By James Okoth

If there was a moment when politics gave way to pure humanity, it was the night President William Ruto chartered a flight to take Raila Odinga to India for specialised treatment.

As narrated during the funeral by Kisii Governor Simba Arati and Dr Oburu Oginga, Raila’s elder brother, the gesture was not merely presidential — it was profoundly personal. At a time when the nation held its breath, waiting for news of Raila’s condition, Ruto chose compassion over calculation. He did not delegate; he acted.

Oburu’s voice roared with conviction as he recounted how the President personally intervened, ensuring Raila’s evacuation on a fully equipped medical jet — an act of urgency, respect, and quiet empathy.

“When Raila needed help,” Oburu said, “Ruto did not hesitate. He made sure his brother was flown out in dignity and safety.”

Simba Arati, too, captured the raw emotion of that moment — a scene where power met kindness. “That was not a political act,” he told mourners. “That was an act of love — of humanity.”

In Kenya’s history of fierce political rivalries, such gestures are rare — almost unthinkable. Here was a sitting President extending his hand, not to an ally or an asset, but to a lifelong opponent whose political fire had once burned against him.

That single act collapsed decades of animosity into a quiet, humbling truth: that even in politics, empathy is leadership.

Ruto’s decision to intervene so personally revealed something few had seen — a man guided not just by the instincts of a politician, but by the values of a brother, a believer, and a human being. It was a reminder that leadership is not only about statecraft or power, but about the moral fibre that guides one’s choices when no cameras are rolling.

That chartered flight to India now stands as a symbolic chapter in Kenya’s political history — a moment that softened the sharp edges of rivalry and redefined the boundaries of leadership.

Ruto’s gesture carried weight far beyond the immediate. It reminded Kenyans that behind every political adversary lies a human life, a family, and a story worth dignity. And in choosing to protect that dignity, the President revealed a dimension of compassion rarely associated with power.

In the larger story of leadership, such gestures speak louder than manifestos. They remind us that power, when guided by empathy, becomes service — and that rivalry, when tempered by respect, becomes legacy.

William Ruto’s decision to fly Raila to India may not change the architecture of Kenyan politics overnight, but it redefined what it means to govern with heart. It showed that beneath the armour of politics lies the enduring human truth: that compassion is the highest form of power.

As Oburu Oginga put it, “That flight told us who Ruto truly is — not just a politician, but a man with a heart.”

And in a nation often divided by politics, that night, even if briefly, Kenya felt whole.

By James Okoth

At Raila Odinga’s final send-off in Bondo, politics refused to die with him. Amid solemn hymns and glowing tributes, Nairobi Senator and ODM Secretary-General Edwin Sifuna’s words cut through the air like a blade — firm, personal, and defiant. “I will not break ODM,” he vowed, turning what was meant to be a farewell into a fresh declaration of political intent. In that moment, grief met rebellion, and the future of Raila’s party began to take shape.

Unlike many speakers who addressed the sea of mourners, Sifuna seemed to speak directly to the late Raila Odinga himself. His voice carried an intimate tone — not of farewell, but of continuity. “Baba, I will not break ODM,” he said, almost as if reporting for duty to his departed mentor.

The effect was arresting. Where others praised Raila as a historical figure, Sifuna invoked him as a living cause — a movement that must not crumble with his passing. It was a speech less about mourning and more about mission; less about legacy and more about leadership.

Sifuna’s message landed in a charged atmosphere. With Raila gone, ODM stands at a defining crossroads — torn between staying true to its opposition roots and realigning with the ruling administration for political survival.

Several senior figures, among them Governor Gladys Wanga and Senator Ledama Ole Kina, used the Bondo podium to signal openness to working with President William Ruto. Their tone was conciliatory, their gestures diplomatic, suggesting a readiness to turn the page.

Sifuna, however, chose resistance over rapprochement. His words carried an unmistakable subtext: that ODM’s strength lay not in proximity to power, but in the purity of its struggle.

In one moment that sent ripples through the crowd, Sifuna recalled Raila’s final political challenge — a question posed just 23 days before his death: “Who has told you that ODM will not field a presidential candidate in 2027?”

That single line, revived from memory, now frames ODM’s entire dilemma. Was Raila preparing the ground for succession, or warning against capitulation? Sifuna’s choice to remind the country of those words suggested the latter. In doing so, he subtly positioned himself as a messenger of continuity — the keeper of the party’s unfinished revolution.

To some, Sifuna’s stance sounded rebellious — a challenge to those seeking accommodation with President Ruto. Yet in its essence, it was a declaration of loyalty to Raila’s vision, not defiance of authority. ODM, Sifuna implied, was not just a political outfit; it was the embodiment of a philosophy — one rooted in justice, equity, and democratic accountability.

