“Raila Odinga: The Man Who Shook a Nation, and Then Shook Its Hand” is a good example of a hero swallowed by the seduction of proximity to power.

By The Diaspora Times Editorial Desk

The death of Raila Amolo Odinga on October 15, 2025, marks the twilight of Kenya’s most enduring political chapter. His passing closes a half-century of courage, controversy, and conviction, the struggle of a man who walked with fire in his chest and democracy on his tongue. Yet, it also exposes the tragic contradictions of a revolutionary who, in the end, shook hands with the very powers he once swore to defeat.

Born to the legacy of Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, Raila inherited not comfort but confrontation, the will to question, and the courage to resist. He rose from the torture chambers of Nyayo House to become the nation’s moral mirror, uniting millions under the banner of reform, justice, and constitutional change. For decades, his name defined Kenya’s opposition. But as the years wore on, the burden of politics grew heavier than the weight of principle.

In his final years, Raila’s political compass appeared to waver. His alliance with President William Ruto, once his fiercest adversary, startled even his staunchest loyalists. Sold as a “national handshake” and a bridge to continental leadership, the partnership became an act many saw as betrayal. His campaign for the African Union Commission chairmanship, heavily sponsored by the state, ended in humiliation, a symbolic undoing of a man once considered Africa’s moral warrior. What had begun as a quest for unity ended as a quiet surrender to the same forces that had long suppressed his cause.

It was in this moment of national confusion that the great literary prophet, Prof. Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, spoke his final words, words that now echo across the land like a requiem:

“By shaking hands with the oppressors, Raila betrayed not only Kenyans but also his own father, who fought for the nation’s democratic soul until death.”

Ngũgĩ, the conscience of African letters, then urged Kenyans to read again “Not Yet Uhuru” and “Caitani Mũtharabainĩ”, to rediscover the parables of unfinished freedom and corrupted ideals. His message was not just literary; it was prophetic. He warned of a revolution devoured by its own comfort, of heroes swallowed by the seduction of proximity to power. In his view, Raila’s handshake symbolized the burial of the opposition’s soul, the moment resistance bowed to convenience.

President Ruto, who once gained from this uneasy truce, may now find himself haunted by it. Raila’s death strips away the illusion of national unity and exposes the moral emptiness of transactional politics. For the Gen Z generation, already distrustful of the old guard, his passing reawakens anger, not only at those in power but at those who abandoned their duty to speak truth to it. They see in Raila’s end the exhaustion of an era, and in Ngũgĩ’s warning, the beginning of their own awakening.

Kenya today stands between remembrance and reckoning. The opposition without Raila is adrift; the government without his symbolic cover is exposed. Yet within this vacuum lies a chance for renewal, a call to reimagine a politics not built on personalities but on principle. Whether Kenya will rise to that challenge or repeat the same tragic cycle of betrayal remains the unanswered question.

As mourners gathered outside Orange House, one woman wept and whispered, “Baba did not die defeated; he died burdened by the truth we refused to face.”

And perhaps, in that lament, lies the real obituary of Kenya’s political soul.

Disclaimer:
This publication is for informational and analytical purposes only. It reflects unfolding events and editorial interpretation at the time of writing and does not represent any official political stance or endorsement.