish when guided by clarity of vision and strength of resolve. Like the sun that never dims, the performance per excellence attributed to this leadership continues to blaze across the horizon of possibility, illuminating a future where stalled dreams are revived, ambitions are realized, and the sky, truly, is the only boundary.

That the 45th—and now 47th—President of the United States stands as a glaring embodiment of racial prejudice is, to many observers, no longer a matter of debate but of record. His public life has unfolded like a relentless tapestry of incendiary rhetoric and troubling actions, each thread more jarring than the last. Yet what bewilders even the most seasoned critics is not merely the persistence of such conduct, but the uncanny ease with which it seems to dissolve into political survival.

From the grotesque circulation of imagery of dancing apes steeped in mockery and dehumanization, caricatures depicting a former President of the United States, so crude they echo the darkest chapters of history, to the venomous language directed at Somali communities, his words have often cut deeper than policy ever could.

In one breath, he casts aspersions on a legislator of Somali origin, branding her with language that questions her very legitimacy; in the next, he appears to forget the immigrant lineage that underpins his own story. It is a selective amnesia, sharpened by the optics of race, that elevates some identities while diminishing others.

His tenure has also been marked by policies and enforcement measures that have left communities in a state of unease. The expanded reach of immigration enforcement has, in places like Minnesota, blurred the line between law and fear, with citizens of Somali descent finding themselves caught in a climate of suspicion. Beyond U.S. borders, decisions regarding refugees, particularly those from the Congo, have raised uncomfortable questions about whose suffering is deemed worthy of compassion, especially when contrasted with preferential gestures toward South Afica’s Afrikaans.

Equally striking is the quiet but consequential unraveling of support systems that have long underpinned U.S.–Africa relations. Under his watch, a series of underpublicized policy shifts and funding rollbacks have significantly diminished American engagement across the continent. The scaling back of development assistance, coupled with disruptions surrounding USAID programs, has cast uncertainty over critical sectors such as healthcare, food security, and education. What was once framed as partnership increasingly appears transactional, if not neglectful, leaving vulnerable populations to grapple with the aftershocks of withdrawn support. To many, this retreat does not merely signal a policy pivot, but a deeper indifference toward regions already navigating complex humanitarian and developmental challenges.

Then there are the specters of foreign policy, bold, contentious moves that drag the nation into conflicts far removed from its immediate interests, amplifying global instability while deepening domestic divisions.

ECHOES OF AN UNBURRIED PASTAnd so, the pattern continues: a cascade of controversies, each one seemingly sufficient to end a political career, yet none quite doing so. It leaves one to ponder whether the ghosts of a more openly discriminatory past are not merely echoes, but active undercurrents, reshaped, repackaged, and reasserted in modern form. In this light, the question is no longer whether such forces exist, but how they continue to find space to endure, and perhaps even thrive, in a nation that so often proclaims its commitment to equality.

In the restless theatre of Isiolo politics, where allegiances shift like desert winds, a familiar drama has once again taken the stage. Cloaked in the customary jacket of “opposition,” the usual chorus of naysayers has risen, not to question policy with reason, but to deny, loudly and theatrically, the unmistakable footprints of progress. Their latest target is the milestone achievement of Governor Abdi Ibrahim Hassan: the elevation of Garbatula High School into a fully fledged university. To them, acknowledging success from a perceived rival camp is a sin too grave to commit, and so denial becomes their most loyal companion.

Yet this spectacle of resistance is hardly new. These are the very voices that once fought land demarcation and Community Land Registration with relentless vigor, not because the reforms were flawed, but because the idea was associated with then then Governor, Mohamed Abdi Kuti. In their peculiar political logic, progress must patiently wait for the “right” political hands before it becomes acceptable. This is the same mindset bold enough to sabotage lifelines such as the Modigashe water pipeline,a project meant to serve a community that has endured water scarcity since independence, simply to deny the Abdi Guyo administration the credit for delivering relief where it had long been overdue.
And now comes the disbelief surrounding the conversion of Garbatula High School into a university. We are expected to believe that the President simply woke up one morning with a sudden revelation about a high school deep in Garbatula that needed elevation to university status. Such fairy tales insult the intelligence of the public. Transformational decisions do not fall from the sky; they are conceived, proposed, lobbied for, and relentlessly pursued. The idea clearly had a starting point within the leadership that understood the needs of the region and took the initiative to push it forward until it reached the President’s desk for approval.

