Why Matiang’i and the United Opposition Are Not Ready for Ruto

By Fred Allan Nyankuru

Kenyans are emotional people, and rightly so. Politics here is not just about policies; it is about survival, bread, rent, school fees, and dignity. So every election cycle, when the economy bites and pressure rises, we naturally start looking for an alternative. We ask ourselves: Who can do it better? Who can remove the sitting president?

That question is now being asked about Fred Matiang’i and the so-called United Opposition. But if we are honest with ourselves —brutally honest, the kind of honesty you only hear late at night when politics is put aside, we must admit something uncomfortable:

At the moment, they don’t have what it takes to unseat William Ruto. Not because Ruto is perfect. Not because Kenyans are not hurting. But because Ruto is a political titan, and titans are not removed by noise, anger, or nostalgia. You don’t rock a ship by blowing wind into the sea using your mouth.

Ruto understands power deeply. He is not learning on the job. He is not guessing. He is not improvising. This is a man who has lived inside power for decades —KANU, ODM, URP, Jubilee, UDA. He has seen governments rise and fall from the inside. He knows where loyalty is built, where it breaks, and where it must be bought with policy rather than promises.

You may disagree with his style. You may dislike his politics. But you cannot deny this truth: Ruto understands how Kenya works —politically, economically, and psychologically. And that matters. Many opposition figures talk at Kenyans. Ruto talks to Kenyans, especially those at the bottom.

Yes, the economy is tight. Yes, taxes have gone up. Yes, Kenyans are feeling squeezed. But politics is not judged only by pain; it is judged by direction. And this is where the opposition is struggling.

Ruto has anchored his presidency on tangible, visible projects —things people can see, touch, and argue about: Affordable housing projects across counties, Digital jobs and overseas labour programs, Hustler Fund and SME financing, Infrastructure continuity, Agricultural input reforms.

You may argue about effectiveness. You may question sustainability. But you cannot say nothing is happening. In Kenyan politics, visibility beats theory every time. A house half-built speaks louder than ten press conferences.

Fred Matiang’i is competent. No serious Kenyan disputes that. He is disciplined. He is firm. He delivers. But Kenyan politics is not a performance appraisal. Competence alone does not win elections. You must connect emotionally. You must build a coalition patiently. You must survive insults, betrayal, tribal arithmetic, church politics, youth anger, and elite suspicion, all at once. Ruto has done this for years.

Matiang’i, so far, appears like a man being introduced to politics, not one who has lived in its trenches. And Kenyans, especially voters, can sense that.

Let’s be frank. What exactly unites this opposition? Is it ideology? Not clear. Is it economic philosophy? Not articulated. Is it leadership structure? Confused. Is it a single message? Fragmented. Right now, it feels more like shared frustration than shared vision. Kenyans have seen this movie before.

A coalition built mainly on removing someone rarely survives the election —let alone wins it. Ruto’s camp, on the other hand, knows exactly what story it is telling: Hustler vs dynasty, Bottom-up economics, Inclusion through enterprise. Whether you agree or not, the story is clear. The opposition is still arguing about the title of the book.

Ruto is not just President, he is politically grounded. One thing many analysts underestimate is this: Ruto is comfortable among ordinary people. Markets. Churches. Fundraisers. Youth forums. He thrives there. He speaks their language —not perfect English, not academic jargon, but the language of struggle, effort, and faith. In Kenya, that matters more than polished policy papers. You cannot defeat such a politician by appearing distant, technocratic, or elite —even if you are competent.

Noise Is Not Momentum. Social media outrage is loud. Press conferences are dramatic. Political rallies are exciting. But, elections are won by ground networks, trusted messengers, consistent presence, and clear alternatives. Right now, the opposition is making noise, not momentum. And Ruto, quietly and steadily, is building momentum —not noise.

This is the thing; Titans all, but not easily. History teaches us that no leader is unbeatable forever. But titans fall only when the alternative is clear, the vision is believable, the leadership feels ready, and the people feel understood.

At the moment, Fred Matiang’i and the United Opposition are not there yet. They may get there. They may grow. They may organize better. But today as things stand, William Ruto’s ship is not sinking. And you don’t rock such a ship by shouting into the wind and hoping the sea will listen.

Kenya respects strength. Kenya respects resilience. Kenya respects preparation. And, until the opposition matches that —not with anger, but with strategy, Ruto remains not just president, but the dominant political force of his time.