By pledging not to “break ODM,” he was effectively guarding that philosophy against dilution. His words struck a chord across the base — especially among younger reformists who fear that the party’s ideals could be buried alongside its founder.

Sifuna’s declaration did more than echo Raila’s spirit; it also redrew ODM’s internal power map. His defiance signalled a possible emergence of a new ideological faction — one that may challenge the pragmatists warming up to Ruto’s administration.

The implications are profound. ODM could soon face an internal tug-of-war: between those seeking reinvention through government cooperation, and those who believe survival lies in opposition reinvigoration.

For Sifuna, the choice seems clear. He would rather keep ODM small and principled than large and compromised.

The Broader Meaning

In Kenya’s fluid political landscape, where alliances shift overnight and parties mutate with every election cycle, Sifuna’s voice stands out for its ideological consistency. His declaration in Bondo was not just about ODM; it was about the preservation of conviction in a culture of convenience.

It was a call to conscience — a reminder that politics, at its purest, is about service and belief, not access and appeasement. And in making that call, Sifuna placed himself squarely in the moral tradition that defined Raila’s half-century of struggle.

As the dust of mourning settles, ODM faces its greatest test yet — one not of numbers, but of character. Will the movement that Raila built from exile and defiance survive without his voice? Will it find unity in ideology or fracture under ambition?

For now, Sifuna emerges as the unlikely custodian of that question — youthful, articulate, and grounded in principle. His voice may not carry Raila’s thunder, but it carries the same fire that once lit up Kenya’s fight for democracy.

In Bondo, amid tears and tributes, his vow was not a farewell, but a beginning — the opening chapter of ODM’s uncertain, but necessary, reinvention.

What Sifuna’s Declaration Means for ODM and 2027

1. Reclaiming ODM’s Soul
Sifuna’s defiance symbolises a resistance to ODM’s slow drift toward state capture. His words anchor the party back to its reformist roots — people-first politics, not palace negotiations.

2. A Subtle Power Shift
By standing firm, Sifuna elevates himself as a new moral centre within ODM — potentially the rallying point for post-Raila reformists. His speech quietly repositions him as a player to watch in ODM’s reorganisation.

3. Raila’s Last Instruction
Invoking Raila’s final question — “Who has told you ODM won’t field a candidate in 2027?” — signals that the party must not surrender its ambition or ideological clarity before the next election.

4. Two Futures Ahead
ODM now faces a binary choice:

• Assimilate into Ruto’s government, trading independence for convenience; or
• Reinvent itself through fresh, principled leadership that carries forward Raila’s democratic ideals.

Sifuna’s tone suggests he will fight for the latter.

5. The Stakes
The question now is not just who leads ODM — but what ODM becomes. Will it remain the people’s movement Raila envisioned, or mutate into another bargaining platform? In that defining battle, Sifuna’s vow — “I will not break ODM” — may well become both prophecy and provocation.

By Anderson Ojwang

The self-declared leader of Mt Kenya, the impeached Deputy President, Rigathi Gachagua, failed the mountain in honouring the departed Raila Odinga at his burial in Bondo.

Gachagua failed to attend the Thursday prayer service at Nyayo National Stadium and today failed to attend his burial, while his colleagues in the united opposition, Stephen Kalonzo Musyoka and Martha Karua, attended the burial of their coalition partner.

Gachagua, the party leader of DCP, a hardened critic of Raila, did not attend the funeral, which was attended by President William Ruto and immediate former President Uhuru Kenyatta.

Raila’s father, the late Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, is reputed for declining to lead the country into independence before the late Mzee Jomo Kenyatta was released from prison.

Odinga told the British colonialists that without Kenyatta, there was no independence, and he was subsequently released and became the Prime Minister and led Kenya into independence.

In the 2002 presidential election, Raila single-handedly delivered the presidency to Mwai Kibaki on a wheelchair, and his famous quote “Kibaki Tosha” changed the political dynamics of the country.

Gachagua wrote his tribute on his X handle three days ago, saying **“Baba Raila Odinga, may you rest well. To the family, your spouse Mama Ida Odinga and your children, my family and I join you in prayer during this difficult moment.

My deepest sympathies to you and people of the Republic of Kenya.

The enigma Baba, the father of our democracy and a formidable hero of Kenya’s 2nd liberation, you stood tall and strong in intellect, knowledge and quest for democracy.

You faced brutal regimes’ brutality, you were tortured, jailed, abducted and detained severally for Kenya.

