Grief, glory, chaos in the people's president's final homecoming

No one was prepared for this. The death of former Prime Minister Raila Amolo Odinga caught everyone by surprise. And his wish for 72-hour burial plans threw even the best laid strategies by top State and security organs into disarray. 

When the Kenya Airways plane carrying his remains touched down at the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport (JKIA) in Nairobi, the official script was quickly torn up. Raila was coming home, one last time. 

From the security breach at JKIA, to the surging crowds and ultimate suspension of the days programme, no script could fit Raila's reception back home on Thursday. State officials, including President William Ruto, the army and security top brass were quickly reduced to helpless bystanders.

In life, Raila Odinga was famed as the People's President, and on Thursday, under the scorching sun and distant roar of jet engines at JKIA, the people took charge of the programme. A man of the people was returning to his people.

The mood of the nation began to shift the moment news of Raila’s passing began to spread, and the subsequent official announcement by President William Ruto.

Kenya fell silent. Then, slowly, gave way to cries, songs, and chants. A country was mourning its most steadfast son.

It was history unrestrained. A country brought to a standstill.

Crowds surged forward, weeping, singing, some collapsing in grief, others waving flags, twigs, and portraits of Baba, as he was commonly referred to.

They breached the layers of airport security, defying orders and reason. They were only driven by love and the desire to see Raila, one last time.

At the airport, they forcefully entered the plane that ferried his remains from India, an incident never witnessed before seen at Kenya’s premier airport.

On the eve of the arrival of Raila's remains, Deputy President Kithure Kindiki, and the co-chair of the national burial committee, had outlined the funeral programme: the time of arrival, the route, public viewing, and the final farewell.

Everything was meant to move with military precision to fulfill Raila’s last wish, to be laid to rest within 72 hours of death.

But his people had it their way. They tore the script and replaced it with the messy, beautiful chaos of love.

They carried his memory not as mourners following a schedule, but as ‘children’ welcoming home a father who had walked through fire for them.

Raila’s people, in their thousands, transformed the airport, Nairobi’s major roads including Mombasa Road  and the Expressway, into mourning grounds; chanting and screaming. 

And unlike in his lifetime, Agwambo’s absence was loud. His void was palpable, a silence that no command, siren or microphone could fill.

One by one, government officials, politicians, Chief of Defense Forces, abandoned their futile attempts to contain the surging sea of mourners.

Raila was not there to speak to them, to stretch out his hand in that familiar calming gesture, to tame their passion with a word, a smile, or a raised palm.

Without him, the crowd became its own language: raw, unrestrained, and driven by love. They wanted to mourn him their way, uncontrolled, uncoordinated, as wild and genuine as the bond they shared with Baba.

For the first time, boda bodas in their numbers got, not just into the airport, but to the airside; hallowed security grounds. At the State Pavilion at the airport, consultations were intense as things got out of hand.

The unprecedented security breach forced the brief closure of Kenya’s airspace over JKIA.

“The closure will be in effect from 10.26am to 12.26pm. This essential measure is to facilitate an enhanced security rescreening operation following the arrival of the remains of the late Rt. Hon. Raila Odinga,” said Kenya Airports Authority (KAA) acting Managing Director Mohamud Gedi.

"The safety and security of our passengers, staff, and all airport users is our highest priority, and this action is part of our unwavering commitment to maintaining the highest security standards,” said Dr Gedi.

Passengers with flights scheduled during that period were asked to contact their airlines for flight statuses and potential adjustments to their travel itineraries.

For the first time, the death of a civilian occasioned an urgent meeting of the National Security Council chaired by the president, a testament to the weight of the man and the movement he left behind.

At the airport, even President Ruto and former President Uhuru Kenyatta could not accord last respects to Baba and the planned guard of honor by the military was called off.

Raila belonged to the people in life, and even in death and they would not let go.

For about six hours, the flight KQ203 that was carrying Raila’s remains made a world record as the most tracked flight worldwide, recording more than 10,000 trackers.

