The one thing that has always been constant about Baba is not only what he did, but how he made people feel. With him, it never mattered which side of the political divide you were on--you knew that when any regime, including those he served in like the Narc and Grand Coalition governments, pushed too far, there was someone who would stand up for Kenya. Baba was that person, across generations. His greatness lay not in the offices he held, but in his refusal to surrender the truth, regardless of who stood to benefit.
From the days when defying single-party rule meant detention, to the recent era of foul-mouthed politics and tough-talking principals, he stood firm for citizens who often asked him to carry their hopes--then disappointed him at the ballot. Whether you call them losses or stolen elections, they never stopped him from doing what he believed was right for all Kenyans, from every corner of the country.
Even when the nation teetered--when exuberant Gen Z protests were overtaken by darker, vested interests--he stood tall for peace and continuity. He did so even when it meant defending a regime led by politicians who had long attacked him, sometimes viciously. He likely did it for Kenya. In doing so, he changed the presidency, too. Listening to the Head of State since the inception of the Broad-Based Government (BBG), it is clear Baba's gesture offered a lesson rooted in Kant's categorical imperative: act only on that maxim you would will to be universal law.
Follow us on WhatsApp | LinkedIn for the latest headlines
Bringing Baba into government and recognising him as a statesman--whose contributions to democracy and development are indelible--earned the President deserved plaudits. But that recognition followed Baba's own selfless act: once again rising for the country's greater good. While his record had already earned him the stature of an elder, it took his willingness to steady this regime, in keeping with his lifelong habit of stepping up for Kenya, for the President to finally take heed.
While Baba merited, by any measure, a state funeral, we should still credit the President for according him one--and a fitting one. He did the right thing. The Luo nation will remember that gesture.
Still, there are hard truths we--as the Luo nation--must face. It is not by chance that Baba left us in government. He likely knew that, in his absence, being outside would be punishing. I do not subscribe to the triumphalism of "we are in government"--by law, once IEBC declares a winner, the President governs for all, and the Constitution demands an administration that reflects the face of Kenya. But realism also tells us that a clique of leaders often claims political and economic entitlement. That primordial instinct--insisting the country "belongs" to them--is precisely why we should thank Baba for leaving us inside the BBG, after years in the trenches. Consider what some have said since his passing; imagine where we would be otherwise.
Sign up for free AllAfrica Newsletters
Get the latest in African news delivered straight to your inbox
It is also crucial to separate 2027 politics from today's responsibility. The experts seconded by ODM to government, and the legislators proclaiming "Baba left us in BBG," must carry the weight of that responsibility now--delivering for the people. It would be folly to boast of being in BBG while perpetuating exactly what Baba fought all his life: regimes that disenfranchise regions, reward only their own, or enrich a few through corruption.
These leaders must distinguish themselves. If they truly wish to help the President, it is their service to Kenyans--not proximity to power--that should earn votes in 2027. It will be hard for many without Baba. No one knows what Kenya will look like by then. For now, we see two camps: some clinging to President William Ruto for survival, others chasing clout by invoking Raila's name. Let it be known: neither clinging nor clout will save those who fail to deliver--inside the regime or outside it. And no amount of posturing will elevate any one individual to Baba's level.
Baba built a brand beyond sectarian interest. He was loved and feared, but that was beside the point: he did not merely define politics--he was politics. For four decades he offered a steadying presence to admirers and critics alike, a pillar of justice and safety. That is what Kenya will miss most: a voice that steadied the nation when chaos loomed, and a conscience that reminded power of its limits.