And that is the hard Kenyan truth.

IF RAILA THE ENIGMA WAS THE PHOENIX, RUTO THE FOX IS THE NINE-LIVED CAT:— Two Parallels, Two Journeys, One Nation’s Story

By Fred Allan Nyankuru

Kenya has always explained its politics through metaphor. It is how we make sense of the extraordinary figures who walk our national stage. Now, as the country reflects on the life and legacy of the late Raila Amolo Odinga, the imagery becomes even more poignant. If Raila, the enigma, was the phoenix who rose again and again from political trials, then William Ruto, the fox, is the nine-lived cat who has survived and adapted through every storm.

These metaphors do not diminish either man. They highlight two powerful and distinct strengths that Kenya has produced. Raila and Ruto represent parallel narratives that, together, reveal the depth of Kenya’s political character: a blend of idealism and pragmatism, conviction and adaptability, sacrifice and survival.

The Phoenix Remembered: Raila Odinga and the Enduring Spirit of Reform

Raila’s passing has left the nation in a reflective mood, contemplating a life that shaped Kenya’s democratic identity. Born into privilege but choosing the difficult path of opposition, he became a symbol of resilience and courage. He endured detention, political exclusion, and repeated electoral heartbreak yet he never abandoned the cause of a more just nation.

It is no accident that Raila was often compared to a phoenix. Even in defeat, he returned with renewed energy and purpose. His voice was never merely personal; it echoed the frustrations, hopes, and dreams of millions. Through Raila’s persistence, Kenya won multiparty democracy, constitutional reform, and a political culture more willing to question power.

Now that he is gone, Kenyans see more clearly what he represented; moral compass; reminder that nations rise when citizens refuse to surrender their ideals; a belief that justice is not a luxury but a duty. Raila embodied the Kenya that dreams the Kenya that believes in finishing the work of freedom.

The Nine-Lived Cat: William Ruto and the Relentless Instinct for Survival

While Raila’s path was marked by public sacrifice, William Ruto’s journey reflects another powerful Kenyan reality: the fierce battle for opportunity in a world that rarely hands it out. Ruto was not born into power. His rise is a story familiar to millions a journey from scarcity to influence, from the margins to the centre. His climb through the ranks of KANU politics, his resilience in the face of crises, and his uncanny ability to survive political challenges have earned him the reputation of a leader with many lives.

Where Raila is remembered for moral conviction, Ruto is known for strategic brilliance. His instincts are sharp, his adaptability remarkable. He understands the machinery of power and knows how to navigate its contradictions.

The “nine-lived cat” metaphor is not a slight; it is recognition of his unique political intelligence. Ruto represents the Kenya that hustles, that observes carefully, that manoeuvres wisely, that refuses to remain where it began. He embodies the Kenya that survives— and wins in spite of the odds.

Two Parallels, One National Identity

Though their lives followed different paths, Raila and Ruto are not contradictions. They are complements— two different expressions of Kenya’s potential. Raila called the nation toward its ideals; Ruto calls the nation toward its possibilities.

The phoenix and the nine-lived cat represent the two forces that have always shaped Kenya: principle and pragmatism, vision and strategy, reform and resilience. No nation thrives on ideals alone. No nation survives on strategy alone. Kenya needed and still needs both.

Why Their Dual Legacy Strengthens Kenya

Together, Raila and Ruto reveal Kenya’s complexity and power. Raila’s legacy teaches courage: the willingness to rise for justice regardless of the cost. Ruto’s journey teaches determination: the ability to turn humble beginnings into national leadership. They show that Kenya is capable of producing: dreamers and tacticians, reformers and survivors, visionaries and doers.

A healthy democracy requires each of these qualities. Raila broadened the nation’s imagination; Ruto proved that the nation’s possibilities are not reserved for the privileged. Their coexistence in life and legacy reminds Kenya that progress is not linear. It is a dialogue between conviction and adaptability.

With Raila’s passing, Kenya mourns not only a leader but a symbol— a phoenix whose flame illuminated the path of reform. However, the nation continues to move forward with leaders like Ruto, whose resilience demonstrates that the impossible can be achieved through grit and determination.

The truth is simple: Kenya is richer because it has produced both types of leaders. Raila gave the nation courage to rise. Ruto gives the nation the resilience to survive. Together, they form a narrative larger than politics; a story of a country defined by endurance, ambition, hope, innovation, sacrifice, and survival.

