By Professor Peter Ndiang’ui, Fort Myers, Florida

“When the madness of an entire nation disturbs a solitary mind, it is not enough to say the man is mad.” – Ugandan proverb
“It is always darkest before dawn.” – African proverb

There comes a time when silence becomes complicity. When history begins to echo the darkest chapters of tyranny—and those entrusted to protect the people turn their guns on them—one must speak.

Today, that urgency bears a name: Kipchumba Murkomen.

The so-called Cabinet Secretary for Interior and National Administration has not only betrayed public trust—he has shattered every boundary of decency, legality, and democratic principle. His recent utterances are not merely reckless; they are the rantings of a man drunk on authority and deluded by power.

Let it not be forgotten: just a year ago, it was Murkomen who lobbied to control the Interior docket. In hushed corners and public broadcasts alike, he told President William Ruto—whose own contempt for dissent is no secret—that he would “deal with Gen-Z once and for all.” Ruto obliged. And now, the blood has come.

We are witnessing the results:

• Children gunned down.
• Mothers burying sons in hurried, unmarked graves.
• Police stations converted into execution chambers.
• Youth abducted for nothing more than a tweet.

This government is no longer a constitutional authority—it is an organized, state-sponsored engine of terror. And with Murkomen as its architect, it is worse than the colonial regime we once fought to overthrow.

Murkomen is not just incompetent. He is politically, morally, and ideologically unfit. This is not exaggeration—it is a national diagnosis. Only a deranged man could preside over mass death and label it “remarkable restraint.”

This is the same man who told police to shoot to kill, who dismissed guns as “not for decoration,” who declared peaceful protestors “terrorists.” He has not upheld the Constitution. He has desecrated it.

Let us be clear:
This is not law enforcement. This is not public safety. This is state-sanctioned murder.

Article 37 of the Constitution of Kenya guarantees the right to protest. That right is not subject to Murkomen’s whims or Ruto’s paranoia. Yet under their command, the Constitution has been trampled beneath blood-soaked boots.

They claim a coup was foiled. We ask: what coup—and by whom?
The only coup underway is the slow, systematic dismantling of democracy by the very men entrusted to protect it.

Murkomen and Ruto are not merely misguided—they are co-conspirators in a war against the dreams of an awakened generation. This is not about peace. It is about power. It is about silencing hope, criminalizing youth, and entrenching impunity.

And as this country bleeds, Ruto—aloof and arrogant—dares to mock the pain. As the chants of “Ruto Must Go” and “Wantam!” echo through the cities, he sneers, “Go where?” He refuses to acknowledge the fury of the nation and scoffs at the idea of power transition.

We’ve heard this tune before—from Moi, from every man who mistook State House for a personal inheritance. But history has a sharp memory. And a sharper turning point.

To Ruto, we say: With Murkomen by your side, your clock is ticking. Your time is nearly up.

We must not lose more children to tear gas and gunfire. We must not allow this criminal elite to write our national obituary. These are dark days—but dawn is coming. And when it comes, the names of the perpetrators will not vanish in propaganda. They will be engraved in memory—not with honor, but with shame.

Let it be known:
When the truth commissions are seated—when victims are named—Kipchumba Murkomen’s name will not be forgotten.

Until that day, we resist. We resist tyranny. We resist the criminalization of protest. We resist the madness—even if we resist alone.

Because, as the Ugandan proverb reminds us:

“When the madness of an entire nation disturbs a solitary mind, it is not enough to say the man is mad.”

No—it is the nation that has gone mad.
And in such times, it is the duty of that solitary voice to speak. To mourn. To rage. To remember.

Kenya is not a battlefield. Kenyans are not insurgents. And Kipchumba Murkomen is not above the law.

He must go.

He must be held accountable.

The blood of our children is on his hands—and on those of his master.

And history will judge them. Not with mercy. But with memory.