By Mutunga Tobbias / The Common Pulse/latest news /US/ Kenya/Abroad/Africa / OCTOBER2025.
Kenya awoke this week to a silence it had never known before, a silence heavy with memory and meaning, a silence that comes when a voice that shaped the soul of a nation falls quiet. Raila Amollo Odinga is gone, and with him passes an era, a vision, and a fire that burned for justice, democracy, and unity. His death is not just the loss of a man, it is the closing of a chapter that began before independence and stretched into the heart of modern Kenya.
Raila was never merely a politician, he was a symbol, a bridge between generations, a man who embodied the struggle of a people who refused to be forgotten. From the days he stood beside his father, Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, watching the long and painful birth of a nation, to his final years as an elder statesman and moral compass, Raila’s life was intertwined with Kenya’s destiny. His name was whispered in prison cells, chanted in stadiums, and invoked in courtrooms and protests alike. He represented defiance against dictatorship, resilience in defeat, and hope in despair.
Born in 1945 in Maseno, Raila’s early life mirrored the promise and pain of a young Kenya. Educated in East Africa and East Germany, he was a child of both continents, a mind sharpened by the ideals of freedom and equality that defined the post-colonial awakening. When he returned home, he found a Kenya still chained by corruption and tribalism, and he refused to accept it. His entry into politics was not one of privilege but of purpose, a calling rather than a career. He would pay for it with years of imprisonment, torture, and exile, yet each time he emerged stronger, his resolve unbroken.
His years in detention during the Moi era forged him into something unshakable. He lost freedom, he lost time with family, but he never lost faith in the people of Kenya. For Raila, power was never a prize, it was a tool, one that must serve justice and equality. The nation remembers those days of the 1980s and 1990s when his name became synonymous with reform. When others feared the regime, he spoke. When others compromised, he resisted. His voice gave courage to a generation that would later deliver the 2010 Constitution, a document he had fought for long before it became fashionable.
To understand Raila is to understand Kenya itself, its contradictions, its beauty, its struggles. He was a Luo who stood against tribal politics, a socialist who worked with capitalists, a reformer who made peace with former enemies, and a visionary who sometimes walked alone. His political life was defined by both victory and heartbreak. The 2007 election remains one of the darkest moments in the nation’s history, a time when Kenya bled, and Raila stood in the middle of the storm. He called for calm even as his supporters cried foul, and he took a deal for peace not because it served him, but because it saved Kenya. That moment, like many in his life, revealed his essence, a man who placed country above self, people above pride.
In 2018, when he stretched out his hand to Uhuru Kenyatta in the now famous “Handshake,” he once again defied political logic. Many saw betrayal, but Raila saw reconciliation. He had the wisdom to know that peace is sometimes the greater victory. That handshake changed Kenya’s trajectory, calming tempers, healing wounds, and setting the stage for political reformation, even if it cost him politically. He was never afraid of losing if Kenya could win.
Raila’s legacy extends beyond elections and political deals. He was a father figure to millions of Kenyans who saw in him the courage to speak truth to power. His speeches carried the rhythm of a people’s history, his rallies were theaters of hope, and his words, often poetic, sometimes fiery, were the heartbeat of Kenya’s democratic journey. Whether he stood in Parliament or before a sea of supporters in Kibera, Raila’s voice carried the weight of conviction. He made politics human again, emotional, and deeply connected to the ordinary struggles of life.
Beyond politics, Raila was a lover of art, football, and culture. He cherished Gor Mahia, the team that became part of his identity, and he supported artists and musicians who told Kenya’s story through their craft. He loved his family with quiet strength, his late son Fidel’s memory never far from his heart, his wife Ida his lifelong companion through joy and storm alike. Their partnership was one of endurance and shared sacrifice, the kind of union that stands as a lesson in loyalty and resilience.
Even in his later years, when many would have chosen rest, Raila remained restless for change. He campaigned not because he needed power, but because he believed Kenya could still be better, fairer, more united. He often said that leadership was about service, not self, and his own life reflected that truth. The young people he inspired, activists, journalists, reformers, carry fragments of his spirit, a living reminder that the struggle does not end with one man’s passing.
As Kenyans gathered across cities and villages to mourn, it became clear that Raila had transcended politics. He had become something larger, a myth woven into the nation’s conscience. In Nairobi, Mombasa, Kisumu, and beyond, candles were lit, songs were sung, and prayers rose not only for his soul but for the dream he carried. His name will forever stand alongside those who built this republic not with wealth or force, but with courage and vision, men like Tom Mboya, Dedan Kimathi, and his own father, Jaramogi.
What made Raila exceptional was not perfection but persistence. He lost elections, faced betrayal, endured ridicule, yet he never turned bitter. He taught Kenya that defeat can be honorable if the cause is just. His politics were never merely about power, but about principle. He believed that democracy must be lived daily, that the true measure of leadership is the ability to forgive, and that progress is never linear but worth every setback.
His eulogy, therefore, cannot just be about death. It must be about continuity. Raila’s passing should remind Kenya that the ideals he fought for, justice, equity, unity, remain unfinished business. The youth he inspired must now carry that torch. The leaders who once opposed him must honor his memory by serving with humility. The nation he loved must rise above the divisions that broke his heart.
In the end, Raila Odinga leaves behind no mansion of gold, no dynasty of untouchable privilege, but a legacy written in the hearts of millions. His name will echo wherever freedom is defended, wherever truth is spoken to power, wherever a young Kenyan dares to dream of a fairer nation. He may have been called many names, Agwambo, Baba, Tinga, but to Kenya, he was simply the conscience of the republic.
History will remember him not as a man who failed to become president, but as one who made Kenya believe in democracy even when democracy failed him. He proved that leadership is not a title but a lifelong act of service. As the nation lowers his flag to half-mast and his body is laid to rest beside his ancestors, Kenya must lift his ideals higher than ever. The road he walked was long and often lonely, but it led the nation closer to justice.
Farewell, Raila Amollo Odinga, son of Kenya, servant of the people, soldier of democracy. Your journey ends, but your story endures. You carried our hope through storms, you gave voice to the voiceless, and you taught us that courage is not the absence of fear, but the will to keep walking. In your silence, Kenya hears the echo of your dream, still alive, still burning, still calling us forward.
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