Skip to main content

Why Knowing Our Presidents Matters: A New Series on Kenya’s Leadership Legacy

Every five years, Kenyans line up to vote. Some do so out of hope, others out of habit, and many out of resignation. We listen to speeches, wear campaign colors, chant slogans — and yet, we often know so little about the people we hand our future to.

This isn’t just about ignorance. It’s about a missing culture of inquiry.

Many Kenyans can name the latest scandal, meme, or insult traded between politicians. But ask what shaped our presidents — their upbringing, education, ideologies, patterns of power — and we draw blanks. We know of them, but we don’t know them.

That’s not a small oversight. It’s a national vulnerability.

Why This Series Matters Now

We are in a crucial moment in Kenya’s story. The economy is fragile. Public trust is eroding. Youth unemployment is high. Tribal divisions linger. Corruption festers. And yet — the same types of leaders keep emerging.

Why?

Because we don’t truly scrutinize the roots of power. We focus on the surface: accents, slogans, tribe, party. But we rarely pause to ask: Where did this person come from? What systems shaped them? What have they consistently shown us across time?

This series is a response to that silence.

It’s a deep, human, political, and historical look into the five men who have held the most powerful office in Kenya — and the one man who came close again and again, shaping the political landscape from without.

What Our Cluelessness Costs Us

Our unwillingness to know our leaders deeply has consequences:

  • We mistake charisma for capacity.

  • We reward image over integrity.

  • We fail to connect past actions with present agendas.

  • We allow power to recycle itself through familiar faces and tactics.

And worst of all: we stop believing that better is possible. Cynicism creeps in. We lower our standards. We vote “the lesser evil” or not at all.

But information is power. And history is not just the past — it’s a tool for shaping the future.

A Glimpse Into the Series

Over the coming weeks, we will publish a six-part series covering each Kenyan president — and one man who may never sit in State House, but whose influence has been presidential in impact:

  1. Jomo Kenyatta: The Symbol and the System

  2. Daniel Arap Moi: The Quiet Strategist Who Outlasted Them All

  3. Mwai Kibaki: The Reluctant Reformer

  4. Uhuru Kenyatta: Inheritance and Image

  5. William Ruto: The Hustler and the House of Power

  6. Raila Odinga: The President Who Never Becomes

Each piece will be detailed, accessible, and grounded in facts — not gossip. We’ll trace the human story, the political machine, and the national consequences.

Because the truth is this: no president — or contender — arrives alone. They are shaped by families, tribes, institutions, ideologies, and histories. And unless we understand those forces, we will never understand what drives the choices made in State House — or in its long shadow.

A Call to Curiosity

This series is for every Kenyan who wants to stop feeling helpless. For every youth wondering why the system seems so broken. For every voter who wants to vote with clarity, not just hope. For every citizen who believes that Kenya deserves leadership it can trust — and that trust must be earned, not inherited.

We invite you to read, reflect, question, share. Let this be more than history — let it be civic awakening.

The age of information is here. Let’s use it.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Know Thyself: The Quiet Power of Naming Your Nature

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” — Carl Jung We live in a culture that equates good intentions with goodness, and ambition with ability. But very few people in Kenya—or anywhere—truly know what they are made of. We can name our qualifications and our dreams. But ask someone their vices or virtues, and they hesitate. Worse, they lie. The Danger of Self-Unawareness In Kenya today, many of us are wandering through life making choices—big, small, and irreversible—without truly understanding who we are. We end up in jobs we despise, relationships we shouldn’t be in, or positions of influence we aren’t emotionally or ethically equipped for. And at the root of this dysfunction is a simple truth: we don’t know ourselves. This is not a spiritual or abstract dilemma. It’s a deeply practical one. To know oneself is to understand your vices, your virtues, your weaknesses, and your strengths—not in a vague sense, but in detail. Let’s ge...

Not All Disabilities Are Visible

Some pain does not leave a mark. Some exhaustion does not show in the face. Some people are carrying weights that have no name, no diagnosis, and no outward sign. We are used to recognizing suffering only when it can be pointed to — a bandage, a crutch, a cast, a wound. Something we can see. But the human interior is its own world, and often, the heaviest struggles live there. The Quiet Work of Holding Yourself Together There are those who walk into a room smiling, contributing, present — and yet they are holding themselves together one breath at a time. Not because they are pretending, but because they have learned to live with what would overwhelm another person. Some battles are fought inside the mind: The slow grey of depression The relentless hum of anxiety The sudden, unbidden memory that takes the body back to a place it never wants to return The deep fatigue that sleep does not cure And yet, life continues. The world moves. The dishes still need to be wa...

The Loud Silence: Why Kenya Is Drowning in Noise—and What It's Costing Us

  “Beware the bareness of a busy life,” Socrates once said. But what about the loudness of a distracted one? From matatus blaring vulgar music, to church keshas echoing through residential estates, to restaurants where conversation is a fight against speakers—it seems Kenya has made noise the background of everyday life. But what is this obsession with sound? What is all this noise trying to drown out? Noise as Culture, But Also as Coping Let’s be clear: noise has always had a place in Kenyan culture. Luo benga, Kikuyu folk tunes, Luhya drumming, Swahili taarab… music and sound are part of celebration, spirituality, and storytelling. But what we’re experiencing now is different. What we’re hearing now is not cultural expression—it’s emotional avoidance. The Psychology of Noise: What Are We Running From? 1. Noise and Loneliness We live in a time of increasing isolation. Nairobi apartments are filled with single occupants. Friendships are transactional. Family members drift emo...