But the university is just the beginning. During the State House meeting, President Ruto also pledged support for several transformative projects in Isiolo County: the establishment of a dry port between Garba Tulla and Duse; construction of the Kubi Qalo Dam and Crocodile Jaw Dam; creation of Kinna and Ngaremara Sub-Counties; operationalization of sub-locations; development of markets in Kinna, Isiolo Town, and Garba Tulla; construction of TVET hostels in Garba Tulla and Merti; and the extension of the Isiolo International Airport runway, a project planned and awaiting implementation. These initiatives promise not only infrastructure but also jobs, opportunity, and prosperity across the county, proving that leadership anchored in vision can transform the fortunes of an entire region.

This is why the moment calls for unity rather than petty kitchen politics, grudges, and personal vendettas. Leaders who thrive on division are enemies of progress, while those who rally communities around a shared future deserve recognition. The message is clear: Isiolo is moving forward. Our people, our children, and our communities will reap the rewards of leadership that looks beyond quarrels and toward lasting development. The era of idle debates is fading into the distance, and as Isiolo rises, those who once stood in the way may only watch from the sidelines as the county charts its path toward progress.

BORROWED!

BREAKING: Qatar has officially requested the US to “reconsider” basing strategies.

Translation: “Please leave. We’re not asking again. Take your THAADs, your F-35s, your $1.1 billion radar rubble, and go.”

THE AL UDEID SITUATION

Let’s talk about Al Udeid Air Base. The largest US military installation in the Middle East. Home to 8,000-10,000 American troops. The Combined Air Operations Centre—the brain of US Central Command’s air campaigns. Two 12,000-foot runways. $5 billion invested since 1996.

And now, apparently, a very expensive white elephant that Qatar would like to return to sender.

THE TIMING IS EVERYTHING

This request comes after:

· Iranian missiles hit Al Udeid (multiple times)
· The $1.1 billion radar became $0 worth of scrap metal
· The Fifth Fleet headquarters in Bahrain was destroyed
· US soldiers started hiding in hotels across the Gulf
· American warships started fleeing toward open water
· The “invincible” US military started looking very, very vincible

The Qataris looked at this situation and thought: “You know what? Maybe hosting the world’s biggest target isn’t the best strategy for a small country with a lot of gas.”

THE DIPLOMATIC LANGUAGE

“Reconsider basing strategies” is doing a lot of heavy lifting here. In normal English, that means:

· “We’ve talked about this.”
· “We’ve thought about this.”
· “We’ve decided.”
· “Please go.”

It’s the diplomatic equivalent of changing the locks while pretending you lost the keys.

THE OTHER GUESTS ARE LEAVING TOO

Qatar isn’t alone in this realization. Let’s check the party attendance:

Saudi Arabia: Evacuating non-essential US personnel. The party favors are being returned.

UAE: Publicly distancing themselves. “This is not our war,” they keep saying, while their airports burn.

Kuwait: “Reluctant” to host additional systems. Translation: “We’ve got enough problems, thanks.”

Bahrain: Fifth Fleet headquarters? Destroyed. The welcome mat is on fire.

Oman: Hit. Neutrality? Apparently not a shield.

The party is over. The guests are leaving. The host is sweeping up broken glass and wondering why they ever threw this party in the first place.

THE “SAFE HAVEN” MYTH

Qatar thought it was being smart. Host the Americans. Get protection. Stay safe.

Turns out, “protection” is just another word for “target.” And when Iran started firing, the protection didn’t protect—it attracted.

The $1.1 billion radar didn’t protect anything. It just made a really expensive crater.

The F-35s didn’t protect anything. They’re now grounded, their pilots hiding.

The THAAD systems didn’t protect anything. Two of them are now scrap metal.

The only thing American presence protected was Iran’s ability to demonstrate that no place is safe when you host the empire.

THE ECONOMIC REALITY

Qatar has gas. Lots of it. And right now, that gas is not flowing. LNG production? Halted. The Ras Laffan Industrial City? Targeted. European gas prices? Up 50%.

The entire Qatari economy is based on the idea that stability allows energy to flow. And right now, stability is a memory.

The Americans brought war. The Iranians brought fire. The Qataris brought… what exactly?

THE “RECONSIDER” STRATEGY

What does “reconsider” actually mean in practice? Let’s game it out:

Option 1: The US leaves voluntarily. Saves face. Pretends it was their idea.

Option 2: The US refuses to leave. Iran keeps hitting. More rubble. More smoke. More Qatari infrastructure destroyed.

Option 3: The US leaves under duress. Looks weak. Emboldens adversaries. But at least the missiles stop.

Option 3 is looking pretty attractive right now.