When the history of Africa’s Pan-Africanism is written, your chapter as the indefatigable lion of Africa will attract many readers.

You dedicated your life in the service of humanity: as a political activist, a civil servant, a university lecturer, an MP, a party leader, a cabinet minister, a prime minister and many other fronts. On all these, your trail of success and impact remains indelible.

Kenyans will not only remember your craft in resilience, persistence and democratic values days on but also your voice during difficult moments.

It will be remembered that you were at the forefront in the fight for Kenya’s democracy and liberation of Kenya on many firsts. Most profoundly, Kenya’s multiparty democracy and the Constitution of Kenya 2010, a race you strongly stood in for and we the people of Kenya shall never forget.

Much as we have never been on the same political side, I have had a strong admiration of Raila Odinga’s art of forming and sustaining a strong political party that survived four general elections. I remain amazed by his choice of quality legislators to fly the party flag and eloquently articulate party policies and the people they represented.

You are a hero celebrated home and away; you have not gone Raila Odinga, you have just faded away.”**

Raila, before his demise, had rejected an overture by Gachagua that he joins them so that they could make him president in 2027.

After his impeachment, Gachagua said that he had been mandated by Mt Kenya people to look for a political formation that would bring power to the people.

“I was looking at it with few strategists from the region; Raila’s numbers are more exciting. Because Raila already has 6.8 million votes. We only beat him with only 200,000 votes. If we agree to support him, we could, I told you, with his 6.8 and our 6 million votes, if you look at his voting pattern, he normally votes between 10.00 am–11.00 am. If we agree to support him, before he votes, he will be the president. That you can take to the bank,” he said in a recent interview.

Raila said then “I want our people to remain quiet so that we can get what we want going forward. Those who are making noise in the opposition told us that they were in the government of shareholders.”

Gachagua, once an ardent supporter of the Kenya Kwanza administration and the second most powerful person in the country, took the last minute to humiliate, castigate and deride opposition leaders and regions that never supported them.

For the two years in office, Gachagua tormented and humiliated those who criticised the Kenya Kwanza administration and was opposed to any form of demonstration in the country.

Gachagua said he had planted spies in State House to report to him whenever Raila went to meet President Ruto and that he would not allow the former ODM leader to form an alliance with the President.

By Anderson Ojwang

In what can be said as a political realignment after the death of the enigma Raila Odinga, his last-born, Winnie Mandela Odinga, told President William Ruto that she was ready to come back home.

Winnie, who is a member of the East African Legislative Assembly (EALA), told mourners that in Bondo, there still lives a lion.

“I have heard people talk badly about Bondo. I want to say here, we have a lion here. I am the lion. Do not be worried. For President Ruto, I am ready to come back home,” she said as Ruto smiled and consulted with his aides.

Winnie has been the cornerstone of Raila’s political journey after the death of his son, Fidel Odinga, and she has been significant in his presidential campaigns.

Raila, before his death, had entered into a political alliance that birthed the broad-based government after the 2024 Gen Z anti–Finance Bill protest.

Ruto and Raila recently signed a Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) that gave a framework for a broad-based government, which brought together UDA and ODM.

Raila was recently replaced as the party leader of the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM) by his elder brother, Siaya Senator Dr Oburu Oginga, as the acting party leader.

Already, jostling for the leadership of Nyanza has begun in earnest, with various leaders expressing interest.

Viewed as potential heirs apparent are former Cabinet Minister Raphael Tuju, Winnie Odinga, Embakasi East MP Babu Owino, Cabinet Secretary for Treasury and Economic Planning Mr John Mbadi, his Energy counterpart Opiyo Wandayi, Homa Bay Governor Gladys Wanga, Permanent Secretary for Internal Security Dr Raymond Omollo, and Rarieda MP Otiende Amollo, among others.

With Raila’s death and a power vacuum emerging in the leadership of Nyanza, the battle for the region is likely to mirror the post–Jaramogi Oginga Odinga succession.

The post-Odinga succession battle pitted the current Siaya Governor James Orengo and his Kisumu counterpart Prof Anyang’ Nyong’o against Raila.

Raila emerged the winner, and the two later became his close political confidants until his death.

Nyong’o became the acting ODM party leader when Raila was contesting for the AU Chairperson seat, which he lost.

By Clifford Derrick

When lions fall silent, the savannah holds its breath. The grass stiffens, the air thickens, and the smaller creatures—who once trembled at the roar—begin to wail in confused relief. Yet beneath that silence lies a harder truth: the lion is gone, but the wilderness has lost its order.

