Leaf the tree-hugging alone! Kenyans, we all can’t be Truphena Muthoni, time to branch out

Truphena's incredible feat would soon attract the attention of the nation's leadership, and the rich business barons willing to splash a quick buck to anyone who can help augment their enterprises or afford them some mercenary airtime.

Everyone, from the average bloke in Mathira, to the nation's president, was angling to meet Truphena, align themselves with her cause, reward her, rope themselves into her story and share the coveted spotlight she was effortlessly hogging.

All this time, the Guinness World Records watched in a cocktail of awe and avarice; in Muthoni, they found yet another human who had crucified herself for their cause, a record-breaker they were gloatingly looking forward to recognise, award and parrot.

Quickly, like a wildfire in the Pantanal, the Truphena effect started rubbing off on everyone - from the bored lad in Murang'a, to the battered drunk in Kitui, everyone had suddenly found a favourite activity to not only aimlessly engage in, but also partake in as a way of hogging the headlines and throwing themselves into the national psyche.

At first, it appeared rather interesting, even flattering - until it was not.

All of a sudden, a post-teenager in Murang'a, already ordained 'pastor', was hugging his own tree in an attempt to challenge Truphena's record, and, in his reckless imprudence, redirect the national eyeballs to himself and, if lucky, waltz his way into the Guinness Book of Records.

Unfortunately, his attempt, which was haphazardly planned and lacked any meaningful impetus, suddenly crashed, as he collapsed into a ball of extreme exhaustion, needing immediate hospitalisation and a fitting rebuke from his loved ones.

Spurred on, an explosion of tree-huggers suddenly erupted, snaring the young and old, male and female, short and tall, and everyone in between.

In Turkana, Priscilla Ngipuo attempted to hug a tree for 72-hours to raise awareness on diabetes. In Murang'a, Virginia Wangare attempted her own challenge to raise awareness about her depressed son.

In Kericho, the Chief Inspector Kennedy Wanjala, Officer Commanding Station (OCS) at Sossiot Police Station in Kericho County, attempted his own tree-hugging feat before being quickly evacuated and in Bungoma, Flora Onyango launched a 74-hour tree-hugging marathon to raise awareness on runaway corruption in county governments.

After what started appearing more like a mental craze than merely a copycat gimmick, the Ministry of Health moved swiftly to warn the public against engaging in the strenuous physical stunts without proper medical preparation, and objective whatsoever. 

Public Health Principal Secretary Mary Muthoni cautioned that prolonged tree hugging could pose serious health risks, citing cases in which participants collapsed and required hospitalisation due to dehydration and extreme fatigue.

“Tree hugging may look harmless, but when done for long hours, it becomes physically demanding and potentially dangerous,” she said, urging participants to undergo medical check-ups and proper training before attempting such activities.

After his swift evacuation from a senseless tree-hugging escape, police in Kericho said the OCS's incident was being treated primarily as a health and welfare matter rather than a disciplinary issue, as the officer underwent medical evaluation.

On January 20, a local publication carried the headline: "By hugging trees, Kenyans are passing a potent message to Government".

In the article, the writer drew parallels between the tree-hugging spree and people who were obviously battling more than just a superficial affliction - these were severely damaged individuals looking for a quick avenue to shed their overwhelming anxiety.

Or, these could merely be cheap pranksters with a lot of time on their hands and a crass obsession with the limelight, TikTok numbers and a fleeting governmental accolade.

World over, there exist innumerable challenges that humans can reasonably undertake to break the Guinness World Records. Some are hilarious, others downright silly, many incredibly unfathomable and most staggeringly unthinkable.

The Kenyan populace, which appears to be dangerously obsessed with hugging trees, should simply do a quick browse and discover an endless stream of other, less risky challenges they could easily embark on, while at the same time saving their own lives, maintaining their health, reducing the risk and snatching a headline or two.

Besides, after Truphena Muthoni, no other tree-hugging challenge makes any reasonable sense. To the eyes of Kenyans, all these new imitators are merely a distraction; a thoroughly misguided crowd of charlatans aimlessly consumed in a pointless, inefficacious charade.

Guinness World Record challenges are made to send a message. Not to be pointlessly parodied with cheap mimicry, impersonations, lazy caricatures and poorly-executed imitations.

After Jimmy Irungu's collapse in Murang'a, and the OCS scare in Kericho, it's now all too clear: Some parties are strictly meant for the invited few, and not every bystander can withstand the vagaries, complexities and strenuous oddities of the chosen guests.

It's time to retire the joke, or rather, 'leaf it alone', because no one is laughing or rooting for you anymore.