There is a Kam­ba say­ing that always comes to mind in moments like this. Musyi wa mutuku, utungi­lawawa vala wau­mi­la.An arrow that hits you at night is returned in the same direc­tion it came from. It is a very prac­ti­cal phi­los­o­phy. No long debates. No press con­fer­ences. Just direc­tion, response, and clo­sure. If Pres­i­dent William Ruto were a Kam­ba elder seat­ed under a tree some­where in Kitui, many would stand up, clap once, and say, “Eeeh, that one has under­stood the assign­ment.” He did not invent the arrow. He sim­ply returned it.

In fact, let us con­grat­u­late our lead­ers. Tru­ly. They have achieved some­thing remark­able. They have brought us the polit­i­cal cir­cus ear­ly. Nor­mal­ly, this grand show comes at the end of elec­tions, when man­i­festos dis­ap­pear, man­ners fade, and micro­phones become weapons. This time, they have inno­vat­ed, deliv­er­ing the cir­cus in advance like a bonus track before the album. At the very least, Kenyans should appre­ci­ate the timing.

Com­mu­ni­ca­tion schol­ars call this mir­ror­ing, or rec­i­p­ro­cal rhetoric. Sim­ply put, if you call me a name, I return it. The idea is that an insult los­es pow­er when shared equal­ly. It is like two chil­dren refus­ing to cry because each insists the oth­er start­ed it. In pol­i­tics, it is meant to neu­tral­ize attacks. In prac­tice, it often esca­lates them.

Through­out the week, voic­es of wis­dom have emerged. Cler­gy say they are strug­gling to iden­ti­fy with lead­ers they once admired. Mus­lim lead­ers remind us that dig­ni­ty is not sea­son­al, even under provo­ca­tion. Par­ents qui­et­ly won­der what their chil­dren are learn­ing on the nation­al stage. Cit­i­zens in mata­tus and mar­kets sim­ply say they are exhaust­ed. Not angry. Just tired.

Here is the uncom­fort­able truth. Our lead­ers are not vis­i­tors from anoth­er plan­et. They are a mir­ror. We elect­ed them. If the reflec­tion seems strange, we should not break the mir­ror but ask what it reveals about us. The laugh­ter we enjoy today must not blind us to its lesson.

And for those who think this is new, his­to­ry gen­tly clears its throat. In the ear­ly years of inde­pen­dence, Jomo Keny­at­ta dis­missed crit­ics with sharp lan­guage that left lit­tle room for dia­logue. Years lat­er, Daniel arap Moi mas­tered polit­i­cal jabs, often wrapped in para­bles. Mwai Kiba­ki, though qui­eter, still deliv­ered point­ed remarks under pres­sure. And Uhu­ru Keny­at­ta occa­sion­al­ly respond­ed with equal sharp­ness. The pat­tern is not new. Only the vol­ume has increased.

So what do we do with this ear­ly cir­cus, this nation­al com­e­dy that makes us laugh and wince?

We return to some­thing deep­er, stead­ier, and last­ing. Respon­si­bil­i­ty, Effi­cien­cy, and Dis­ci­pline. In my book Green For Life, these three define every­thing. I sim­ply call them RED.

Respon­si­bil­i­ty reminds every leader that author­i­ty is not self-owned but held in trust before the peo­ple and ulti­mate­ly before God. Words shape lives. Both the Bible and the Quran agree the tongue can build or destroy. Lead­er­ship that for­gets this los­es its moral anchor long before it los­es power.

Effi­cien­cy asks a sim­ple ques­tion: while arrows fly, who is build­ing the nation? A nation can­not eat insults, export argu­ments, or edu­cate its chil­dren on sar­casm. When cit­i­zens see noise with­out progress, they with­draw. Vot­er turnout declines. Hope fades qui­et­ly. Democ­ra­cy weak­ens not with a bang, but with silence.

Dis­ci­pline is the qui­et force that dis­tin­guish­es lead­er­ship from mere per­for­mance. It involves choos­ing restraint even when react­ing seems eas­i­er. It means remem­ber­ing every day that the office should be ele­vat­ed, not just filled. It’s under­stood that chil­dren are observ­ing, learn­ing not from speech­es but from conduct.

A nation does not weak­en when lead­ers dis­agree. It weak­ens when they for­get how to disagree.

So yes, let us enjoy the humor for a moment. Let us acknowl­edge the clev­er­ness of return­ing arrows. But let us also remem­ber that a coun­try can­not be built on arrows, no mat­ter how accu­rate­ly they are returned. Think Green, Act Green.