The passing of Raila Amolo Odinga has cast that silence across Kenya, across Africa, and into the uneasy conscience of history. For more than half a century, he lived as both the student and the sculptor of freedom—testing its tensile strength, bearing its burdens, and discovering, as Frantz Fanon warned, that each generation must discover its mission, fulfil it or betray it. Raila Odinga discovered his; others betrayed it.

The Anatomy of a Lion

He was born into history’s storm, cradled by the defiance of his father and the colonial twilight of a nation unready for the responsibilities of freedom. The young Raila learned that liberation is not an event but a temperament—a discipline of courage. In Jaramogi’s home, Uhuru was never a slogan; it was a metaphysical command.

If Jaramogi dreamed the outline of freedom, Raila was fated to live its contradictions. He studied machines in East Germany, only to return to a Kenya still shackled by mental chains. He entered politics not to wield power but to correct it—to remind his country that freedom’s measure is not declaration but design.

As Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o taught us, the bullet aims to kill the body and the school to kill the mind. Raila spent his life reversing both. His ordeals at the Nyayo House torture chambers and imprisonment at Kamiti Maximum Prison did not break him; they burnished him. He emerged from each captivity as a philosopher of hope, carrying the unbroken tone of a man who refused to hate even those who crucified him.

The Contradiction of Power

To understand Raila is to wrestle with contradiction—the way moral clarity invites political tragedy. He lived in a country that celebrated his courage but feared his conviction. He was called a destabiliser for questioning tainted elections, only for the same institutions to praise him, in death, as guardian of our democracy. There is something profoundly Kenyan, profoundly African, in this rhythm of rejection and remembrance. We have made a ritual of crucifying our prophets before consulting their ghosts.

Hannah Arendt called it “the loneliness of the pariah who insists on thinking.” Raila lived that loneliness. His thinking offended the comfort of mediocrity; his courage embarrassed the cowardice of convenience. Yet through it all he carried himself with the quiet of one who knew that leadership is stewardship—not domination—a presence accountable to the future as much as to the present.

The Freedom that Refused to Die

There are men who chase history, and there are men who bend it back toward its original moral direction. Raila belonged to the latter. Like Nelson Mandela, he understood that endurance without bitterness is the final stage of freedom. And like Nkrumah, he knew that Africa must unite or perish—that the map of Kenya is one corner of a greater moral geography.

He spoke of roads, rails, ports, skies, grids and data—technocratic words that, in his hands, became sacred metaphors. To Raila, infrastructure was theology: the physical proof that African nations can connect what colonialism divided. To bridge a river was to repair a wound; to lay a railway was to realign destinies; to open skies and ports was to dismantle the geography of servitude. He was a philosopher-engineer of freedom, for whom power was not a possession but a conduit.

Gratitude & Fidelity

We must give thanks to those who believed in him when it was unfashionable and costly to do so—those who walked with him through NDP, into KANU, across LDP and NARC, who endured with him in CORD and NASA, who hoped again in Azimio la Umoja, and who, at the end, understood the discipline beneath his decision to leave his people inside the state through a broad-based arrangement: not capitulation, but calculation for stability and inclusion. Your fidelity was not in vain. History heard you.

A Word to His People—and to the Opportunists

And now, to my Luo kin and to all communities who have long borne the costs of dissent and the price of principle: do not let the voices that denied Baba in life seduce you in his death. Beware the hands that resisted him yesterday but now stretch for your grief today. Beware the sudden converts to his gospel who would cash in on the funeral to mortgage the future.

He stood for equity and for a republic where development is not a tribal trophy but a citizen’s right. Hold that line. Do not let your pain be harvested by the very forces that locked the gates against him. “Wan joka nyanam, to wan gi juok Baba.” We are his people, and we are also his spirits. Those who already joined the former oppressor’s chorus should step aside and let the government serve the very citizens Baba fought for—Nyanza’s fisherfolk and traders, the hustling youth of Kibera, the farmers of Western, the pastoralists of the North, the Coast and every Kenyan too long ignored by power’s habits.

A Word to Government

To the government of the day: govern in good faith. As Jaramogi’s courage multiplied through generations, so has Raila’s juogi—his animating spirit—lodged now in countless hearts. He left a plan, as his daughter Winnie intimated; a moral architecture for stability with justice, reconciliation with memory, growth with dignity. Honour it. If you deviate—if you return to the old arithmetic of exclusion—know that you will not face one man’s dissent but a chorus of principled resistance, grounded in the very spirit that outlived torture, exile, and stolen hours.