If Raila the enigma was the phoenix, and Ruto the fox is the nine-lived cat, then Kenya is the remarkable land that nurtured both. And that is perhaps the greatest testament to the nation’s strength.

Polygamy, Principle, and Christian Practice: Rethinking a Long-Held Assumption

 By Fred Allan Nyankuru

Within many Christian communities today, the phrase “one man, one woman” carries the weight of unquestioned truth. It is treated not merely as a recommendation for order and peace, but as a moral commandment whose violation is branded sinful. Yet when examined with calm honesty and deeper theological reflection, this principle struggles to hold up without contradictions. In fact, the tensions it creates, especially in real-life situations, suggest that the stance is grounded more in cultural preference than in divine prohibition.

This is not an attempt to romanticize polygamy, nor to deny the genuine challenges it brings. It is, instead, a call to be frank with Scripture, consistent with logic, compassionate toward people, and humble about where God has spoken clearly and where we may have spoken for Him.

The Conversion Dilemma: A Principle That Buckles Under Its Own Weight

Let us begin with a simple but revealing scenario: A man lives as many men in various cultures have lived for centuries: he has more than one wife. With time, he encounters the gospel message and accepts Christ. Now, according to some Christian teachings, polygamy is inherently sinful —yet these same teachers quickly add that this man should not dismiss or abandon any of his wives, but must continue caring for each one faithfully.

This creates an immediate theological paradox: If polygamy is sin, and salvation calls one out of sin, why then is the newly converted man encouraged to continue in what is labelled sinful?

To force him to keep only one wife through divorce would also contradict Scripture, which condemns the unjust dismissal of a spouse. So the church, in attempting to preserve one principle, violates another —revealing the fragility of the monogamy-only doctrine.

This awkward compromise is not based on Scripture’s clarity but on the discomfort of applying a man-made rule consistently. When a principle collapses under real-life scrutiny, we must question whether it was grounded in divine truth or human attitude.

What Exactly Does Scripture Condemn?

Throughout the Bible, many revered figures had multiple wives; Abraham, Jacob, David, Solomon, and others. While their polygamy sometimes generated household conflict, Scripture does not once classify the practice itself as sin. On matters where God disapproves, the Bible is rarely silent.

Moreover, The Old Testament regulates polygamy (Exodus 21, Deuteronomy 21). God gives rights and protections to multiple wives. Nowhere does Scripture equate polygamy with sexual immorality or rebellion against God.

If God considered polygamy inherently sinful, would He provide laws to safeguard those marriages instead of commanding their dissolution? Would He bless people, kings, and patriarchs who lived within polygamous unions? Would He even describe Himself metaphorically as a husband to two sisters —Judah and Israel —when warning about their unfaithfulness (Ezekiel 23)? The evidence, taken honestly, points in one direction: polygamy is not inherently identified as sin in the Scriptures.

Why Then Does the New Testament Emphasize “Husband of One Wife”?

The New Testament requirement for church leaders—“the husband of one wife”—is often taken as universal proof that polygamy is sinful. But the logic does not hold.

When Scripture says an overseer, elder, or bishop should be the husband of one wife (1 Timothy 3:2), it does not declare that all other men must be. If that were the case, then every other trait listed —sobriety, hospitality, being apt to teach —would also be required of every Christian, or else they would be sinful too. Leadership standards are just that: leadership standards. Higher responsibility, higher expectations.

If the intention was to declare polygamy sinful for all, the apostles would simply have said so. Instead, they set a specific standard for leaders while leaving ordinary believers free of that restriction, consistent with the Old Testament’s own posture.

The implication is simple yet powerful: If polygamy were sin, church leaders would not merely be discouraged from it; they would be forbidden from it because sin disqualifies a person from church leadership altogether. The instruction for leaders, therefore, confirms the innocence of polygamy for others, not its condemnation.

Cultural Discomfort Is Not Divine Command

Much of contemporary Christianity’s rejection of polygamy stems not from Scripture, but from cultural evolution. Western societies transitioned toward monogamy for social, economic, and political reasons. As Christianity spread, these cultural values were baptized as Christian doctrine. But culture, no matter how long practised, cannot replace divine truth.

