Only in Kenya does a government think it makes sense to shut down one of the busiest highways in the country from six o’clock in the morning for a football match that begins at four in the afternoon. Only in this republic of fools do men and women in uniform decide that the best way to manage crowds and security is to punish millions of motorists who have absolutely nothing to do with the game. It is not just irresponsible—it is unforgivable incompetence dressed up as statecraft.

Thika Road is not some village footpath. It is the artery that connects Nairobi to the entire Mt. Kenya region and beyond. It is the road that feeds goods into the city, carries workers to and from their jobs, and keeps the wheels of the economy turning. To shut it down without shame or sense shows that the people in charge of our security and transport are not thinking beings but glorified traffic cones with uniforms.

A competent government would plan. It would deploy security in strategic locations, open alternative routes, use technology to monitor and control crowds, and ensure that life goes on for the majority who have nothing to do with the stadium. But in Kenya, the shortcut is always the preferred route, and the shortcut here is to close everything down and declare it “order.” It is laziness on steroids.

The police, who are supposed to serve and protect, instead display the intellectual depth of a teaspoon. They cannot conceive of solutions beyond roadblocks and whistling at motorists. They cannot imagine that a modern city requires modern policing, not caveman tactics. They would rather traumatize the public than stretch their brains to think creatively.

This tragedy is not limited to the police. It is systemic. It is the entire government culture that rewards loyalty over competence, sycophancy over intelligence, and corruption over merit. That is why the ones making decisions about traffic management are relics who should be retired, yet they cling to power and insist on dragging us back to the Stone Age.

When you shut down a road at 6:00 AM for a 4:00 PM game, what you are saying is that you do not trust yourself to manage anything. You are declaring that you lack the capacity, the skills, and the mental bandwidth to run a simple football event in a city. That is an admission of failure so massive it should lead to resignations. But in Kenya, failure is not punished—it is promoted.

The government wants to pretend it is securing the stadium and protecting lives, but what it is actually doing is showing us how incapable it is. If other countries can host World Cup finals, Olympic games, and international marathons without shutting down entire cities, why can’t Kenya handle a simple game without bringing the whole highway to its knees? The answer is clear: stupidity sits at the heart of power.

What is worse is the contempt shown to the public. Millions of Kenyans are told, in effect, “Your time does not matter. Your work does not matter. Your emergencies do not matter. Stay in traffic for ten hours because the police are too incompetent to do their jobs.” This is not governance; this is tyranny through foolishness.

It is insulting that we pay taxes for this nonsense. We fund a police service that cannot serve, a transport system that cannot transport, and a government that cannot govern. Instead of solutions, we get road closures. Instead of innovation, we get roadblocks. Instead of leadership, we get noise, sirens, and chaos.

The decision to shut down Thika Road reveals the intellectual bankruptcy of our leaders. It is not just about traffic. It is about a mindset that cannot solve problems, a culture that chooses the path of least resistance, and a regime that does not care about its citizens. If you can casually disrupt millions of lives for your incompetence, what else are you capable of?

This stupidity has real consequences. Businesses suffer as goods cannot move on time. Workers lose hours trapped in traffic. Emergencies are delayed. Patients die on the way to hospitals. Students miss exams. Families are broken by the frustration of spending hours in gridlock. The ripple effect of one idiotic decision stretches into every corner of society.

But the government does not care. Its officials are ferried in convoys with sirens blaring, clearing roads that everyone else is forbidden to use. They live in a parallel universe where inconvenience is for the ordinary Kenyan, never for them. That arrogance is what fuels their idiotic decisions.

The police leadership congratulates itself after every event, claiming success because “no incidents were reported.” But of course, there were incidents—millions of Kenyans delayed, frustrated, and impoverished. They just do not count that as failure because, in their warped thinking, only what affects them personally matters.

The public is left to wonder why, in 2025, with all the technology available, Kenya still manages traffic like it is 1965. Cameras exist, drones exist, and real-time monitoring systems exist, yet our government prefers to act blind and dumb. It is not a lack of resources—it is a lack of brains.

Recruitment is part of the problem. The police force is filled not with the best and brightest but with those who could not pass anywhere else. Many of them joined not out of passion but out of desperation. And the leadership is handpicked not for skill but for obedience to political masters. The result is a system incapable of independent thought.

We must call this out for what it is: sheer stupidity. There is no other word for it. It is stupid to close Thika Road for ten hours. It is stupid to treat citizens as obstacles rather than as the people you are meant to serve. It is stupid to think that disruption is the same as management.

This stupidity is not harmless. It kills productivity, it kills trust in institutions, and it kills the morale of an already burdened population. When people spend hours in unnecessary traffic, they lose faith not only in the police but in the entire government. That erosion of trust is dangerous for any democracy.

A country cannot move forward with such fools in charge. Progress requires leadership that can think, plan, and execute without trampling on the lives of its citizens. Kenya is held back not by lack of potential but by the sheer idiocy of those entrusted with power.

If the government cannot manage a football game without paralyzing a highway, how can it manage the economy? If it cannot keep traffic flowing, how can it create jobs? If it cannot think ahead on something this small, how can it think strategically about the nation’s future? The sad truth is that it cannot.

This government thrives on optics, not outcomes. Closing a road makes it look like “something is being done,” when in reality, nothing is being achieved. It is theater, not governance. And like all bad theater, the audience—us—is left bored, angry, and poorer for the experience.

The sheer audacity of asking Kenyans to endure this nonsense repeatedly is an insult. It says, “You will suffer, and you will keep quiet.” But Kenyans must refuse to keep quiet. We must shout back at this idiocy and demand competence from those who claim to lead.

History will not remember these road closures kindly. History will not record them as signs of safety or order. History will judge them as monuments to incompetence, as symbols of a government that lacked imagination, and as proof of leaders who had no respect for their people.

It is time we stopped normalizing stupidity. It is time we stopped making excuses for mediocrity. It is time we told this government, loudly and clearly, that shutting down Thika Road for an entire day is unacceptable, unjustifiable, and unforgivable.

The police must be told that they are not gods, and the government must be told that its citizens are not slaves. Our time matters. Our lives matter. Our economy matters. And no amount of incompetence should be allowed to trample on that.

A functioning state would handle this differently. A thinking government would learn from the world, adopt technology, and plan. But this is Kenya, where leaders are allergic to thinking, where laziness is a badge of honor, and where stupidity reigns supreme.

We must not let them get away with this. We must keep speaking, keep exposing, and keep mocking this foolishness until they feel the shame of their own incompetence. Because silence is what allows stupidity to grow.

This is not just about Thika Road. It is about the character of our leadership. And right now, that character is one of cowardice, laziness, and breathtaking stupidity. A government that cannot manage traffic does not deserve our respect, our patience, or even our taxes.

Kenya deserves better than this. Kenyans deserve leaders who can think. Until then, every road closure will remain a stark reminder that our government is run by fools who mistake chaos for order and stupidity for strategy.