Dangerous Flag

June 25th, Nairobi holds its breath.

The air over Nairobi is heavy on this particular day.

Our lungs are filled with anguish, dust, and smog.

The flag is no longer regarded as a unifying symbol. It's turned into a provocation. The batons fall when you walk with it. They pull you away if you raise it.

How could a country's fabric turn into a weapon against its own children?

Green, White, Black, and Red.

Our nation's colors are now a target on your shoulder.

Instead of weeping, they see treason.

Not desperation, but defiance.

A threat where the only sound is a cry.

They wish for us to forget.

They want us to shut the curtains, fold the flag, and keep quiet inside our houses.

But we remember.

We recall the corpses that fell, the voices that were muffled, and the dreams that were violently suppressed.

We will carry the flag's colors in our hearts even after it is ripped from our grasp.

Because the people who rule a country do not own it.

We, the people, own it.