The discomfort some believers feel toward polygamy is understandable. It is complex. It can strain emotions, finances, and family peace. But difficulty does not equal sin. Debt is difficult too. Parenting is difficult. Marriage itself is profoundly difficult.

Christian teaching should empower individuals to make wise choices, not falsely condemn what Scripture allows simply because it challenges modern sensibilities.

The Wise Middle Ground: Not Promoting Polygamy, but Not Mislabelling It Either

Recognizing that polygamy is not inherently sinful does not mean encouraging it blindly. On the contrary, polygamous households require maturity, financial stability, emotional intelligence, and a sense of fairness that not every man possesses.

It is perfectly acceptable —and pastoral, to discourage polygamy due to the potential chaos it may bring. Many biblical stories reflect these challenges. But discouraging something for practical reasons is not the same as condemning it morally.

A truthful, balanced Christian view should say: Polygamy is allowed in Scripture. But it comes with challenges. It is not ideal for everyone. But it is not sin.

This approach is not only more consistent with Scripture; it is also more compassionate and culturally relevant for communities where polygamy remains a lived reality.

A Principle That Requires Compromise Is Not a Principle of Truth

Returning to the initial dilemma, any principle that requires bending, adjusting, and explaining away when confronted with real human situations is suspect. God’s principles —love, justice, humility, mercy —hold firm in every context.

But the “one man, one woman is the only God-approved marriage” idea crumbles the moment a polygamous man becomes a Christian. It forces believers to juggle divorce ethics, pastoral compromise, and biblical inconsistencies —all evidence that its foundation is human, not divine.

A truth that must be rescued by exceptions is not truth.

Honesty, Compassion, and Scripture Above Tradition: The Christian faith calls us not only to believe, but to think —deeply, honestly, and humbly. When we do so, the monogamy-only doctrine reveals itself not as a timeless biblical command but as an inherited cultural preference dressed in theological language.

Polygamy may not be advisable for many, but it is not a sin. It may be wise to discourage it, but not to demonize it.

In the end, the most faithful Christian posture is one that respects Scripture more than tradition, recognizes complexity without condemnation, values people over cultural comfort, and embraces truth even when it challenges long-held assumptions.

If God did not label polygamy sinful, it is not the role of His people to do so.

Raila Amolo Odinga: The Colossus Who Shaped Kenya’s Political Soul

By Fred Nyankuru

When the news of Raila Amolo Odinga’s passing broke, a heavy silence fell over the nation —the kind that swallows even the loudest of political slogans. It wasn’t merely the death of a man. It was the closing of a political chapter that has, for more than half a century, defined Kenya’s struggle for democracy, justice, and reform. Whether you adored him or opposed him, you could not ignore him. Raila Odinga was, in every sense, an enigma; one whose shadow loomed large over Kenya’s political landscape for decades.

I confess, I never voted for him. I often disagreed with his approach, his rhetoric, and sometimes his methods. Yet, in the stillness of reflection, one cannot deny that Raila Odinga was a good soldier —perhaps the best Kenya has ever had in the long, winding battle for the country’s democratic soul. He may not have worn the crown of the presidency, but his fingerprints are on every milestone Kenya has achieved since the reintroduction of multi-party politics.

Born into the family of Kenya’s first Vice President, Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, Raila’s life was steeped in politics from the cradle. Yet his journey was anything but privileged. He bore the brunt of state persecution, detention without trial, and political betrayal. He was imprisoned, exiled, and vilified; but never broken. Few men have walked through the furnace of oppression and emerged with such unrelenting resolve to continue fighting for those who wronged them.

It was Raila’s resilience during the ‘dark days’ of the Moi regime that earned him a mythical reputation. When others compromised, he resisted. When others fled, he stood his ground. When others whispered, he roared. The reforms that gave Kenya the 2010 Constitution, the liberalisation of political space, and the strengthening of civil liberties all bear his indelible mark.

Raila Odinga’s political journey was a paradox of victory and defeat. He was the perennial presidential contender, always close enough to power to taste it, but never quite able to hold it. Yet, in defeat, he was never vanquished. His capacity to rise from political ashes time and again is a testament to his remarkable stamina and belief in Kenya’s democratic promise.

From his legendary 2002 “Kibaki Tosha” declaration, which helped end KANU’s four-decade rule, to the Orange Democratic Movement’s (ODM) pivotal role in 2007 and beyond, Raila was the fulcrum of Kenya’s political movements. He inspired loyalty and stirred emotion in a way no other politician could. To his supporters, he was “Baba,” a father figure, a liberator, a messiah of the downtrodden. To his detractors, he was a master tactician of chaos and contradiction.

