By James Okoth

A wave of grief and disbelief swept through Kenya’s engineering fraternity on Thursday following the death of Engineer Juma Hannington Raburu, the proprietor of Gogni Rajope Construction Company Limited, who allegedly took his own life at the Kenya Revenue Authority (KRA) offices in Kisumu.

In a strongly worded statement, the Institution of Engineers of Kenya (IEK) described Eng. Raburu’s death as “a tragic loss of a father, husband, mentor, professional colleague and a friend to many.” The association expressed deep concern over the growing emotional and financial distress faced by professionals in Kenya’s construction sector, distress that often goes unnoticed until it claims lives.

“It is regrettable that we lose a life that is promising and a resource to the nation through such an occurrence,” said Eng. Jackton Mwembe, Secretary General of the Institution of Engineers of Kenya. “No Kenyan should die because they owe their government money in form of taxes or otherwise. The best act is to have an amicable engagement and a favourable payment plan,” he added.

Eng. Mwembe pointed to pending bills owed by government institutions to contractors and consultants as a major cause of financial collapse and psychological strain among engineers. He noted that most institutions initiate projects without budgeted funds, leaving professionals to rely on loans, bridge financing and personal savings, only to face delayed or denied payment once work is completed.

“The procurement of services should not be initiated unless funds have been allocated,” Mwembe warned. “Public institutions must also work collaboratively so that if one arm fails to honour payment, a promissory note should be issued to cushion service providers from unnecessary embarrassment,” he said.

According to the Institution of Engineers of Kenya, the government’s accumulated pending bills have grown exponentially over successive administrations, with the built environment sector, encompassing engineers, architects and contractors, among the hardest hit. Many firms have since collapsed under debt, while others operate at the brink of insolvency.

Behind the statistics lies a quieter crisis, one of emotional torture, shame and unrelenting anxiety.
For engineers like Eng. Raburu, the combination of delayed payments, heavy taxation and political vilification can amount to a psychological siege.

Contractors often face public humiliation when labelled “defaulters” by revenue agencies, even as the same government delays their dues. The weight of unpaid salaries, family responsibilities and company debts pushes many professionals into isolation and despair.

Mental health experts warn that the construction industry, once viewed as a mark of economic strength, has become a breeding ground for depression and burnout.

“Engineers, by their training, are problem-solvers. When they are trapped in a system where honesty and effort don’t guarantee survival, they internalize the failure as personal,” noted a counselling psychologist familiar with contractor support groups in Kisumu. “That emotional spiral is deadly and it rarely makes the news.”

IEK’s statement urged the government to rethink how it balances taxation and economic recovery, emphasizing that while paying taxes is a patriotic duty, the same government must uphold fairness by settling its own debts promptly.

“The government must facilitate the prompt settlement of debts to service providers to enable them to carry out their constitutional duties,” Eng. Mwembe said.
“Our brother, father, friend and colleague needed a listening ear and understanding.”

Eng. Raburu’s company, Gogni Rajope Construction Limited, once symbolized hope for local engineering talent, a rare success story of a fully Kenyan-owned firm competing in a space dominated by multinational contractors. But years of political hostility, stalled contracts and financial strain took their toll.

As tributes pour in from fellow professionals, Raburu’s death has reignited painful questions about the state’s relationship with local contractors, the lack of mental-health support in professional sectors and the human cost of systemic failure.

For the Institution of Engineers of Kenya, this tragedy is more than an obituary. It is a call to conscience.

“We must build systems that protect the human beings behind our infrastructure. Roads, bridges and buildings mean nothing if the people who build them are breaking inside,” said Eng. Mwembe.

Investigations into the exact circumstances surrounding Eng. Raburu’s death are ongoing.

By James Okoth

At the Lake Basin Mall in Kisumu, what began as an ordinary Thursday morning turned into a scene of horror and disbelief. Shoppers froze. Security guards shouted. Then silence. The kind of silence that lingers after something unthinkable suddely unfolds.

The man who had just plunged from the second floor was Hannington Juma Raburu, a respected engineer and businessman whose work helped shape much of the Nyanza region’s modern infrastructure. His name was familiar in engineering and construction circles, often linked to major public works and road projects under Gogni Rajope Construction Company Ltd.