Africa’s Unfinished Union

Beyond Kenya, he leaves Africa a blueprint—not a daydream. He named the arteries of our freedom: continental highways and standard-gauge rails to move goods and dignity; open skies to lower costs and raise opportunity; energy grids to power industry and learning; an African digital commons to protect our knowledge; a currency architecture to end the dependency that cheapens our labour; and a moral economy where profit bows to people. He warned against the new colonisers in tailored suits—those who barter our minerals and futures with a handshake and a press release.

He exposed the local elites who collude, the soft empire of attention that distracts our youth, the algorithmic lullabies that turn revolt into content and courage into costume.

To Africa’s young: your smartphones are instruments; your conscience, the battlefield. Do not mistake noise for power. Freedom is not a hashtag but a daily discipline of building—patiently, stubbornly, together.

The Pain that Tells the Truth

Behind the laughter and the easy handshake lived a private sorrow—the sorrow of a man who gave everything for a people who often returned everything but misunderstanding. He bore it without bitterness. Arthur Schopenhauer said truth moves from ridicule to opposition to self-evidence; Raila lived all three. The ridicule was public, the opposition institutional, the self-evidence—alas—posthumous. And still he taught us grace: that a nation is repaired not by vendetta but by vision.

The Lion and His Pride

To his family: Mama Ida—Min Piny’s resilience, Rosemary Odinga’s grace, Raila O. Junior’s steadiness, Winnie Odinga’s fire, not forgetting Maurice Ogeta’s unwavering loyalty—these are not merely filial virtues; they are ongoing chapters in his text on freedom. He has gone where our ancestors convene councils under the great fig tree; but he did not go empty-handed. He carried our unfinished work with him to report, and to intercede.

Raila Odinga did right by the world. He stood for justice when silence was easier, for unity when division paid better, for principle when compromise promised comfort. Such men do not vanish; they leave imprints on the conscience of a people. He now rests among those who shaped history with their courage and their love for humanity—the beautiful company of the righteous dead who continue to light our path.

The Roar Beyond the Grave

Let us not merely mourn him. Let us metabolise his life into motion. Let us make his contradictions our compass and his faith our framework. For if Africa still waits to be free, it is because too many mistook a lion’s silence for peace. Raila Amolo Odinga is gone. But the architecture of his dream remains. And somewhere between Bondo and the infinite, the lion still walks.

Personal Farewell

“Baba, greet for me my late mother, Judy Mbewa, Nyar Seme Kakelo—one of your ardent believers. She is waiting with both hands. Carry our revolutionary greetings to George Oduor, Jaramogi, Nkrumah, Mandela, Biko, Chris Hani, Malcolm X, Patrice Lumumba, Sankara, Martin Luther King Jr., Wangari Maathai, and Winnie Mandela. Tell them we are still on the long road, that we have not laid down our tools, and that your juogi walks among us.”

“Baba yawa!”
“Rest well, Baba. Ywe gi kwe my hero!”
“Jowi! Jowi! Jowi!”

By Anderson Ojwang

Today, in Bondo, Kango Ka Jaramogi, Martha Wangare Karua would have been Kenya’s sixth president. ‘President Karua’ would have presided over the burial ceremony of the departed enigma Raila Amolo Odinga.

The Gikuyu community have missed the golden opportunity that could have enabled them to ascend to the presidency for the third time through the Luo community.

Today, Mt Kenya watches in consternation, bitterness and regret as Raila is laid to rest in Bondo, while Karua has become a pale shadow of the once vibrant and iron lady of Kenya’s politics.

As the ACK Bondo’s Bishop Prof David Kodia will be saying the final words of ‘Unto soil I came and I return’, Mt Kenya will be watching painfully, and Karua would be mourning a buried political ambition — the presidency.

President William Ruto will preside over the event after he signed a memorandum of understanding with Raila over the broad-based government.

The Gikuyu community first rode to the presidency after the late Jaramogi Oginga Odinga declined to take over the mantle from the British colonialists until the late Mzee Jomo Kenyatta was released from prison.

In 1960, during Kenya’s final years under British colonial rule, Jaramogi Oginga Odinga made a decision that shaped the country’s path to independence. The British colonial administration offered him the opportunity to lead Kenya as the country’s first Prime Minister while Jomo Kenyatta remained in detention.

At the time, Kenyatta had been imprisoned since 1953, accused of leading the Mau Mau rebellion. Despite the British government’s proposal, Odinga rejected the offer to take over national leadership. He insisted that no meaningful political transition could occur while Kenyatta was still behind bars.

Odinga reportedly told the colonial officials, “If I accept your offer, I will be seen as a traitor to my people. Kenyatta is our leader and must be released to lead us.” He made it clear that Kenyatta, despite his imprisonment, was the chosen leader of the Kenyan people and that any attempt to sideline him would not be acceptable.