His political genius lay not in holding office but in shaping power itself. Every administration since the early 2000s —Kibaki, Uhuru, and Ruto —was defined in part by how it aligned with or against Raila Odinga. In many ways, Raila was the conscience of the Republic, always prodding the system, challenging the establishment, and forcing the nation to ask uncomfortable questions about justice, equality, and governance.

But Raila was also human; flawed, ambitious, and sometimes undone by his own miscalculations. His leadership style within ODM was often criticised as authoritarian, and his alliances sometimes appeared opportunistic. He could unite the country around great causes but also polarise it with his fiery rhetoric. His faith in the ballot was both noble and naïve —he believed in the will of the people even when the system seemed rigged against him.

The “Handshake” with President Uhuru Kenyatta in 2018 remains one of the most controversial chapters of his career. To some, it was a patriotic act that brought peace and stability after a divisive election. To others, it was a betrayal; a soft landing that diluted the opposition and legitimised those he had long accused of electoral theft. It was Raila’s greatest gamble, and perhaps, his greatest contradiction.

In the end, history will judge Raila Amolo Odinga not by the elections he lost, but by the ideals he refused to surrender. He fought for a Kenya that was freer, fairer, and more inclusive and though that Kenya remains a work in progress, it exists because of him. He taught us that patriotism sometimes means standing alone. That defeat does not mean failure. That one can lose politically but win morally. His was a life of struggle, sacrifice, and stubborn hope.

Raila Odinga never became president, but he was more than that. He was the heartbeat of Kenyan politics, the man who made every regime nervous, every youth dream, and every citizen question the meaning of freedom. His journey was not perfect, but it was profoundly human.

As Kenya mourns the passing of the enigma, the nation must rise above partisan lines to say, truthfully and without hesitation: Raila Amolo Odinga was a giant and the story of modern Kenya cannot be told without him.

Rest well, Baba. You fought the good fight. You ran your race. And in your own way, you won.

Fare thee well, Jakom!

You Don’t Silence a Voice by Violence

Fred Allan Nyankuru

When I first heard that Charlie Kirk had been gunned down at a Turning Point USA event, my heart broke. I may not be an American, but from far away I counted myself among his listeners, his readers, and his students in the fight for truth.

The man who killed Charlie thought he was ending a voice he didn’t like. But violence never achieves that. If anything, it does the opposite. In death, Charlie Kirk has become louder than ever.

Charlie was more than an American commentator. For people like me, watching from outside the United States, he represented courage in defending faith, family, and freedom. His unapologetic way of speaking truth drew in millions across borders. He gave Christians, conservatives, and ordinary people who still believe in common sense the courage to stand up.

The shooter may have believed he was silencing an irritant. But in reality, he has given birth to something stronger: conviction. Today, conservative Christians and free-speech advocates are more determined than ever that Charlie’s work must continue —this time more courageously, more viciously against lies, and with deeper faith.

Scripture tells us: “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much fruit” (John 12:24). That is what has happened. Charlie’s voice has not been buried; it has been multiplied in the hearts of those he inspired, including people like me who live oceans away.

History bears witness to this truth. When Abraham Lincoln was shot, democracy itself was strengthened. When Martin Luther King Jr. Was assassinated, the civil rights movement marched on with renewed fire. Violence has never destroyed an idea rooted in truth. It only immortalizes it.

That is the paradox the radical who killed Charlie cannot escape. He thought he had won. Instead, he has raised up an army of voices that will never be silenced.

This tragedy also carries a warning. If debate is replaced by violence, society collapses. The greatness of America, and of any free nation, is the ability to argue fiercely without resorting to bloodshed. If you disagree with Charlie Kirk, or with any voice, the answer is not a gun. The answer is argument. Logic. Evidence. Persuasion.

As someone outside America, I admired Charlie not just because of his politics but because of his faith. He was unashamed of his belief in God, and unashamed of proclaiming that faith should shape public life. For Christians everywhere, he modelled boldness in a world that too often pressures us into silence. His passing has left a wound, but also a calling —to stand stronger, speak louder, and to never cower before hostility.

