Kenya’s political landscape often feels like an endless loop, where history does not just rhyme — it repeats itself with eerie precision. I have been re-reading 'The Black Bar' by Paul Mwangi, and amazed by the parallels between Kanu regime and President William Ruto’s administration.
The same tactics of repression, forced financial contributions, and the criminalisation of dissent that defined the Kanu dictatorship are now unfolding right before our eyes.
In 1989, Kanu introduced a fund for people living with disabilities. The fund, while seemingly noble, was nothing more than a forced contribution scheme imposed on civil servants. Deductions were made directly from their salaries, leaving them with no choice but to fund a project whose real beneficiaries were never the people living with disabilities but the political machinery of the day.
Fast forward to 2024, and history repeats itself. The so-called Housing Levy, presented as a solution to Kenya’s housing crisis, has turned into yet another mandatory payroll deduction, imposed on employees without consultation or consent. The more things change, the more they remain the same. Saba Saba vs June 25, 2024: A government terrified of its own people.
Kenya’s struggle for multiparty democracy reached a turning point on July 7, 1990—Saba Saba Day. In the days leading up to it, the Kanu government cracked down on opposition leaders and organisers, arresting them under the guise of “national security.” l was one of them. The objective was clear: intimidate, silence and stop the rally. But the people had had enough. Thousands defied the state, converging at Kamukunji Grounds, singing traditional songs, and demanding their rights.
What followed was a brutal police crackdown, with official reports claiming 30 people had died, though the real toll was likely higher. Now, in 2024, we are witnessing a hauntingly similar scenario. In the lead-up to the June 25th protests, the government launched mass arrests, targeting organisers and activists, labeling them as threats to national security. Protesters took to the streets, not in defiance of the law, but in demand of justice, dignity, and accountability. As expected, the state responded with violence, leading to deaths, injuries, and abductions. This time the chants were "Ruto must go".
After the bloodshed of Saba Saba, Kanu refused to acknowledge the legitimacy of the people’s grievances. Instead, they dismissed the deaths as the work of “hooligans and drug addicts."
Fast forward to 2024, and the script remains unchanged. In the aftermath of the June 25th protests, President Ruto's government has chosen the same path—branding young protesters as “treasonous criminals” rather than addressing their genuine frustrations. The language may have evolved, but the underlying strategy remains the same: demonise the people, justify state violence, and absolve those in power of any responsibility.
Kenya has been here before. The struggle for justice, economic fairness, and democratic freedoms is not new. What is new is the generation leading the charge—young, fearless, and unwilling to accept oppression wrapped in the language of governance.
The lessons of Saba Saba should serve as a warning to those in power: repression only delays the inevitable. If history has taught us anything, it is that no regime, no matter how brutal or cunning, can suppress the will of the people forever. The question is, will those in charge learn from the past, or will they continue the cycle of misrule, ensuring that the more things change, the more they remain the same?
The writer is a former MP and founding Secretary General of Ford Kenya