When I grow up I want to be patriotic. I need not to brag of what I will do. But I want to let the world know in advance that am a patriot still held in a cocoon. The world should be prepared to receive me. It should have a wind of this real patriot. The inhabitants of this planet must know a new patriot is about to be born. To the earthlings, prepare the platform. Clear your minds of any mediocre perceptions of what the previous puppets of patriots you have heard. Bury those puppeteers in that dark distance past grave. Let them rot way below the plants’ root level. Lest the trees absorb their miscreant folly and bring forth bastard fruits.
My patriotism will be anchored on integrity and self preservation of my nation. It will breath in Kenya and exhale Kenyanism. Just like the NYS it will be true to self: true to country. This will be patriotism like no other. It will never betray my mother, Kenya, abroad. It will not embarrass her to her citizens, her children. It will hold her high. It will esteem her. At no time will my patriotism bite her fingers. At no time will I vomit at her feet and abuse her. When I become a patriot, I will stand for her. Am ready to fight for her. I will never die for her, because this will make her mourn forever. This will steal her joy. It will send her early to the grave. I will never let you die my motherland. Let the foolish brave die in the battle but not your smart brave son.
And when I grow and have amassed a lot of wealth, I will stand tall and defend you. As a journalist, I will broadcast good stories about you. I will build your images within and without our borders. When there is something about you, we shall discuss it internally over a plate of ugali. Nothing about it will be heard beyond our house. I promise.