THE OTHER REQUESTS

Qatar’s “request” joins a growing collection:

· Iraq: “Please leave” (multiple times)
· Afghanistan: “Please leave” (they eventually did)
· Syria: “Please leave” (still there, still causing problems)
· Saudi Arabia: “Please evacuate non-essentials” (the first step)
· Kuwait: “We’re reluctant” (the polite version)

The Middle East is slowly, politely, asking the United States to pack its bags. And the United States is slowly, reluctantly, realizing that it has nowhere else to go.

THE HOSPITALITY ANALOGY

Imagine you throw a party. The guest you invited brings 50 friends. They eat all your food. They break your furniture. They start fights with the neighbors. And then they ask you to help clean up the mess they made.

At what point do you say: “You know what? I think it’s time for you to leave”?

Qatar just reached that point.

THE PUNCHLINE

The joke is that Qatar thought hosting the Americans would bring safety. The joke is that they believed the “protection” would protect. The joke is that they didn’t realize that being a host means being a target.

The punchline is being delivered in smoke rising from Al Udeid. It’s being written in rubble where the radar used to be. It’s being spoken by every Qatari official who now has to explain why their country is burning.

The party is over. The guests are leaving. The host is counting the damage.

And somewhere in Tehran, someone is probably saying: “We told you so.”

Qatar #AlUdeid #PleaseLeave #ReconsiderBasing #ThePartyIsOver #GuestsAreLeaving #HostRegrets #11BillionRadarRubble #THAADx2 #F35sGrounded #LNGHalted #WeToldYouSo

Politics, at its finest, transcends rivalry and finds meaning in humanity, unity, and legacy. Such rare statesmanship was vividly displayed following the demise of the late Hon. Mohamed Tupi, whose passing left not only a political vacuum but also a deep wound in the hearts of family, friends, and constituents of Isiolo South. In a move that surprised many and silenced cynics, Governor Abdi Ibrahim Guyo chose compassion over contention, legacy over grudges, and unity over division.

Setting aside long-standing political differences with the late Hon. Tupi and his clansmen, the Governor boldly took a principled stand to support the late legislator’s son as heir to the parliamentary seat of Isiolo South. His intention was clear and noble: to allow the young Tupi to go unopposed, carry forward his father’s legacy, and, in the process, wipe away tears of sorrow from a grieving family and community. This gesture, rooted in empathy and respect, redefined political maturity in a space often poisoned by vendetta and self-interest.

Unsurprisingly, such magnanimity did not sit well with the opposition. Instead of embracing the spirit of unity, they resorted to distortion and suspicion, crafting bizarre narratives to undermine the Governor’s intentions.

Their desperation peaked when some aming them ,went as far as fielding Tupi Junior’s half-sister to contest against him, an act widely perceived as an attempt to fracture family bonds and exploit grief for political gain.

The political temperature rose even higher when Governor Guyo took the helm of the campaigns himself. His visible, unwavering support for the young Tupi sent shivers down the spines of political adversaries.

The ground shifted further with the dramatic entry of a third contender, Issak Abdub Fayo, whose campaign was marked by heavy financial muscle and unprecedented handouts, allegedly backed by Mike Sonko’s political outfit. Yet, despite the spectacle, this bid fizzled out, culminating in a withdrawal that underscored the futility of money politics against genuine goodwill and popular support.

Undeterred, Governor Guyo doubled down on his promise. In the final stretch, he resolved to camp within the constituency for the remaining days leading to the by-election, personally drumming up support for Tupi Junior. His message to the people was simple yet profound: ignore misleading perceptions, rise above propaganda, and turn up in large numbers at the polling stations on 26th February. Democracy, he reminded them, thrives not on rumors but on participation.
Indeed, the Governor has demonstrated that he has outgrown petty politics. By choosing to honor his word and stand by a bereaved family, he affirmed an age-old truth: a promise is a debt. His resolve to deliver Tupi Junior, in line with his commitment, has elevated him from a mere political actor to a symbol of principled leadership.

The impact has been electric. What began as a campaign for a parliamentary candidate has organically transformed into a spontaneous endorsement of the Governor himself. Wherever he goes, chants of “two terms” echo through crowds, accompanied by celebrations and ululations that shake the political landscape of Isiolo South. This overwhelming show of confidence has sent shockwaves through the opposition, signaling not just approval, but trust.
In the end, Governor Abdi Ibrahim Guyo’s actions have etched a powerful lesson into the region’s political history: leadership is not measured by how fiercely one fights rivals, but by how gracefully one rises above them. His conduct in this moment stands as a testament to promising leadership, leadership anchored in empathy, integrity, and an unbreakable bond with the people.