Just hours earlier, witnesses say Raburu had driven into the mall compound in his Toyota Land Cruiser V8, registration number KCY 869G. Calm, deliberate, almost ritualistic in his movements, he parked the vehicle, handed over the keys to a security guard and told him to hand over the key to his son.

Moments later, his body was seen falling from the second floor of the complex.

Emergency teams rushed to the scene, but it was too late. The man who had built bridges and roads, who had once overseen entire construction crews, lay lifeless, the very image of composure replaced by tragedy.

A Life Built on Structure

To many, Raburu was more than a contractor. He was an engineer who understood the language of structure and soil. A man who found purpose in shaping landscapes. His name appears in public engineering records linked to Gogni Rajope Construction Company Ltd, a firm behind several key projects in Nyanza.

From the Rongo–Homa Bay Road to the Ndhiwa–Karungu stretch and the Nyando Flood Management Project, Gogni’s work has defined much of the region’s infrastructural renaissance. Insiders say Raburu often played a pivotal role, overseeing earthworks, negotiating with government engineers and managing complex civil works.

He was meticulous, a stickler for standards, and a man who took pride in delivering results. But beneath the professional composure lay a private turmoil that few around him suspected.

The KRA Tax Row

According to family members, Raburu had been deeply troubled in recent weeks after allegedly receiving a Ksh. 300 million tax demand from the Kenya Revenue Authority (KRA).

The colossal assessment, which reportedly stemmed from disputed business records, had left him distraught. Friends described sleepless nights and anxious conversations about how he would settle the matter.

“He was strong, but this time, he was overwhelmed,” said one relative. “He felt trapped, that the system had turned against him.”

As an engineer entrenched in government contracting, Raburu was no stranger to bureaucracy and audits. But the sheer magnitude of the alleged tax claim seemed to erode his resolve, leaving him a shadow of his usual confident self.

In contrast, KRA responded by a press statement that confirmed the incident but devoid of the alleged claim of a tax row.

“KRA deeply regrets this incident and conveys heartful condolences to the family and friends of the deceased.” It said in part.

“The matter has been reported to the relevant authorities and the investigations are currently underway to establish the circumstances surrounding the incident. KRA is fully cooperating with law enforcement offers to facilitate the ongoing investigations.” The statement said.

The Final Walk

On the morning of October 30, Raburu arrived at Lake Basin Mall alone. Witnesses say he looked calm, composed and even as he parked his vehicle, handed the keys to a guard, and walked toward the upper floors.

Moments later, horrified shoppers and staff watched as he fell from the second-floor balcony.

Kisumu Central Sub-County Police Commander Bakari Juma Mwanauli confirmed the incident, saying detectives from the Directorate of Criminal Investigations (DCI) had taken up the matter.

“The case is being handled with the seriousness it deserves,” he said. “Our officers are working expeditiously to establish what triggered the act.”

His body was later taken to the Aga Khan Hospital mortuary in Kisumu, where it awaits postmortem examination.

A Man Who Built Roads and Reputations

Colleagues remember Hannington Juma Raburu as the kind of professional who walked job sites in polished boots. He was never too proud to correct a survey line or calculate a gradient himself.

Through Gogni Rajope Construction, he contributed to the Rongo–Homa Bay, Ndhiwa–Karungu and Nyando Basin flood-control projects — roads and works that today stand as arteries of commerce and connection across Nyanza.

He built infrastructure, but also built people by employing hundreds, mentoring site engineers and insisting on integrity in a field where corner-cutting was common.

“He carried himself like a man building not just roads, but a legacy,” said a former colleague. “That’s why this hit us so hard. It doesn’t make sense.”

The Human Cost of Pressure

In a country where tax disputes can spiral into financial ruin, Raburu’s death has sparked reflection about how many entrepreneurs and contractors silently bear unbearable weight.

For him, the alleged KRA demand may have been the final blow in a career defined by precision and pride.

Behind the blueprints and budgets was a human being. A man who wanted to build, to contribute, to leave something solid behind. Yet, when the structure around him began to crumble, no one saw how deep the cracks had run.

A Legacy Paved in Asphalt and Memory

The roads of Nyanza, the ones Raburu helped design and oversee, will carry the traffic of generations. But for those who knew him, every stretch of tarmac now carries a deeper message: that behind Kenya’s infrastructure boom lies an unspoken human toll.

