Nairobi is a city of performances, and Eric Omondi just opened his latest show at Nyayo Stadium. They’re calling it the “Walk of Love,” a 486-kilometer trek to Mombasa to build a rescue center. On paper, it sounds noble. In reality, it’s a stinging indictment of how broken we are. Since when did emergency medical services and basic education become things we have to beg for via a comedian’s Instagram feed?

The send-off was exactly what you’d expect: a circus of high-profile figures. You had Khaligraph Jones flexing for the cameras, and Amber Ray, of all people, receiving a “symbolic button” from Mwalimu Churchill. It’s hard to tell if this is a charity drive or a cast audition for a new reality show. While these stars “walk segments” and post their curated stories, the average Kenyan is still one hospital bill away from total poverty.

Let’s be real about the math. 486 kilometers in four days? That’s over 120 kilometers a day. Even professional marathoners would think twice before claiming that kind of mileage on foot. But in the world of Kenyan “activism,” facts usually take a backseat to optics. The goal is to reach Mama Ngina Waterfront by Valentine’s Day. How romantic. Nothing says “I care about the poor” like a grand finale at a tourist park in Mombasa while the people you’re supposedly “rescuing” are still stuck in the same mud back in the city.

The “Sisi Kwa Sisi” initiative is a band-aid on a bullet wound. We are building private rescue centers because the public ones are shells of their former selves, gutted by corruption and mismanagement. While Eric walks for coins, the real architects of our misery are sitting in air-conditioned offices. We wouldn’t need a comedian to build a “free secondary school” if the government wasn’t so busy entertaining The IMF’s Sick Obsession With Kenyan Taxes.

At the end of the day, Eric will get his headlines, the celebrities will get their engagement spikes, and a few millions might be raised. But once the dust settles on the road to Mombasa, the systemic rot remains. We’ve become a nation that survives on the crumbs of celebrity pity because our leaders have eaten the whole loaf. Don’t get it twisted, this isn’t a “Walk of Love.” It’s a walk of desperation in a country that has outsourced its responsibilities to anyone with a smartphone and a following.