When maandamano don’t really work
By Liz Muthoni, July 19, 2025Kenyans have always been known for their resilience and ability to smile even when the world is falling apart around them.
A place where people rise before dawn to hustle, to feed their families and to chase dreams against all odds.
But this year, something is different. The streets that once bustled with determination now reek of tear gas.
The faces that once brimmed with optimism are now filled with exhaustion.
How many more protests can a nation endure before its people finally break?
Here are some of the many reasons why most Kenyans are starting to get tired of the protests and riots in our country, Kenya.
The fear of losing loved ones
Every protest day, fear grips thousands of families. Mothers wait at home, pacing by the door, praying that their sons and daughters return in one piece.
Fathers call their children repeatedly, checking if they have reached work safely.
Every time tear gas fills the streets, gunshots echo, and chaos reigns, Kenyans hold their breath, praying their loved ones will return home safely.
But for many, these prayers end up in heartbreak.
Many have buried sons, daughters, brothers, mothers, fathers, and friends who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The grief is unbearable. Kenyans are tired because every protest feels like a funeral waiting to happen.
The fear of death has overshadowed the hope that protests once brought.
Economic disruptions have reached breaking point
The hustle that fuels Kenya’s economy is built on daily earnings.
From hawkers in Gikomba to mama mbogas in Kayole, missing even one day’s income can mean sleeping hungry.
During protests, businesses and shops close, and matatus stay off the roads.
A walk through Nairobi CBD on protest days is a painful sight, iron shutters locked, streets deserted, and families wondering where their next meal will come from.
For the average Kenyan living hand to mouth, missing even a single day’s earnings means sleeping hungry.
This economic suffocation has left Kenyans tired and hopeless.
No real change seems to come
When protests began last year, there were hopes. People believed leaders would listen and act.
But how many times have Kenyans protested since then? How many petitions have been signed? How many demonstrations have been staged?
However, months later, the cost of living remains unbearably high.
Food prices keep rising. Fuel remains expensive. Corruption scandals keep erupting like an unending curse. Nothing changes.
“What’s the point of risking our lives if they won’t listen?”
Protests have become screams into a void, and hopelessness has set in.
Fear of violence and brutality
Police brutality has become the norm.
Videos and images of bloodied faces, lifeless bodies lying on tarmac, and children choking on tear gas haunt Kenyans daily.
The brutality witnessed has left a scar on the national psyche.
Even those who support the cause prefer staying indoors for fear of being caught in the violence.
These images don’t just stir anger_they plant seeds of trauma that grow into fear.
People no longer feel safe leaving their homes on protest days, even if they believe in the cause.
Children are missing school
Schools are the one hope for breaking generational poverty.
However, it is being disrupted by endless protests, which have forced many to close or send learners home early.
In some affected areas, teachers speak of children terrified by gunshots outside their classrooms.
Parents keep children home out of fear for their safety, interrupting education and creating anxiety.
Mental health is suffering silently
The silent epidemic of mental health struggles in Kenya has been worsened by constant protests.
Anxiety levels are rising as families worry about their own safety and survival.
Depression is deepening in homes where jobs have been lost and debts are rising.
In a country where therapy is often unaffordable, people are bottling up trauma until they break.
Kenyans are tired because their minds can no longer carry the weight of uncertainty, fear, and despair.
Daily life has become unpredictable
Imagine waking up to go to work, only to find roads blocked with burning tyres.
Or being stuck in a matatu for hours because police have sealed off highways.
Or walking into town for shopping, only to be caught in a stampede as tear gas explodes.
Life has become a gamble. Plans change in an instant. Weddings, burials, job interviews, everything is at the mercy of protests.
Kenyans are extremely tired of never knowing what tomorrow will bring.
Political games causing disillusion
Many people feel protests have stopped being about the people’s struggles and have become more like political tools.
They watch leaders lead crowds in chants, only to negotiate silently behind closed doors, leaving citizens to deal with the consequences.
The betrayal is very loud and bitter.
People are tired of sacrificing peace and security for leaders who forget them once they get what they want.
Tired of being ignored
Kenyans have tried everything: protests, petitions, social media campaigns, even prayer rallies.
Yet, the government seems deaf to their cries.
Inflation remains unaddressed, unemployment is worsening, and public services are crumbling.
Every day they shout, but no one listens.
Protest fatigue has set in because hope fades fast when voices are silenced repeatedly.
They just want peace
At the end of the day, Kenyans want what every human being wants; peace.
The ability to go to work, earn a living, and return home to their families without fear.
They want to laugh again without worry, plan for tomorrow without uncertainty, and sleep at night without fearing gunshots at dawn.
Peace is all they crave now, even more than justice. Because what is justice when there is no life left to live?
In short, how many tears will it take before Kenya’s leaders hear the silent cries of their people?
How many graves must be dug before the nation realises that true change can only bloom in peace?
Kenyans are tired, not because they don’t care, but because their hearts can no longer endure the pain.
They have fought, shouted, and bled enough. All they want is to live. Is that too much to ask?