The truth is this: the shooter silenced a man, but he did not silence the mission. Charlie Kirk’s work will live on in every believer who shares his convictions. It will live on in the millions who will carry forward his ideas. And it will live on in those of us far beyond America, who saw in him a champion of both truth and freedom.

You do not silence a voice by violence. You only make sure that voice echoes without end.

Matiang’i Isn’t a Comeback; It’s a Hostage Situation. Kenyans Must Say No.

By Fred Nyankuru

Let’s not be fooled. The political whispers are getting louder, and they should send a chill down the spine of every Kenyan who cares about this country’s future. The news that former President Uhuru Kenyatta is preparing to hand over the Jubilee Party to Fred Matiang’i isn’t a simple power transfer. It’s a brazen attempt to repackage the past and sell it to us as something new.

This confirms a truth many of us have felt in our bones for months: Matiang’i is not the reformer he’s painted to be. He is a meticulously crafted project, a Trojan horse built and polished by the very elite who have held our nation hostage for decades.

Think about it. Uhuru Kenyatta is the undeniable face of Kenya’s oligarchy —the system that hollowed out our economy, buried us under a mountain of debt, and made “state capture” a household term. And now, he wants to gift-wrap his entire political machine and hand it to his former enforcer. This isn’t a partnership; it’s a master passing the keys of his impunity-mobile to his most trusted driver.

Let’s be clear about Matiang’i’s record. As Interior CS, he wasn’t just a civil servant; he was the iron fist of the Jubilee regime. He was the architect of brutal crackdowns, the man who treated court orders as mere suggestions, and the engineer of a pervasive culture of fear. When the state needed to silence dissent, it was Matiang’i who was sent to do the dirty work.

Now, the same people who benefited from that system are spending fortunes on PR firms to scrub his image. They want us to see a “stern, no-nonsense reformer.” But we remember the reality. Behind that stern face is a man bound by loyalty to the cartels and dynasties that thrived under his watch. This isn’t a new chapter; it’s the same old book with a flashy new cover.

Make no mistake, this goes far beyond the crumbling walls of the Jubilee Party. Whether Matiang’i takes over Jubilee or is parachuted into another vehicle is irrelevant. The real danger is the man himself and the powerful, shadowy network he answers to.

This move is the oligarchy’s declaration to the nation: “We are not done with you. We will regroup, we will rebrand, and we are coming back through this man.”

If we fall for it, if we shrug and say “politics as usual,” then we have learned absolutely nothing from the pain and frustration of the last decade.

Kenya deserves Leaders, not Lords. Kenya is screaming for real leadership, not another strongman draped in the language of reform. We are tired of leaders who see our institutions as their personal toys and the constitution as a hurdle to be bypassed. What we desperately need is sober, principled, and accountable leadership. We need leaders who wake up thinking about how to serve the people, not how to please the cartels that have sucked this nation dry.

That’s why stopping this project is more urgent than blindly rallying behind any alternative. Matiang’i represents the continuation of the very rot Kenyans thought they had voted out in 2022. He is the past, desperately trying to rent a room in our future.

Fred Matiang’i is not the future. He is the oligarchy’s insurance policy. Their Plan B. Their wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Kenya must reject this cynical project with the same fierce determination we have mustered against impunity before. To allow him to march into State House under any party banner isn’t progress. It’s a national suicide mission, written, produced, and directed by the same forces that brought us to the brink. We owe our children more than that. We must say no.

Rigathi’s Loose Tongue: Why Kenya Cannot Entrust Its Future to a Reckless Politician

By Fred Nyankuru

Kenya is in a season of political turbulence. Discontent with President William Ruto’s administration is palpable; high cost of living, broken promises, and a disillusioned citizenry have created fertile ground for opposition politics. In this climate of anger, Rigathi Gachagua has emerged as a loud, self-styled critic of the very government he served. But make no mistake: behind his noise lies not statesmanship, but a grave danger.

Rigathi’s rise as the “alternative” voice to Ruto is not built on vision, reform, or a credible plan for the nation. It is built on tantrums, tribal entitlement, and above all, reckless talk. His loose tongue, once dismissed as mere bluster, is fast becoming a national security concern, and the opposition must recognise the peril of entertaining him as a potential leader.

Rigathi has repeatedly hinted that he could expose “government secrets” from his time in office. He frames this as a form of honesty or bravery. But let us be clear: threatening to spill confidential state information is neither noble nor courageous. It is irresponsible, stupid, and dangerous.

