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ADVERTKenya’s political temperature is rising—and the signals from the ground are becoming impossible to ignore. The outcome of the Ol Kalou by-election was not an isolated event; it was a sharp, deliberate message from Mt Kenya. As Bishop Emeritus Jackson Kosgei observed, Rift Valley has heard that communication loud and clear. The question now is whether those in power will interpret it with honesty—or retreat into denial.
History offers a sobering guide.
This is not the first time Mt Kenya has sent such a message. In the aftermath of President Daniel arap Moi’s exit, the region expressed its discontent in ways that were both symbolic and painful. Vestiges of Moi’s legacy were uprooted—literally. Even seasoned insiders like Sally Kosgei were moved by the emotional weight of that transition. And this, despite the fact that Moi’s administration had invested heavily in the region and elevated several of its sons—including Mwai Kibaki—to the highest levels of government.
Political gratitude, in Kenya, is fleeting.
ADVERTThe rapprochement of 2013 between Mt Kenya and Rift Valley created a decade-long political juggernaut. But alliances here are transactional, not permanent. When William Ruto declared his presidential ambitions, he quickly discovered how fragile that alliance had become—most dramatically through opposition from his predecessor, Uhuru Kenyatta. Ruto’s eventual victory, narrow and hard-fought, did not secure enduring political warmth.
Today, that coldness has returned—this time sharper, more decisive, and now clearly expressed through the ballot.
Only a fool would pretend that Ol Kalou has no bearing on 2027.
Yet beyond electoral arithmetic lies a deeper, more dangerous drift: the normalization of contempt. The tone directed at the presidency has moved beyond critique into something more corrosive. In African tradition, it is taboo to belittle a grown man—more so a leader. What we are witnessing is not just political disagreement, but a hardening belief in some quarters that others are unworthy of power altogether.
That path leads nowhere good.
This is precisely why the burden now falls on President Ruto and his inner circle to deliberately create an ambient political environment ahead of 2027—one that lowers tensions, restores mutual respect, and keeps the country anchored in democratic norms.
Central to that task is a firm rejection of goonism.
Kenya has paid dearly for flirting with politically sponsored militias. The Mt Kenya region itself knows this too well—from the excesses associated with Mungiki and Ngoroko, to the complicated legacy of the Mau Mau. These experiments in weaponized politics have always ended the same way: violence escapes its handlers, institutions weaken, and the nation bleeds.
If there is one lesson history has made brutally clear, it is this: you do not build political capital through intimidation and chaos.
More importantly, you do not win over regions like Nyanza and Western Kenya by sponsoring disorder within them.
And herein lies the stark political reality facing the current administration: the Mt Kenya vote is no longer guaranteed. The only viable path to a second term now runs through consolidating Nyanza and Western into a dependable bloc. That requires persuasion, inclusion, and tangible development—not coercion.
The rising political wave driven by figures such as Orengo, Babu, and Sifuna cannot be countered through confrontation. It must be met with strategy—and delivery.
If Ol Kalou demonstrated anything, it is that political goodwill can be cultivated. The same energy, the same visible investment, the same “splashing of goodies” must now be directed toward Western Kenya. This region has historically responded to tangible engagement and consistent presence. Its voters are pragmatic, attentive to development signals, and open to persuasion when they feel seen and included.
But that window will close quickly if the state is perceived as heavy-handed or dismissive.
The presidency stands at a narrowing crossroads. It can either double down on old tactics—risking deeper alienation and potential instability—or pivot toward a more inclusive, development-driven political strategy that broadens its base.
One path leads to a bruising, polarized contest in 2027—one increasingly framed as Mt Kenya versus Rift Valley.
The other offers a chance, however slim, to reshape the electoral map by building new alliances rooted in respect and shared progress.
As the Bishop warned, a rabbit cannot spend two nights in the same place. Political loyalty shifts. Ground moves. Messages evolve.
The one constant, however, is this: power that relies on fear is always temporary.
If this presidency is to endure, it must choose unity over intimidation, strategy over spite—and nation over narrow political survival.
Lawrence Jeffrey Ochieng
19th July, 2026
Siaya
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