By Professor Peter Ndiang’ui, Fort Myers, Florida

Kenyans, we are trapped in a theatre of the absurd. Since the passing of Raila Odinga, our national discourse has been hijacked by petty theatrics, half-truths, and calculated distractions. “Raila told me this,” “Raila told me that”—echoes reverberating across newsrooms and social media—have turned a solemn moment of mourning into a grotesque political circus. As we squabble over whispers and imagined confidences, the deeper wounds of our nation continue to bleed, unseen and untreated.

Consider how a truth-teller like ODM Secretary-General Edwin Sifuna is being hounded. Look at the uproar over the Nyeri Governor’s statement that Raila’s passing was an act of God. What we are witnessing is not national reflection; it is a moral spectacle—a modern echo of the biblical crowd crying, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” A society intoxicated by distraction while the true architects of manipulation work behind the scenes.

And while Kenya’s attention is fixated on gossip—on who said what and on performative outrage—President Ruto moves quietly but decisively. On the very day of Raila’s death, he signed into law a raft of oppressive bills—legislation designed to corrode civil liberties, consolidate executive power, and undermine the very foundations of our democracy. One must ask: what was the urgency? Could the President not have waited until the mourning period ended? Or was this timing deliberate—a coldly choreographed act meant to bury authoritarian maneuvers beneath a national tragedy?

Questions multiply like shadows at dusk. Why was Rachel Ruto absent from comforting Ida Odinga in her grief? What were Ruto and his lieutenants afraid the opposition might reveal if given a voice at the national mourning ceremony? Why do we obsess over trivialities—who shook hands, who didn’t—while laws that will determine the nation’s destiny pass unnoticed?

Meanwhile, Ruto crowns himself not only leader of UDA but also of ODM, mocking unity while deepening tribal fissures and orchestrating spectacles to mask governance failures. Why the sudden temper, the shouting, the theatrical anger in his public addresses? Is it fear? Guilt? Or the realization that the illusion of control is slipping away? Something has gone really wrong with William Ruto. Just observe his newly acquired demeanor as he speaks.

Kenyans must open their eyes. The emperor may be finely dressed, but he stands naked before us. Look beyond the noise. Read the bills. Understand what is being quietly rewritten in the name of reform. This is no longer politics as usual; it is a deliberate campaign of deception and distraction. We must refuse to be seduced by spectacle and manipulation. The task before us is urgent: to reclaim truth, to demand transparency, and to insist that governance serve the people—not the ambitions of the few.

The people of Kenya deserve truth, not theatre. History warns that when societies become addicted to spectacle, tyranny takes root. The hour demands vigilance, courage, and clarity of purpose. Ruto and his henchmen must cease their diversions. Kenya’s destiny cannot be determined in the shadows of distraction. The time to awaken, to see, to question, to act, and to speak the truth is now—before the nation’s soul is quietly bartered away behind the curtain of absurdity.

Disclaimer

The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author, Professor Peter Ndiang’ui, and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of The Diaspora Times or its editorial team. All content is presented for informational and analytical purposes in the interest of public discourse and freedom of expression. Readers are encouraged to verify facts independently and engage constructively on issues affecting Kenya and the wider global community.