In life, he built foundations for others.
In death, he leaves a question about how the system treats those who build it.

For now, Kisumu mourns not just an engineer, but a builder whose life and fall have laid bare the unseen cost of ambition and bureaucracy.

By Anderson Ojwang

Tonight at 9:00 PM Prime Time News, the legend will make a return. After three decades of absence, the legend’s voice will roar in all corners of the country and the globe.

“This is your Prime Time News, brought to you by Raphael Tuju.” The once popular voice will once again occupy Kenya’s airwaves, for tonight only, to celebrate KTN’s 35 years of existence.

Tuju, one of the pioneer anchors at Kenya’s first independent TV station and a prolific broadcaster and writer, is an all-rounded personality.

For the millennials and Gen Zs, and for the majority, Tuju is known as the former Information and Communication Cabinet Minister and later the country’s Foreign Affairs Minister.

He later became the face of the Jubilee Party, where he served as the party’s Secretary-General and as a Cabinet Minister without portfolio during President Uhuru Kenyatta’s regime.

He recently tendered his resignation from the party, saying he no longer offered any value to it and has left the public guessing about his next course of action.

Tuju was the former Member of Parliament for Rarieda Constituency in 2007 and was reputed for various development projects during his tenure.

Tuju is also a successful businessperson, running a hospitality business and a media consultancy firm.

“I am happy to be back on the airwaves again. It makes me feel and reconcile with part of my journey. This is where my story began. It will be fun to let the public know the other part of me,” he said.

KTN was founded in March 1990 as the country’s free-to-air television network.

By Billy Mijungu

This generation does not want to live elsewhere, they want to live in Africa. They are questioning the decisions of the past and demanding accountability in leadership like never before. They are not running away from their continent; they are reclaiming it. Their dream is not in Europe or America but in a better Africa governed by people who care, who listen, and who deliver.

When your neighbor’s house is on fire, never mock or laugh at them. That is President Suluhu’s lesson, a warning to every African leader watching the continent’s political winds shift. The flames of change sweeping across borders are not isolated; they are connected by a shared frustration and a renewed hope that leadership can finally mean service.

This is the generation that is taking charge of its destiny. They are not afraid to confront power, to question, or to organize. The Gen Z revolution that began in Kenya has now become a political headache across the continent. From social media activism to street protests, this movement has one unifying message: do your job or leave.

If you intend to hold elections, do not pretend to do it because Gen Z will not accept it. And if you do it, do it right because they can make you a one term leader. Zambia has seen it, Senegal has seen it, Madagascar has seen it, Cameroon is seeing it, and Tanzania is beginning to feel it. These young people are not bound by old loyalties or tribal calculations; they are driven by outcomes.

They do not care whether a government comes through the ballot or through the barracks, be it military or civilian. From Mali, Niger, and Burkina Faso to Kenya and Ghana, their message is simple: deliver results or step aside. The common denominator across all systems is delivery, jobs, justice, and dignity.

As Kenyans inch toward elections, the greatest safeguard for peace and progress will be free, fair, and transparent elections. That is the foundation of legitimacy and the demand of this generation. We cannot afford chaos or arrogance in leadership, for that would set the country on fire and cause casualties of monumental proportions.

Africa’s youth are no longer waiting for promises. They are demanding results, they are organizing for change, and they are rewriting the social contract.
Arrogance in leadership is being tamed. Accountable leadership is being demanded.

Let us pray and let us do our best.

By James Okoth

Dressed almost always in white, a deliberate choice symbolising purity and peace, Eng. Bovince Ochieng’ speaks softly but with the conviction of an engineer who understands both current and stability. Those close to him describe him as “a heavy current of calm energy”, measured, grounded, but ready to surge when needed.

As Chief Officer for Education, Technical Training, Innovation and Social Services in the Kisumu County Government, Bovince has built a reputation for quiet efficiency. He rarely seeks the spotlight, preferring instead to let his work in classrooms, vocational centres and county institutions tell his story. Yet, his growing public appeal now places him at the heart of Kisumu Central’s unfolding political conversation.

In a city famed for its passion and its politics, where voices rise easily and loyalties run deep, Bovince’s composure is disarming. His calmness is not indifference, it is design. He represents a quieter generation of leaders who believe that restraint is not weakness, but wisdom.

