A little context, folks. In discussing the European migrant crisis, in which thousands upon thousands of North Africans, West Africans and Africans from the horn (Ethiopians, Eritreans, Somalis and Sudanese) have risked life and limb to to cross the Sahara and the Mediterranean in search of a supposedly better life in Europe, someone wondered why zero Kenyans are interested in making such a journey, why there are no Kenyans selling trinkets or sleeping rough on European streets and migrant centres, and why Kenyans runners never abscond after running in Western countries to try seek political asylum after experiencing these so-called “rich” economies.
In answering, I explained that despite having a few problems of our own, how relatively good Kenyans have it, especially in Africa, with a mostly peaceful, country (we tend to riot over elections); functioning economy (though blighted by corruption which they’re working hard to tackle), superb weather, beautiful country with stunning landscapes filled with rolling farmlands, nature and the most spectacular wildlife anywhere in the world; and a generally warm, laid back, smiling, super friendly populace. Why would I leave all this to move to whichever, dull, sanitised, cold, regimented, unfriendly and, frankly, soulless Scandinavian iceberg Barakus lives on? Why would any Kenyan want to swap this richly colourful life for migrant misery in Europe? Look at how happy Tim is to be back on his farm.
I may have stated in the past that I have no desire to move and that you couldn’t pay me to live in some countries. This, my friends, is the reason Barakus thinks I resent his “rich”, unhappy icebox of a country.