This decision by Odinga helped to maintain unity among Kenya’s political movements and reinforced Kenyatta’s position as the symbol of the independence struggle. It also prevented possible ethnic divisions, particularly between the Luo and Kikuyu communities, by showing solidarity across tribal lines.

When Kenyatta was eventually released in 1961, he resumed leadership of the nationalist movement. In December 1963, Kenya gained independence, and Kenyatta became Prime Minister. As a reward for his loyalty and support, Odinga was appointed Kenya’s first Vice President.

And Odinga and the Luo community sacrificed to Kenyatta and the community, and the presidency sat in the mountain.

During the struggle for the repeal of Section 2A of the Constitution and eventually the first multiparty election, Kenneth Matiba and the Gikuyu community had resolved to support Odinga for the presidency.

By 1990, Odinga had already decided to chart his own political path.

Lawyer Paul Muite, who later became Odinga’s running mate, invited Kenneth Matiba and Charles Rubia to his house, where they discussed the need to partner with Jaramogi Oginga Odinga to build a formidable alliance to face Moi.

According to Muite, they later invited Bishop Okullu and Joab Omino to inform them about the idea.

In the agreement, Jaramogi was supposed to be made the joint presidential candidate after the constitutional reforms.

These discussions were taking place without Jaramogi’s knowledge.

The group approached Odinga and presented to him the idea of a future political alliance with him as the presidential candidate.

In this regard, Rubia and Matiba met Jaramogi at his private office at Agip House and his company office at Spectra International in Industrial Area.

Odinga was sceptical about their genuineness. According to Muite, Jaramogi, after listening to them, asked in a shrill voice, “I am not opposed to a partnership. But do you remember how our first marriage ended?”

But after the repeal of Section 2A and on the return of Matiba from treatment abroad, the memorandum of understanding was disregarded, and Matiba declared his presidential bid.

Muite, who was still rooting for Jaramogi’s candidature, recalled Rubia telling him that political pacts were not laws to be obeyed, while Matiba told him, “Don’t you know, Paul, even those Luos, they will all vote for Ken Matiba, not Jaramogi?”

Both Matiba and Odinga lost to Moi, and the Gikuyu community lost the opportunity to ride to the presidency through the Luo for the second time, as Jaramogi died a year later after the 1992 election.

Moi won the 1997 election while Matiba boycotted the election and died in denial of losing to Moi.

In 2002, Raila Amolo Odinga delivered the presidency to the Gikuyu community, to Mwai Kibaki, while he was in a wheelchair. The famous “Kibaki Tosha” was all that he needed to become Kenya’s third president.

In the 2022 presidential election, then-President Uhuru Kenyatta supported Raila for the presidency and negotiated for Karua to be the running mate.

Raila agreed to Uhuru’s political arrangement, which saw Kalonzo Musyoka, who had been the former Prime Minister’s running mate in the last general election, give in to the deal.

On February 26, 2022, Uhuru led a Jubilee Party National Delegates Conference (NDC) at the Kenyatta International Convention Centre (KICC) in Nairobi. The NDC endorsed the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM) leader, Raila Odinga, as the party’s preferred presidential candidate for the August general elections.

But former Uhuru’s personal assistant, Rigathi Gachagua, led the community in rejecting Raila’s candidature and instead voted overwhelmingly for President William Ruto.

Gachagua became the Deputy President but was later impeached and replaced by Prof Abraham Kithure Kindiki.

By James Okoth

Raila Amolo Odinga — the enigma, the reformist, the indefatigable father of Kenya’s democracy — is set to take his final bow. As the nation braces for his burial tomorrow, anticipation and emotion sweep across the country. The send-off planned in his honour has already assumed a scale and solemnity rarely witnessed in Kenya’s history — a blend of national pride, global reverence, and political symbolism befitting a man who defined the nation’s democratic journey for more than half a century. Yet, one question lingers — would the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM), the party he founded and nurtured, have managed a farewell of this magnitude if the State had not stepped in?

The turning point came when President William Ruto, in a sombre address from State House, Nairobi, shortly after Odinga’s death, announced that the government would accord him a full State funeral. His words resonated across the political divide.

“Raila Odinga was not just an opposition leader. He was a patriot whose sacrifices and convictions shaped our democracy. As a country, we owe him the honour befitting a statesman who gave his all for Kenya,” he declared, crowning the country’s mood of profound loss and sombreness.

