MGHALA MUUE NA HAKI YAKE UMPE: Giving President Ruto His Due, Despite the Pain

By Fred Allan Nyankuru

In the midst of rising public frustration, economic discomfort, and increasing disillusionment with leadership, it is easy—and perhaps fashionable—to throw stones at President William Ruto’s administration. The discontent is understandable. Life is hard. Prices are high. Expectations remain unmet. But in the face of this dissatisfaction, we must pause, take a deep breath, and reflect more critically on the big picture. We must invoke a timeless Swahili wisdom: “Mghala muue na haki yake umpe”—if someone deserves blame, give it; but if they deserve credit, don’t deny them their due.

Ruto’s presidency has not been perfect—far from it. But imperfection is not the same as failure. In fact, when examined with the benefit of objectivity and context, his administration reflects the painful but necessary transition of a nation trying to correct the sins of its past while forging a more stable future. This journey, though uncomfortable, is one of national maturation. And Ruto has shown the resolve to walk the hard road—much like the founding fathers of the Asian Tigers—China, Singapore, South Korea, and Malaysia.

Let’s begin with the economy. When President Ruto inherited the reins from the Jubilee administration under President Uhuru Kenyatta, the nation was teetering under the weight of unsustainable debt, bloated subsidies, and a dangerously dependent culture. The public finances were in shambles, with debt repayments consuming the lion’s share of government revenues.

Ruto’s administration made the unpopular choice to cut consumption subsidies—not because he enjoyed seeing wananchi suffer, but because he recognized the fallacy of using borrowed money to subsidize consumption. Instead, he began redirecting resources toward production—particularly in agriculture, the backbone of Kenya’s economy. Fertilizer subsidies, revival of agricultural extension services, and the push for value addition are part of a long-term shift. Painful? Yes. Necessary? Absolutely. 

Economic indicators, while still fragile, show signs of recovery. The shilling has stabilized after historic lows, inflation is slowly coming under control, and government revenues are rising. These are not magical achievements—they are signs of disciplined economic stewardship in the face of adversity. 

Secondly, in the realm of education, a sector often sacrificed at the altar of political populism, Ruto’s administration has shown rare political courage. The reform of the Competency-Based Curriculum (CBC), once an unwieldy and confusing monster, has begun to take shape under his leadership. By streamlining its implementation and addressing gaps in teacher training and infrastructure, the system is slowly finding its footing. 

Furthermore, the decision to employ over 56,000 teachers in less than two years is not a small feat. This not only improves education quality but directly addresses youth unemployment—one of Kenya’s greatest ticking time bombs. Our universities, previously left to rot in financial decay, are also seeing a shift toward sustainable funding models and performance-based management, albeit gradually. 

Number three, the security apparatus in Kenya has long been broken—not because of lack of personnel, but due to systemic neglect and politicization. President Ruto’s approach, while annoyingly slow and admittedly minimal in tangible improvements, is a break from tokenism. The conversation has shifted toward better remuneration, housing, and mental health support for police officers. These are the building blocks of a better security service, not the kind of flashy, short-term fixes that dominate headlines.

He may not have delivered everything, but the foundation is being laid. And as anyone who has built anything worthwhile knows, foundations take the longest—and are the least appreciated—until the walls start to rise.

Four, the overhaul of Kenya’s healthcare system through the Social Health Authority (SHA) was initially met with hostility. Powerful forces that benefited from the inefficiencies and chaos of the National Hospital Insurance Fund (NHIF) waged a quiet war of sabotage. But the government, to its credit, stood firm. The new system, while still young, is already showing promise in widening access and reducing fraud. It is far from perfect, but it is a bold attempt to give Kenyans a more accountable and equitable health system.

Five, none of these reforms mean much if the elephant in the room —our young people remaining jobless —is not addressed. But here’s the paradox: fixing unemployment is not done through slogans or handouts. It is achieved by improving education, supporting agriculture, boosting local manufacturing, and fixing healthcare—all of which President Ruto is doing, albeit imperfectly. Solve these four, and you reduce unemployment by half. Not in two years. Not even in five. But certainly in the lifespan of a serious national development agenda.

Media Bias: The Real Enemy of Progress

The Kenyan media, once hailed as a pillar of democracy, has increasingly devolved into a tool of partisan manipulation. Many leading media houses are owned or controlled by individuals and cartels threatened by reform. Their profits were protected by the inefficiencies of the past—skewed tenders, opaque government deals, and cheap political headlines.

The narrative often peddled by sections of the Kenyan media, paints an utterly ominous picture. Driven by partisan agendas and vested interests, these outlets engage in a relentless campaign of disinformation and misinformation, portraying progress as failure and challenges as insurmountable obstacles. They perpetuate the fallacy that meaningful change should be swift and painless, ignoring the historical reality that enduring prosperity is forged through sustained effort and sacrifice. It is no surprise, that the media has become a megaphone of doom, amplifying failures, ignoring wins, and constantly demanding miracles. They have convinced the public that change should be instant, painless, and perfect. And when it’s not, they declare it a failure. This is not journalism. It is sabotage.

