Nick, to be president of dead talent, go work in a mortuary

Dear Nick Mwendwa,

We would’ve asked how you’re doing, but the prolonged shouting you engaged in on TV this week gave us a hint that you’ve been battling football demons.

We wonder why it’s always you being picked on to be the candidate for sleepless nights. We’d love to ask if you have a generational curse, because it can’t be the same Adamic sin that Jesus was sent by his Father to rescue all of us from.

When you went on a sports show this week and announced that Harambee Stars are being beaten because Kenya has no football talent, we were tempted to send verbal missiles to uproot your door, only to be reminded that your mouth is a weapon of mass destruction by itself. We instead counted our blessings, named them one by one, and it totally surprised us what the Lord has done to help us choose peace.

Next time you want to make some sweeping statements that have wide ranging implications on the career development of our children, we advise you to check with the Kenya Institute of Curriculum Development first. The Ministry of Education has been reminding us that they brought the Competence-Based Curriculum to provide opportunities for our children to explore their talents, and now you’re on television telling us that they have no football talent.

When you said you wanted to be the president of Football Kenya Federation (FKF), delegates were ferried to the polls knowing they were electing a commander-in-chief who’d swing the sword whenever our football was threatened by those with evil eyes. Had they known they’d get a complainer-in-chief instead, it’s highly likely they would have eaten fare and stayed home on voting day.

Your painful face no longer makes for good television viewing, and our footballers are deeply sorry for forcing your heart to perform tasks that aren’t related to pumping blood. Had you not been the fellow in charge of coaching in Kenya, we would’ve raised funds to take you for training on how to talk less and do more.

Football talent in Kenya

While it may sound like a tough ask to always weigh your words whenever a microphone comes under your nose, your supporters are right to respond that the votes you were given never came with a weighing scale, and that’s why football fans have resolved that the only way to mitigate your verbal calamity is to source a tailor who’ll get you a new zip for your lips. If fans wanted a running mouth as head of football, we would’ve instructed the delegates to install the leader of water taps.

Don’t get us wrong. No one is trying to step on your freedom to exercise your jaws. During these working from home times, all Kenyans are encouraged to stay fit and keep their organs healthy as it’s the only way we can help the police whip Covid-19 out of Kenya.

When the drafters of the constitution made it clear that every Kenyan must be allowed to speak freely, they had people like you in mind. However, while it may not be a constitutional requirement to listen to yourself first before accepting media invites, doing so would go a long way in helping Nema fight noise pollution by reducing the number of times you shout on our televisions, which we didn’t buy with Fifa money.

You need to decide – between a ruminating soloist and a demotivational speaker – what career you want to take up when you grow up. Kenyans are competent enough to deal with characters who talk too much while saying nothing since we vote for them every five years, but what we won’t take are those who use media airtime to call our footballers bad names.

If planting structures to manufacture football talent in Kenya is too much for you, there are many dignified ways of announcing your resignation, and living inside an echo chamber isn’t one of them.

The writer comments on topical issues; [email protected]