Although his village of origin remains less publicised, Eng. Bovince is a son of Kisumu whose professional path is deeply woven into the county’s story. Before politics began to whisper his name, he was, and still is, a public servant. At the Department of Education, he has steered critical reforms touching on Early Childhood Development, vocational training, and digital learning.

Under his stewardship, the county has prioritised the modernisation of ECDE centres, revitalised vocational training institutions, and integrated technology into classrooms. His approach has been pragmatic: empower, equip, and enable.

To many in the education sector, his brand of leadership represents what Kisumu has long needed, development without drama.

As Kisumu Central readies for yet another competitive parliamentary contest, Eng. Bovince’s message of peace has become his most distinct trademark.

“A peaceful city is a stable city,” he says. “And stability is the seed of development.”

In a constituency historically known for its political passion, that message resonates with those weary of confrontation. For business owners, peace means open doors and customers returning. For parents, it means uninterrupted learning. For the youth, it means jobs and opportunity.

By preaching calm in a region that has often been misrepresented as volatile, Bovince positions himself not only as a political aspirant but as a custodian of Kisumu’s future stability.

Kisumu Central is both the commercial and emotional heart of the county, home to Kondele, Nyalenda, Manyatta, and the city’s bustling CBD. It is politically expressive, youthful, and diverse. Here, the ODM wave remains dominant, but voter attitudes are shifting. Increasingly, residents want leaders who deliver, not just those who speak loudest.

It is in this evolving political environment that Bovince’s technocratic background and peace-first message find traction. His work at the county government gives him visible impact, his soft-spoken temperament gives him contrast. In a field likely to feature seasoned campaigners, his calm professionalism could become a strength rather than a weakness.

Kisumu Central’s politics has always mirrored the city’s heartbeat, passionate and sometimes unpredictable. But as the county grows, a new generation of voters is demanding maturity, inclusion, and results. Eng. Bovince Ochieng’ appears to fit that mould.

He speaks the language of innovation, skills, and youth empowerment, but insists that none of it is possible without peace.
His belief is that Kisumu must outgrow its reputation for turbulence and claim its rightful place as a hub of business, education, and regional trade.

“No investor will build where there is tension,” he says. “No child will learn where there is fear and no dream can grow amid unrest.”

VOX POPS: What Kisumu Central Residents Say

1. Ruth Achieng, Teacher, Nyalenda:

“Eng. Bovince is the kind of leader our children need. He has been in the education system long enough to know where the gaps are. His peace message feels genuine, not political.”

2. Kevin Odhiambo, Boda Boda Operator, Kondele:

“We have seen many politicians come here only when there’s a campaign. But this man is different. He talks about peace and development. If the town is calm, we all benefit, even small hustlers like us.”

3. Maureen Atieno, Businesswoman, Oginga Odinga Street:

“Kisumu Central needs a leader who can bring people together. Bovince’s tone is respectful and professional. I think people are tired of chaos. We want calm leaders who can create jobs and attract investors.”

Whether he will officially join the 2027 parliamentary race remains to be seen. But the conversations around Kisumu Central increasingly include his name, not because he shouts, but because he serves.

He represents a quieter, steadier current in a city long defined by political storms. A professional who believes that peace is the true power that lights development, and that progress is built not on protest but on purpose.

If Kisumu Central is the heart of the county, Eng. Bovince Ochieng’ is emerging as its rhythm, steady, sincere, and strong.

Peace, stability, and development are not just campaign slogans for Eng. Bovince Ochieng’.
They are his engineering blueprint for Kisumu’s political and economic rebirth.

By James Okoth

The stillness that hung over Kang’o ka Jaramogi in Bondo was heavy with emotion as leaders from across Western Kenya gathered to pay homage to Raila Amolo Odinga, Kenya’s fallen statesman.

At the heart of the ceremony stood Francis Atwoli, the seasoned Secretary General of the Central Organization of Trade Unions (COTU), who for the first time since Raila’s passing opened up about a deeply personal bond, one anchored in friendship, empathy and shared struggle.

Taking the microphone in a trembling tone, Atwoli began by acknowledging that the grief had kept him silent since Raila’s burial.

“Mimi nitaongea kwa ufupi sana, naongea kwa sababu ile siku kuu sikupata nafasi ya kuonge,” he began. (I will speak briefly today, because on the main day I didn’t get a chance to speak.)