A man who has sworn an oath of secrecy while holding high office remains bound to that oath for life. The logic is simple: governments may change, but the security of the nation does not. Military operations, intelligence networks, and investigative strategies are not toys to be tossed around in political quarrels. They are the backbone of Kenya’s sovereignty.

When Rigathi threatens to reveal what was discussed in Cabinet, he crosses a line. Today it may be Cabinet gossip, but tomorrow, by the same reckless impulse, he could reveal matters relating to counterterrorism, border security, or intelligence-sharing with allies. In a world where regional stability is fragile and terrorism remains a real threat, such loose talk is not mere politics. It is a direct assault on national security.

Some will argue that exposing government wrongdoing is part of accountability. And they are right —when it comes to corruption, human rights abuses, or state-sanctioned injustice, leaders have a moral duty to speak up. Whistle-blowing is an act of courage that strengthens democracy.

But Rigathi is no whistle-blower. He is not exposing theft of public money, nor is he unveiling systemic oppression. His rants are not about protecting citizens; they are about protecting his ego. His threats to reveal secrets are blackmail tactics designed to intimidate both his political opponents and his former allies. That is not accountability. That is recklessness.

And therein lies the danger. A man who weaponises confidential information for personal vendetta today will do the same tomorrow. If Rigathi cannot keep the secrets of a government he has just served, what confidence should Kenyans have that he will protect the confidentiality of any future government? If he can threaten the security of one administration because he feels side-lined, he will do the same when the next administration crosses him.

Opposition leaders such as Kalonzo Musyoka, Fred Matiang’i, Martha Karua, and others must confront this uncomfortable truth: Rigathi is not a partner; he is a liability.

The very thought that a man who cannot keep secrets might one day sit at the centre of an opposition coalition should alarm them. Politics requires trust, even among rivals. If Rigathi is willing to leak Cabinet discussions today, what stops him from exposing coalition strategies tomorrow? What stops him from betraying confidential negotiations with foreign partners?

Aligning with Rigathi is like storing fuel next to a fire and hoping it never ignites. It is political suicide dressed as political strategy.

The stakes go beyond opposition politics. At the heart of the matter is the sovereignty of Kenya itself. Loose talk in the hands of a senior leader is not harmless —it has ripple effects that can destabilise institutions, compromise intelligence-sharing with allies, and embolden external threats.

Kenya’s fight against terrorism, organised crime, and regional instability depends on trust —trust within its institutions and trust with foreign partners. If leaders like Rigathi normalise the careless handling of secrets, that trust erodes. Once trust is gone, intelligence dries up, coordination weakens, and the entire country becomes vulnerable. The sovereignty of Kenya cannot be reduced to the whims of a politician’s tantrums.

This is not new behaviour for Rigathi. His political career has been marked by loud, unfiltered statements, often tribal, sometimes abusive, and nearly always divisive. What once seemed like political flavour is now revealing itself as a dangerous incapacity for discipline.

Consider his frequent remarks about government appointments, openly framing them in terms of tribal entitlement. Consider his casual attacks on institutions that demand respect and restraint. Each of these may have been dismissed as “Riggy G being Riggy G.” But add them up, and a pattern emerges: this is a man who cannot control his tongue. And a man who cannot control his tongue cannot be trusted with the instruments of power.

Kenyans must resist the temptation to see Rigathi as a saviour simply because they are angry with President Ruto. The enemy of your enemy is not always your friend. Rigathi does not represent reform, justice, or accountability, he represents a more dangerous mutation of the same rot.

If Ruto has failed through arrogance and broken promises, Rigathi would fail through recklessness and insecurity. One undermines the economy; the other undermines sovereignty. Neither offers the vision Kenya desperately needs.

What Kenya requires now is not another tribal strongman or a loose-tongued opportunist. It requires leaders who understand the gravity of their oath, the sanctity of state secrecy, and the discipline to put country above self.

Politics is not just about speaking loudly. True leadership is about knowing when not to speak, when silence protects lives, institutions, and the nation itself. Rigathi Gachagua has proven, time and again, that he lacks that restraint.

Opposition leaders must keep him at arm’s length, lest they become hostages to his recklessness. And Kenyans must reject the illusion that volume equals vision. A man who cannot control his mouth cannot control a country.

Rigathi is not the future. He is a threat to it.