Let us not romanticize the pain Kenyans are going through. It is real. But let us also not allow that pain to blind us from truth. Leadership is not about making people feel good—it is about doing the hard things that secure a better future, even at great political cost.

Ruto has made mistakes—some avoidable, some understandable. He must be held accountable. But he must also be recognized for what he’s trying to do: to drag Kenya from the seductive ease of shortcuts to the hard, honest work of nation-building. That alone deserves our respect.

So yes, mghala muue na haki yake umpe. Criticize where it is due. But let us not withhold credit where it is earned—however inconvenient it may be for those whose profits depend on chaos.

Tribal Mobilization Is Not Statesmanship: Why Fred Matiang’i’s Return Rally Reveals More Than He Intended

By Fred Allan Nyankuru

Kenya is a nation at war with itself—not by guns or militias, but by something even more insidious: a deeply entrenched, deliberately nurtured culture of tribal politics. It’s the disease that eats away at our national unity, our electoral integrity, and our ability to rise beyond ethnic arithmetic and patronage.

In such a volatile and wounded space, a true national leader must walk with caution and conviction—committed not to their tribe, but to the republic.

And yet, when Dr Fred Matiang’i—former Interior Cabinet Secretary and now rumoured presidential hopeful—returned to the country to re-enter political life, where did he launch his comeback? —In Kisii. His tribal stronghold. His “home turf.”

This decision, though seemingly ordinary in Kenya’s political culture, was neither innocent nor inconsequential. It was a loud political statement—a revealing moment that showed the nation exactly how Matiang’i views himself and the presidency.

The Optics Matter—and in this case, they were terrible. For someone allegedly gunning for the highest office in the land, what could have been more nationally symbolic, more healing, and more strategic than launching his political resurgence in Nairobi—Kenya’s melting pot, its commercial and political heart? A rally at Uhuru Park, Kamukunji Grounds, or Nyayo Stadium would have said: “I am back, not just for my people, but for all people.”

Instead, Matiang’i chose a comfort zone. A cocoon of ethnic loyalty. A region where questions wouldn’t be asked, and where applause was guaranteed not because of ideas, but because of bloodlines. This is not national leadership. This is not progress. This is tribal mobilization dressed as political reawakening.

The dangerous continuation of tribal arithmetic is still alive. Kenya’s political class has long thrived on reducing leadership to tribal tokens. Every election cycle becomes a game of ethnic chess—who brings which “block,” who “delivers” their region, who commands loyalty not by merit but by surname. And yet we know where this has taken us —Post-election violence, Disenfranchised youth, Corrupt power-sharing arrangements, Development skewed by tribal loyalties, not national needs.

By choosing Kisii as his launchpad, Matiang’i reinforced the very disease we must urgently cure. He aligned himself with the politics of exclusion, of “our turn,” of “us versus them.” That is not leadership—it is regression. It raises a serious question: Does Matiang’i see himself as Kenyan first—or as Kisii first? If the latter is true, then his vision is too small for the great burden of the presidency.

This is missed Opportunity to Unite, Inspire, and Heal a wounded Nation reaching out for help. We must also ask: What kind of statement could he have made by doing things differently?

Had Matiang’i walked into Nairobi’s public square, with humility, courage, and a message of national unity, he would have begun to shed the heavy robes of his past—his role in enforced disappearances, brutality, and state repression. He would have demonstrated that he is willing to grow, to change, to lead differently.

But instead, he confirmed what many feared: he is a man of the system, by the system and for the system. A man whose instinct is to retreat to tribal cocoons, not reach out to a hurting, fragmented nation.

This development only adds another layer to the already troubling profile of Fred Matiang’i. His critics view him as a Puppet of Oligarchs—Not only is he backed by the same oligarchs who looted Kenya under Uhuru Kenyatta, not only did he preside over a brutal internal security regime, but now—he has willingly embraced tribalism as his campaign strategy. He is no effectively, a Servant of Tribalism.

He is not here to save Kenya. He is here to protect the interests of the old guard—wrapped in the flag of his ethnicity. A marionette for economic saboteurs. A mouthpiece for tribal brokers. We have seen this movie before—and it ends badly.

Compare this with a figure like former Chief Justice David Maraga, who though also Kisii by origin, has never wrapped himself in the ethnic flag. His judicial philosophy was Kenyan, not tribal. His fidelity was to the Constitution—not his village elders. That is what true leadership looks like.

What Kenya needs is a president who sees 47 counties as family—not as vote baskets. A president who addresses our ethnic wounds—not exploits them. A president who knows that healing begins with symbolic choices as much as policy reforms.