“Tangu tumpoteze Baba, imekuwa ni vigumu sana kwangu hata nikijaribu kuongea, maneno haiingi. Sababu yake ikiwa ya kwamba, all his doctors, yeye ndiye aliintroduce mimi to those doctors.”
(Since we lost Baba, it has been very hard for me, even when I try to speak, words fail me. The reason is that he was the one who introduced me to all his doctors.)

A hush fell over the mourners. Few had known how close the two men had been, or that they had even shared a hospital ward at one point.

“Mwaka jana, it was not easy for me and him. Wengi hamjui. Nikikutolea picha zangu na yeye, mwezi wa March, utashangaa sana akini encourage mimi kupigwa shindano katika matako ambaye ilikuwa haijafunikwa na kitu chochote; na nilikuwa nimeogopa.”
(Last year was not easy for both of us. Many of you don’t know. If I showed you pictures of me and him in March, you would be surprised. He was encouraging me to get an injection on my bare buttocks and I was afraid.)

The crowd erupted in brief laughter, a needed moment of lightness in the solemn atmosphere, before Atwoli’s tone softened again.

“Alikaa na mimi mwezi huo wote wa March. Nyinyi wote Wakenya hamkujua tulikuwa hospitali moja na yeye. Na alikuwa ananiangalia kama mtu anaangalia ndugu yake.”
(He stayed with me that entire month of March. You Kenyans didn’t know that we were in the same hospital. He watched over me like one watches a brother.)

Atwoli then paused, visibly emotional, as he spoke of Winny Odinga, Raila’s daughter.

“Na mtoto wake anaitwa Winny ndiye alikuwa anani encourage niende through all those processes.”
(And his daughter, Winny, was the one encouraging me to go through all those procedures.)

The veteran trade unionist painted a picture of Raila not as a politician, but as a man of immense compassion, one who carried others’ pain as his own.

He described Raila as a lifelong friend of Kenyan workers, a man who respected the dignity of labour and understood the struggles of ordinary people.

“The workers of Kenya, and indeed of Africa, have lost a great man,” he said softly.

Atwoli was part of a high-level delegation led by Prime Cabinet Secretary Musalia Mudavadi, joined by National Assembly Speaker Moses Wetang’ula, governors James Orengo, Fernandes Barasa and Paul Otuoma, as well as several MPs and former Attorney General Amos Wako.

They visited Raila’s grave at Kang’o ka Jaramogi, laid wreaths and later met Mama Ida Odinga at Opoda Farm, where they offered words of comfort to the family.

Mudavadi, who led the delegation, hailed Raila as a statesman of rare courage and vision.

“We continue to miss and grieve the loss of a mentor, a patriot and a leader whose vision for a united Kenya remains unmatched.” Mudavadi said.

For Atwoli, the day’s ceremony was not merely a formal visit, it was a deeply personal farewell to a man he called “brother.”

As the sun sank over the hills of Bondo, his message echoed through the crowd…that true friendship, just like true leadership, transcends politics and time.

The two men, one a fiery unionist, the other a tireless reformist, had found in each other not just partnership, but kinship.

As mourners filed out of Kang’o ka Jaramogi, there was a quiet sense that through Atwoli’s tears, Kenya had been reminded of the very essence of Raila Odinga’s legacy of love for humanity, humility in service and strength in unity.

By James Okoth

At the quiet, wind swept grounds of Kang’o ka Jaramogi in Bondo, Siaya County, history once again came full circle. Prime Cabinet Secretary Musalia Mudavadi, accompanied by Western Kenya governors, Members of Parliament and senior officials, led a solemn delegation to pay their respects to the late Rt. Hon. Raila Amolo Odinga, weeks after his burial.

The visit was far more than a courtesy call. It was a deeply symbolic gesture, an affirmation of the Luo, Luhya brotherhood, a friendship that has survived political storms, ideological turns and generational change.

“Stopped by Bondo, a historic cradle of our nation’s independence and a home that embodies Kenya’s enduring story of leadership and resilience, to condole with Mama Ida and the family of my late brother, Rt. Hon. Raila Odinga days after we laid him to rest,” Mudavadi said during the visit.
“Mine was just to come again and tell the family that we continue to miss and grieve the loss of a statesman and a mentor to many.” He added.

