When the history of Kenya is not just written but felt, one name will echo louder than most: Raila Amollo Odinga. Much has already been said about his passing. The grief, the tributes, the vigils--these reflect the size of the void he leaves. But public mourning doesn't prove his greatness; the lives he touched do. For many of us, he has been great from the first moment his name crossed our ears.
For some, that first encounter was with the fiery Raila--the maverick detained for eight long years not for any crime, but for daring to dream of a democratic Kenya. For others, it was "Tinga," the organiser who left FORD-Kenya and built a political machine from the ground up. Then came Agwambo, the unpredictable force whose three words--"Kibaki tosha"--reset the country's democratic course.
To Millennials and Gen Z, he is simply Baba--a father figure of our political consciousness. Even when crushed by injustice, he rose again; not for self-preservation, but in service of the nation's soul. Because of him, key pillars of our democratisation were tested and strengthened: an election annulled, a public square where ideas truly contend, and a culture where even his fiercest critics could challenge him--and be heard.
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My memory of Baba stretches back to childhood. I never sat with him one-on-one, yet my public life as a political analyst has been shaped by his ideals since my first encounter with his presence. I was in lower primary when a by-election was called in Migori, after Hon. Owino Likowa defected to KANU having won the 1992 seat. I had attended FORD rallies before--giants like Prof. Ouma Muga looming large at Jaramogi Oginga Odinga's side. Raila was not yet the towering figure he would become, but that by-election felt different. The state's goal was clear: sabotage FORD-Kenya and strip it of the Official Opposition.
Then came Baba--young, resolute, charismatic. He stood at Migori Teachers Training College and, to my mind, single-handedly frustrated the mischief. He ensured the will of the people prevailed. We celebrated him. In that moment my admiration was born--not merely for a politician, but for a guardian of democracy who came to the rescue of the people of Migori.
Fast-forward to 2022. In a glimpse of the private man behind the public figure, his daughter Winnie recalled how, as a child, she once grew afraid of the crowd at an NDP rally. Raila's response was simple and searing: "Don't be scared. These are your people. If you have a good life, they must have a better life." That line reveals more about his creed than any slogan. It wasn't about power for power's sake. It wasn't merely about winning. It was about redistributing dignity--lifting the many, not insulating the few.
In a political culture often marked by opportunism, Baba chose a harder path. When he spoke, when he challenged the state, the system, or his own allies, it wasn't out of spite. It was moral clarity, carried by millions. He wasn't chasing relevance; he was chasing justice. That is why, even in defeat, he won hearts. That is why, even when he lost elections, he rarely lost the moral argument.
What many overlook is how often he chose reconciliation. He did not weaponise his pain. He channelled it into purpose--reaching across bitterness and betrayal to build bridges. He reinvented tactics but never abandoned principle. That was his genius.
And that, more than anything, is what Kenya will miss.
We will miss his voice--not just as a politician, but as a compass.
We will miss the fire in his belly--not because it sought to dominate, but because it sought to uplift.
We will miss the man who reminded us that democracy is not given; it is earned.
In this moment of mourning, let us resist polishing his memory into empty hero worship. He was flawed. He was controversial. He was human. And he was ours.
So we do not mourn his greatness as though it is gone; we recognise it, because greatness endures. Not only in the man who ran for office, but in the man who rallied us toward unity. Not only in the leader who bled for freedom, but in the citizen who carried a nation's hope--even when it broke his heart.
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Raila Odinga was not just of his time; he shaped it.
A keeper of memory.
A voice of the future.
A reminder that one life--lived courageously--can bend a nation's arc.
His legacy lives on.
Not in monuments, but in movements.
Not in silence, but in our speaking.
Not only in the past, but in the justice we insist upon for Kenya's future.
Rest in power, Baba. You were, truly, for the people.
[Dr. Hesbon Owila is a Media and Political Communications Researcher.]
