By David Odhiambo, UK Correspondent
The Diaspora Times

In the tapestry of biblical history, few rulers evoke as much unease as King Ahab of Israel. He was a man entrusted with national leadership, yet his reign became synonymous with spiritual decay, political violence, and a calculated assault on truth. Today, as Kenya navigates the reign of President William Ruto, echoes of Ahab’s rule haunt the land—not in prophecy, but in policy, not in scripture, but in headlines.

King Ahab’s relationship with power was never innocent. He ruled alongside Jezebel, a queen more feared than revered, and together they institutionalized false religion, executed dissenters, and manipulated state apparatus for personal gain. The most haunting image from Ahab’s reign was the murder of Naboth—a humble vineyard owner who refused to surrender his land to the king. False witnesses were summoned, the law was twisted, and Naboth was stoned to death. Ahab took the land. God sent Elijah.

The Naboths of Kenya may not own vineyards, but they exist. They are the unemployed youth gunned down in protests, the whistleblowers silenced by threats, the journalists fired for probing too deeply, and the civil servants demoted for asking uncomfortable questions. They are the citizens whose taxes build castles for elites while their children study by candlelight and walk for kilometers to access clinics that no longer stock medicine. Their inheritance is being seized—not by legal decree, but by the invisible hand of economic violence and systemic exclusion.

Ahab’s court was not devoid of prophets. It was filled with them—hundreds of them. But they were hired mouths, carefully selected to echo the king’s desires. When war loomed, they declared victory. When sin abounded, they proclaimed peace. Only one prophet, Micaiah, dared to speak otherwise—and he was thrown into prison. His crime was honesty.

In Kenya, a similar spectacle unfolds every Sunday. Men and women of the cloth stand beside Ruto at crusades, not to rebuke him, but to sanctify him. They speak not like Elijah, but like Ahab’s flatterers, turning pulpits into political podiums and sermons into state propaganda. The church, once a prophetic voice during Moi’s dictatorship, now risks becoming a golden calf molded by the hands of power. When bishops become brokers and pastors become contractors, who will cry out in the wilderness?

There are many Kenyans today who feel abandoned by the institutions meant to shield them. They see the police not as guardians of law, but as agents of suppression. They watch as government appointments favor ethnic enclaves and loyalty over merit. They hear promises of economic revival while their pockets grow emptier. And when they rise to speak—like Gen Z youth did in July 2023 and 2024—they are met not with dialogue, but with bullets. The prophetic cry of the streets is drowned by the chants of those paid to sing hallelujahs at political rallies.

Ahab’s end was not immediate, but it was certain. The blood of Naboth cried from the soil, and the prophet Elijah declared judgment. “In the place where dogs licked the blood of Naboth, dogs will lick your blood, yes, yours!” said Elijah to Ahab. And it came to pass. History’s verdict cannot be bribed, and divine justice is not bound by election cycles. What begins with a vineyard often ends with blood.

Kenya does not need an Elijah to see what is unfolding. It needs citizens who remember. It needs clergy who fear God more than grants. It needs journalists who write as if democracy depends on it—because it does. And it needs a president who understands that ruling is not conquering, and leadership is not the same as dominion.

If Ruto is not Ahab, then now is the time to prove it. Let him shun the false prophets, dismantle the structures of economic injustice, protect the rights of the voiceless, and allow the church to return to its role as moral conscience, not royal chorus. If not, history may not be kind. Kenya’s Ahab moment is upon us. The question is—will the pulpit rise, or will it bow?

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of The Diaspora Times. The publication remains committed to press freedom, constructive dialogue, and the protection of civil liberties for all.