Flanked by Speaker Moses Wetang’ula, governors James Orengo, Fernandes Barasa and Paul Otuoma, COTU Secretary General Francis Atwoli and former Attorney General Amos Wako, Mudavadi’s presence in Bondo underscored a message older than politics itself, that kinship between the Luo and Luhya runs deeper than party lines.

The Prime CS, who also serves as Cabinet Secretary for Foreign and Diaspora Affairs, said the country still feels the void left by Raila’s resolute leadership, yet his legacy, grounded in dignity, diligence, candour and courage, would continue to inspire generations.

“I deeply miss our warm exchanges, ‘Mwana wa Hannah’ and ‘Woud Mary,’ moments that strengthened our friendship beyond politics,” he added. “They reminded us of the bonds of family, faith and our shared hopes for Kenya’s future.”

The emotional moment in Bondo drew from a long lineage of solidarity. The Odinga, Wamalwa friendship, like the Jaramogi, Muliro alliance before it, defined Western Kenya’s political and moral compass for decades.

When Jaramogi Oginga Odinga and Masinde Muliro stood shoulder to shoulder during the independence struggle, they envisioned a Kenya anchored in justice, truth and equality. That spirit was later mirrored by Raila Odinga and Kijana Wamalwa, who, despite political differences, always found unity in respect.

In 1994, when Jaramogi died, it was Wamalwa who stood beside Raila in mourning. In 2003, when Wamalwa passed, Raila stood before the nation to honour him. Their sons, by action and tradition, kept alive the conviction that the Luo and Luhya are not just neighbours, they are brothers in destiny.

The atmosphere at Kang’o ka Jaramogi was heavy with memory and meaning. It was not a political rally but a pilgrimage. The leaders laid wreaths, offered prayers and held moments of silence for a man they all called Baba, a celebrated icon of Kenya’s democratic journey.

“We have come here as brothers,” Mudavadi told the mourners. “Our people have shared struggles and triumphs. We will continue to walk together, guided by peace, respect and unity.”

Among the dignitaries was retired Ghanaian President Nana Akufo Addo, who had travelled from Accra to pay tribute to his old friend. Mudavadi thanked him warmly for the gesture.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “This was your true friend and you came all the way from Ghana to be with us and the family of Raila. It is an honour not just to us but to the people of Kenya.”

Addo had been among the first global leaders to mourn Raila’s death on October 15, noting that “Kenya and Africa have lost a courageous democrat and a tireless fighter for justice.”

Beyond the ceremony, the day in Bondo evoked a shared history that stretches across the borders of Siaya, Busia and Kakamega, where Luo and Luhya families have intermarried, traded and coexisted for generations. Their languages mingle in the markets of Nambale and Luanda, their songs echo in the hills of Maragoli and Asembo and their customs mirror one another in rhythm and respect.

This interwoven identity has been tested by political tides, yet it remains resilient. The two communities have exchanged not just leaders but ideals, courage, hard work and humility.

As the delegation later visited Mama Ida Odinga at the Opoda farm, the mood was reflective but hopeful. The leaders joined the people of Bondo in celebrating the life of Raila Odinga, the reformist who embodied their shared vision for a democratic, just and united Kenya.

Amos Wako called Raila’s death “a national loss,” while Francis Atwoli described him as “a moral compass and the conscience of our politics.”

In their presence, the spirit of unity that bound Jaramogi and Muliro, Raila and Wamalwa, now found continuity in Mudavadi and his peers, a renewed assurance that, even in grief, Western Kenya stands as one family.

As the sun dipped behind the Bondo hills, the symbolism was undeniable. From Jaramogi to Raila, from Muliro to Wamalwa, from Wamalwa to Mudavadi, the chain of brotherhood remains unbroken.

In every condolence visit, every handshake and every moment of remembrance, the Luo and Luhya affirm that their unity is not a political convenience but a cultural covenant.

Politics may divide, but history binds.

The Luo, Luhya friendship has withstood the weight of time, ideology and loss. What began as a political alliance has become a living tradition of brotherhood, respect and shared destiny.

As Musalia Mudavadi’s visit to Kang’o ka Jaramogi reminded the nation, some bonds are not written in manifestos, they are written in memory, sacrifice and love for Kenya.