And when it entered Kenyan airspace, Kenya Airways changed the flight’s call sign from KQ203 to RAO001 in honour of the departed leader.

At touchdown at 9.33am, the KQ plane carrying Raila's body received a water salute as a final gesture of honour for a towering statesman.

The water salute is a preserve of marking special events such as the retirement of senior pilots, the launch of a new route or new aircraft, the final flight of an aircraft, or the arrival of a distinguished figure.

On the day the delegation departed to receive the remains of Kenya’s father of democracy, even the skies seemed to hold their breath.

Passengers aboard the flight expected the usual pre-takeoff routine on safety instructions, flight duration, weather updates.

But what came through the speakers was different, deeply human. The pilot’s voice, steady with emotion, broke tradition. Instead of a standard briefing, he offered a heartfelt tribute full of reverence.

He spoke not just as a professional at the helm of an aircraft, but as a Kenyan mourning a legend, Raila Amolo Odinga, the Pan-Africanist who always aspired to see a prosperous, united and a great Africa.

“Our thoughts go out to (the) Odinga’s family; Mama Ida Odinga, his friends, his supporters and all Kenyans during this difficult time. We honour and celebrate his legacy as a leader we will always hold a special place in our hearts. May his soul of Rt Hon Raila Amolo Odinga rest in eternal peace,” the pilot mourned.

In India, moments after the delegate arrived, Winnie Odinga, Raila’s fourth child, cradled her father’s signature panama hat, that timeless symbol of his boldness and dignity, and gently placed it atop the flag-draped coffin bearing his remains.

It was a moment suspended between love and loss, a daughter’s farewell to a father who had belonged to both family and nation.

At the JKIA State Pavilion, her mother sat quietly, clutching the same panama hat in hands as though it were the last bridge between presence and absence.

Her eyes, fixed on it, seemed to search for him still, while tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Then, in one tender sight at the airport, Winnie squatted before her.

A mother and daughter bound by grief, both holding onto that hat. It was more than cloth and leather now; it was a relic of love, resilience, and the memory of a man who had carried them, and Kenya in his heart all his life.

Initially, the body was to arrive at Lee Funeral Home around 10am, then a State House procession from noon and to Parliament Buildings for public viewing between 2-5 p.m., before a State Funeral at Nyayo Stadium on Friday.

Everything, on paper, seemed orderly. But as the day unfolded, plans gave way to emotion.

For more than four hours, crowds remained stranded at the airport as the multitude of mourners made movement nearly impossible.

When the convoy finally departed, the plans shifted. The body was taken straight to Moi International Sports Centre, Kasarani, arriving at around 2:30 p.m. after a slow procession wound its way from Mombasa Road through Thika Road.

Drums thundered, twigs swayed in the air, whistles pierced the sky, songs of praise and grief drowned the wails, carrying the story of a people mourning their hero.

"Baba biro, yaw ne yoo (Baba is coming, pave the way for him)…Onge ng'ato ma Baba osenego (Baba killed no one)," they chanted.

Moving slowly, the convoy would have taken hours to reach the Kasarani stadium. A helicopter hovering just above them, ostensibly meant for quick evacuation, charged, hastening their pace.

People lined along the route, waving in a show of escorting their leader home the only way they knew.

Those who could not travel to Nairobi mourned Raila in their own way. In towns and villages across the country, candles were lit, prayers were held and there were processions in the streets. They mourned him as they had loved him- openly, passionately, and together.

But even in death, the chaos that Raila often sought to calm in life found its way into his farewell. At Kasarani Stadium, where thousands had gathered to pay their last respects, grief turned to turmoil.

What was meant to be a solemn ceremony turned into mayhem, and four lives were lost.

National Youth Service officers formed a human shield around those who had been killed, as mourners dispersed from the stadium after police lobbed tear gas canisters. It was a heartbreak that deepened an already unbearable day.

Eventually, the casket, bearing Raila’s remains, draped in the Kenyan flag, was brought into the stadium and lay in state.