Kenya has been mourning from 15th October, I have been mourning. I saw the news about the death of Honourable Raila Amollo Odinga on whatsaap status and not being a stranger to misinformation, I quickly scrolled through twitter looking for a reputable source. I must mention that I was in class, undertaking a workshop on research and that morning, I had turned to social media because my brain had stopped processing the information the instructors were trying to impart. I was questioning the importance of the class and in that moment, I would have rather resumed work and relieve my remaining brain cells from the agony I was putting them through.
Raila Amollo Odinga is an enigma, I like many other Kenyans immortalized him and never pictured his death. I remember the sting of death when I processed the news, I also remember quickly blinking away the tears because I was in public and my company was new to me. In the course of the day I allowed myself a moment for the news to sink in the bathroom but just that, a moment.
I postponed my grief from Wednesday morning to Friday when I was done with the training and had presented my project and listened to my classmates present theirs. This was the first time I utilized a gazetted public holiday for its purpose and the state funeral was a much needed relieve. Friday morning was the first time I would break down and later in the afternoon, I braced myself as I went to view his body, lying at Nyayo Stadium.
Hell I was scared. There was heavy police presence and the memory of two people who had lost their lives the previous day on the same quest lingered. We had agreed that we have to view the body and pay our last respect but each hurdle along the way posed the question, are we still going? We met people leaving the stadium urging us to turn back while we still can, the ground was chaotic and our effort would be worthless if we became a statistic. We took turns being the courageous one. At the threat of a stampede I was ready to call it quits but my partner convinced the crowd to pave way for me being a woman. Much as I appreciated the gesture, that move separated us and the agreement was that we were in this together. I waited anxiously as I was crouching, following the police orders and shortly, he was next to me.
We spent the entire weekend eyes glued to the television watching the country mourn. The mood was somber and I am glad the mourning went uninterrupted until we could face the world on Tuesday morning. Grief, disbelief, indescribable pain for the insurmountable loss then embarking on the 4 of the 7 stages of grief; denial, bargaining, acceptance and hope, and processing grief.
Growing up I enjoyed watching Raila’s campaigns. He had a way of interacting with the crowd that would leave you inspired, part of the cause and yearning for more. Mama mbogas and everyone who earns from hand to mouth would close shop for the several hours and go listen to Jakom. He never provided food for their tables but somehow, that interaction that left you charged was more than enough. Families would unite in the evening to watch news and see the different parts of the country he was at and what he spoke. These were the days families would also be reading newspapers and we would look at the different angles Baba’s photos were taken.
Until current president William Ruto’s regime, politics was always fun to watch. I lived for the banter the politicians would throw at each other and they were quick in their responses. Then news stations had this segment called news bytes where they would compile all the jabs shared during the week delivered with anecdotes and charge the atmosphere further for the next week. We knew which politician was from which camp. We took brave political stands and were rooting for individuals to advance in their political careers. Slowly, news has become very heavy to watch and the jabs losing comic appeal.
Raila Odinga was hope for my community. Since independence, the Luo community has been sidelined because we have not been part of government. The area is under developed compared to the central part of Kenya and the great minds that come from the region have not helped making it any better. Baba was our chance at finally having representation. Baba was our chance to getting development in our community. Baba was our chance at being part of government and not opposition. Much as some people have frowned at the several hands he has shook during his political tenure, the handshakes have been a gateway to us accessing funds, to us getting funding for a stadium, to us getting reliable water supply, to us getting affordable electricity and to us improving the livelihoods of our people.
When I mourn baba, I grieve for his contribution to the Luo community. Yes, there is always room for improvement but without him we would not even see the loopholes. I am challenged to find what I strongly believe in, to have a cause that will outlive me and that is for the sole benefit of people who cannot repay me. I am challenged to be an active participant in the Kenyan politics. Indeed we have lost an enigma but the light he shone will only burn brighter in his death.
Fare thee well Baba.
Dimples Migraines and Aahs 