The beloved son of Sarah is something else. He lies. Then lies some more. He forgets that he just lied, so he lies again. When he tries to recall his last lie, he stacks another one on top, like a poorly built Jenga tower of deceit.

He does all this shamelessly because the gods of money-loving preachers are clearly on his side. They adore the way he licks his lower lip—much like a man mesmerised by a woman teasingly asking if he wants it hot or cold.

If these so-called men of God truly cared about the people, they would at least remind our President (who, by the way, is the first PhD holder to sit on that mighty chair) that fearing God is not a suggestion. It is a requirement.

Together with former Prime Minister Raila Odinga, they signed a pact with ten key promises. Among them the right to peaceful assembly, fair compensation and an end to abductions.

But last Sunday, when some young people took their faith seriously and attended church at Jesus Winner Ministry on Thika Road (perhaps to help Pastor Mwai collect a little extra in tithes and offerings) the police showed up like they were chasing hardened criminals.

Teargas. Batons. Chaos. No one and nothing was spared. Not even journalists, who only wanted to show the world how Pastor Mwai was charging “heaven’s gate fees.”

Our dear president remains an unsolved mystery in that even his most loyal supporters are scratching their heads, wondering whether they picked a leader or a professional storyteller.

Wherever he goes, he starts with a slow, calculated lick of his lower lip before delivering a blockbuster promise. Roads? A lie. Hospitals? Another lie. Free healthcare? Yet another lie. But the mother of them all is when he gives his lips a good, juicy lick, making sure they glisten in the sunlight, then boldly declares that millions of youths will soon have jobs. That is the GOAT of all lies.

The Head of State keeps reminding us to live within our means and embrace all the austerity measures he can think of. But he is never walking the walk when we expect him to. He is like that wealthy uncle who brags about how he knows “big people” abroad and promises to pull strings to get your bright little brother into some fancy university in the US or UK.

But when it is time to deliver, he suddenly goes off-grid. No calls. No texts. Not even a “sent from my iPhone” email. That is exactly how our dear leader treats his people. Full of promises, but always missing in action when we need him the most.

Every Kenyan is crying over police brutality. Mothers weep as their sons disappear. Only to be found floating in some distant river. Unrecognisable. Fathers mourn their daughters whose lives are cut short in cold blood. Even our grandmothers. And grandfathers.

They have all resorted to prayer, begging God to step in because when they look to the Head of State, all he does is passionately lick his lower lip, clear his throat and condemn police brutality and extrajudicial killings. Just that. No action. No solutions.

As a young Kenyan and a Gen Z journalist, I’m deeply troubled. Is this what divine leadership looks like, or did the selection committee get the memo wrong?

If this is the legacy he is planning to leave behind, then future generations will be taking history lessons with tears in their eyes.

Kenya is suffering, and instead of constantly moisturising his lower lip, maybe he could try moisturising the economy.

–The writer is a Sub-Editor with People Daily;