Fred Matiang’i’s decision to stage his political re-entry in Kisii was not just a strategy—it was a signal. A signal that he plans to follow the same old political playbook: ethnic math, elite endorsements, and authoritarian posture. A signal that he is not new wine—just old vinegar in a shiny bottle. We must not fall for it.

Let us demand more. Expect better. Vote wisely. Because Kenya cannot afford another tribalist in State House. Not after all we’ve been through. Not when we’re still bleeding from past mistakes. Not when we still have the option to choose principled, national-minded leaders like Maraga—leaders who speak softly, but walk straight.

This is our chance to break the curse of tribal kings and crooked puppets.

Let’s not blow it.

Not All Progress Is Forward: Why Electing Fred Matiang’i Would Be a Catastrophic Step Backward for Kenya

By Fred Allan

In politics, the word progress is often used like a charm—a spell meant to lull citizens into believing that any shift from the present status quo is inherently good. But this is a dangerous illusion. Not all progress is positive. Not every new direction is forward. And certainly, not every powerful man in a suit is a reformer.

As Kenyans grow increasingly disillusioned with President William Ruto’s administration—a feeling that is understandable given the economic hardships and perceived disconnect from the people—the temptation to embrace any alternative can be strong. But in that moment of vulnerability, we must pause and think critically.

Fred Matiang’i is not the progress Kenya needs. He is the political reincarnation of a past we should be trying to escape—not return to.

Firstly, Matiang’i has long been hailed by some as a “strong leader,” an “efficient administrator,” and a man of “decisive action.” But let us not be fooled: efficiency without accountability is tyranny; decisiveness without justice is repression. 

His tenure as Interior Cabinet Secretary was defined by brutality, impunity, and flagrant disregard for judicial authority. From enforced disappearances to the erosion of civil liberties, Matiang’i’s rule of the security docket was not strength—it was state-sanctioned fear.

We must ask; if this is the kind of leadership he exercised with limited executive power, what should we expect if he is handed the entire presidency? That is not a vision of progress. That is a prescription for authoritarianism.

Secondly any serious observer of Kenyan politics will quickly note that Fred Matiang’i’s bid for the presidency is not fuelled by a grassroots movement of reform or public empowerment. It is being engineered—quietly and meticulously—by the very oligarchs who have bled Kenya dry.

The same political families and economic elites who orchestrated the grand plunder under Uhuru Kenyatta’s administration now seek a comeback through a more disciplined frontman. Matiang’i is their marionette. Their voice will be his voice. Their interests will be his agenda.

What, then, is the point of replacing one president with another if the puppet-masters remain the same? It is like repainting a rusting car and calling it a new model. It is superficial. It is deceitful. It is not progress.

Thirdly, Kenya’s future demands not another strongman but a strong moral compass. This is where former Chief Justice David Kenani Maraga presents a truly progressive alternative. Unlike Matiang’i, Maraga is not burdened by the baggage of elite networks or past regimes. He is not a creature of the system. He is a defender of its reform.

As Chief Justice, Maraga made bold decisions—guided by the Constitution, not political convenience. He respected the rule of law, upheld judicial independence, and demonstrated the courage to nullify a presidential election for the first time in African history. That was not just a legal act. It was a moral stand. It was statesmanship.

Maraga’s leadership would be firm, but fair. principled, but not passive. Decisive, but just. It is precisely the balance Kenya so desperately needs—a leader who can stand strong against corruption and injustice without trampling the rights of the people in the process.

Fourthly, it is not enough to simply seek change. The nature of the change must matter. Matiang’i represents change in the form of polished authoritarianism—order without justice, efficiency without empathy, and loyalty to power over loyalty to the people.

Maraga, on the other hand, symbolizes real transformation—governance guided by truth, transparency, and the rule of law. If we are to break free from the cycle of elite capture and public suffering, then we must support leaders who answer to the people, not to plutocrats hiding behind party colours and polished manifestos.

Finally, Kenya has suffered long enough from poor decisions made in haste. We cannot afford to confuse noise for leadership, or a firm grip for a visionary hand. We must reject the illusion that any alternative is better. That kind of resignation is what has kept us in a cycle of disappointment and disillusionment.

This time, we must be wise. We must choose real progress—not recycled power, not fear in a new uniform, not the strong arm of the same old puppet show.

Let us be clear-eyed and courageous. Because history will not just remember what we suffered—it will remember who we elected despite knowing better.

Fred Matiang’i is not the future. He is the continuation of a shameful past. He is the smiling face of the same cabal that has long viewed Kenya as its playground.

David Maraga, though quieter, offers a principled alternative rooted in justice, discipline, and devotion to the public good. That is the leadership Kenya needs now. Let us not confuse motion with direction. Not all progress is forward. And not all power is good. Kenya must rise—not with a clenched fist, but with a clear conscience.