The first image of Raila Odinga aka Baba’s walk into Gusii Stadium he had a blue kaftan shirt, which he shed off to adorn a white Shabana FC shirt when he rose to the pedestal.
“Haaaayaaaaa!” Baba bellowed into the microphone to signal he had arrived on the stage. It is a common grunt that means, nothing really, even though it almost always elicits loud cheers of affirmation.
Baba, after all, is a man of the people and in this very region, he has enjoyed solid political support for a generation. “Haaaayaaaaa!” he repeated, and the grunt received a gaggle of eloquent rebuke. Raila must go!” came the chant. “Ruto must go!”
For a moment, my heart went out to him; not just because of the unison chant that garnered pace and threatened to bring down the rafters of the stadium, but because of the forlorn figure that he cut in that very instance.
It’s not just the uncertainty of what was safe to say or do, but because he seemed so miscast for the role: the sports gear accentuated his rotund girth, which had been a subject of online vitriol the previous day, apparently because young people saw Baba’s alacrity in cutting deals with the Kenya Kwanza administration as primarily actuated by his quest for more resources to stuff his belly.
And now they sang: “Raila must go!” and “Ruto must go!” Kisii has remained Baba’s bastion for such a long time, this chant has shaken his confidence to the core. He moved quickly to explain that it is Prezzo Ruto who made the first move— as though it matters— and that Prezzo Ruto was freaked out when Gen-Z protests rocked the land, as if Kenyans care.
The intimation from the crowd in Kisii stadium, “Raila must go” and “Ruto must go,” was an unequivocal testament that folks in Kisii simply wanted to enjoy a game of football without the vitimbi that both men have come to represent.
It doesn’t get clearer than that. But since politicians are interested in explanations and scapegoats, they will look for answers elsewhere.