That declaration marked a moment of national maturity. It was both a political and moral decision — one that acknowledged that Raila’s contribution to Kenya transcended party boundaries. Strategically, it reflected President Ruto’s intent to project unity and statesmanship at a time of national grief. Symbolically, it placed Raila Odinga among the pantheon of Kenya’s founding and transformative leaders. Historically, it was a remarkable full circle — the same State that once detained and opposed him now preparing to honour him with a 21-gun salute.

The government has since spared no effort in staging a world-class State farewell. The military rehearsals, the precision of protocol, the elaborate planning for tomorrow’s ceremonies, and the turnout at Nyayo Stadium in Nairobi, Kenya’s capital, and at Mamboleo Stadium in Kisumu City have all reflected the weight of Odinga’s national stature. Heads of State, diplomats, clergy, and citizens have joined hands in tribute to the man whose name became synonymous with resilience, reform, and democracy.

On the other hand, ODM — though emotionally and ideologically closest to Odinga — would have faced enormous challenges in mounting such a large-scale operation. The party’s heartbeat lies with the people — the millions of Kenyans who saw Raila as their liberator. An ODM-led burial would undoubtedly have been emotionally powerful, driven by grassroots loyalty and cultural depth. It would have been rich in song, dance, dirge, and symbolism — a reflection of the people’s love and Baba’s revolutionary soul. Yet, the logistical precision, security apparatus, and diplomatic coordination required for an event of this scale are powers only the State commands.

In essence, Raila’s final rites have become a powerful meeting point between the State and the people — two forces that often clashed during his lifetime, now united in honouring him. The government brings the order, structure, and global recognition; ODM and his followers bring the passion, culture, and authenticity. Together, they are shaping a farewell that transcends politics — a national moment of reconciliation and respect.

When the guns fire tomorrow in salute at his Opoda farm in Bondo Sub-County, the echo will carry more than honour — it will carry history. It will mark Kenya’s collective redemption: the State saluting a man who once stood fearlessly against it, and a people witnessing their hero embraced by the nation he fought to reform.

Raila Odinga’s burial, therefore, is not merely a farewell. It is the closing of a long national chapter — the reconciliation of power and people, of struggle and statehood. And in that unity, perhaps, lies the truest reflection of the Kenya he dreamed of — a nation finally at peace with its greatest son.

By James Okoth

Photo||Courtesy

In the early years of Kenya’s push for multiparty democracy, two men — Raila Odinga and Michael “Kijana” Wamalwa — emerged as the faces of hope, courage, and reform. They came from different regions, spoke different political dialects, but shared a single heartbeat: a desire to see Kenya free, fair, and inclusive.

Raila, the son of Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, was the firebrand reformer shaped by years of detention and resistance. Kijana Wamalwa, a polished lawyer and orator from Trans Nzoia, carried the intellectual flair and national outlook that inspired a generation. Together, they embodied the reform spirit of the 1990s — bold, fearless, and unbowed.

Their friendship blossomed beyond political convenience. They were allies, brothers in struggle, and visionaries who dreamed of a Kenya larger than tribe. Both believed that politics could be civil, ideas could triumph over insults, and unity could outlast elections. In many ways, Wamalwa’s charm and grace softened Raila’s fiery edge, while Raila’s tenacity and mass connection deepened Wamalwa’s political grounding.

When Jaramogi Oginga Odinga passed away in 1994, it was Kijana Wamalwa who took over the leadership of FORD–Kenya — continuing the reformist flame that had united opposition voices. His eloquence and intellectual depth rejuvenated the party, positioning him as a national leader and later Kenya’s seventh Vice President under President Mwai Kibaki in 2003.

That same year, tragedy struck. Wamalwa’s sudden death left Kenya in mourning, and for Raila, it was personal. He travelled to Kitale and mourned Wamalwa in the most symbolic of ways — culturally parading bulls to honour his fallen comrade. It was a gesture steeped in Luhya tradition — a statement that friendship transcends politics, and respect can be spoken in the language of culture. For the Wamalwa family, it was a moment that etched Raila’s name in their hearts.

Years turned to decades, and the circle of history began to close. When Raila Odinga passed away, Kenya once again stood still. His death marked the end of an era — the fall of a democratic giant whose voice had shaped Kenya’s modern political identity. And just as Raila once went to Kitale to honour Kijana, Eugene Wamalwa — Kijana’s brother — made his journey to Kang’o Ka Jaramogi in Bondo.

In a deeply cultural act of reciprocity, Eugene arrived with bulls, re–enacting Raila’s gesture in reverse — this time as a tribute from the Wamalwa family to the Odingas. The symbolism was profound: it was not just a cultural offering, but a closing of the circle of friendship, respect, and shared struggle between two families who had walked Kenya’s democratic path together.

“When my brother Kijana rested, Raila came to Kitale with bulls to honour him as a true friend and leader. Today, I return the same gesture — not just in memory, but in gratitude. What he gave to Kenya, and to us as a family, can never be repaid, only remembered,” Eugene said moments after delivering the bulls.

Eugene’s words carried the weight of history. They spoke of continuity — of how leadership and legacy can pass from one generation to another without bitterness or rivalry. The moment placed him in the emotional heart of Kenya’s political story, not as a mere spectator, but as a custodian of his brother’s ideals and Raila’s enduring vision.

As the nation prepares to lay Raila Odinga to rest, Eugene’s gesture at Bondo reminds Kenyans that politics need not erase humanity. It underscores that friendship, respect, and culture still have a place in public life.

For Eugene Wamalwa, this act may also shape his political future. It situates him in a lineage of reform, empathy, and cross–regional unity — traits that both Raila and Kijana embodied. Whether he builds upon that moral inheritance to redefine his own leadership will depend on how he interprets this symbolic bridge between past and present.

But one truth is clear: the bulls that once travelled to Kitale and now to Bondo carry more than tradition — they carry Kenya’s story of friendship, respect, and political brotherhood that outlives the men who began it.

By Anderson Ojwang

In Kisumu today, the Handshake of former President Uhuru Kenyatta and the Broad-Based Government of President William Ruto converged in a peaceful last honour of the departed enigma, Raila Amolo Odinga.

Unknown to many, the venue — Jomo Kenyatta International Stadium, at Kisumu’s Showground — was the product of the political Handshake between Uhuru and Raila after the disputed 2017 elections.

Then Cabinet Secretary for Sports, Amina Mohamed, disclosed that President Uhuru Kenyatta had given her specific instructions that a world-class stadium be built in Kisumu forthwith.

“We were directed by President Uhuru Kenyatta to put up a stadium in these grounds and make sure it’s a modern, beautiful and befitting facility for the city of Kisumu.
We have to ensure that work is completed between six and ten months. If we have a beautiful stadium in Kisumu, it will serve the entire region well, so I’m grateful that the President gave priority to this region,” Amina said then.

The 30,000-capacity Jomo Kenyatta International Stadium, constructed at a cost of Sh350 million, first opened its doors to the historic 2021 Madaraka Day celebrations.

The 2018 Kenya Handshake was a political truce made on 9th March 2018 between President Uhuru and former Kenyan Prime Minister Raila. It brought an end to the acrimony between leading political parties and tribes and promised to usher in a new era of peace. The two leaders pledged to work together to address ethnic division, corruption, and historical injustice.

The historic peace accord gave Kenya a rebirth, with Kisumu becoming Uhuru’s beloved destination, which he frequented and drove in freely.

Unknown to him and Raila, the Jomo Kenyatta International Stadium — the Handshake project — was today the venue where mourners gathered peacefully to honour Raila en route to Bondo for his burial on Sunday.

At the stadium, the Broad-Based Government took charge, giving Raila a statesman’s and befitting last respect. Raila landed in a military chopper and was later flown to his Opoda home for an overnight stay.

During the 2024 Gen Z protests over the anti-finance bill and high cost of living that nearly degenerated into making Kenya a failed state, Ruto and Raila formed the Broad-Based Government.

Recently, Ruto and Raila signed a memorandum of understanding formalising the Broad-Based Government.

Kenyans stand to gain more from the Broad-Based Government as opposed to a divided country along ethnic lines.

“No community, county, or region will be sidelined by the Broad-Based Government.”

The Broad-Based Government raised the status of Raila’s last journey, affording him a near-presidential treatment.

As a hero and a king, Raila is the first civilian to have been driven in a military vehicle that previously carried the late President Mwai Kibaki and the late General Francis Omondi Ogolla, who was the Chief of Defence Forces.

Raila became the third person, and the only civilian, to have enjoyed the status of a military procession, and the pallbearers were Colonels — a rank below the Major who carries the bodies of Presidents.

In the procession were military vehicles — an honour for a statesman and Baba.

President Ruto gave Raila a state burial, declared seven days of mourning, ordered the flying of the national flag at half-mast, and declared Friday a public holiday.

As the military flew off from Jomo Kenyatta International Stadium, Kenyans witnessed the fruits of the two political unions that have shielded the nation and held it together.

The stadium will remain historic as the last point where Uhuru and Ruto converged in honour of Raila’s immense contribution to the nation.

And Kisumu did not disappoint. It was peaceful — no ugly scenes or any reported deaths. Raila rode peacefully to his final resting place.