Not all trees are equal: Raila Odinga's irrefutable legacy

In a forest of many trees, some are grander, and some lesser. Some trees, when they fall, fall with such might, that their sound cannot be unheard. All trees are surely profitable, but not all trees are equal. In Kenya, a great oak has fallen. The ecosystem has been disturbed. Our fragile branches of peace laid bare like an open canopy. Cut down by the swooping, unforgiving blade of time. And now that the great tree has fallen, where shall the birds perch? Who, will speak out for the powerless, the marginalised, the unfortunate and the historically sidelined? Will there grow another tree to cover all who seek its shade, indiscriminately? Who shall roar on our behalf, with righteous indignation, now that a great lion has rested? And will there emerge another lion, bold as the one we have known before, if not more?  

In this long solemn night of our democratic journey, I hold this truth to be self-evident - a family that holds together in grief, will outlast the kaleidoscope of challenges that lay before it. I believe, as the nation of Kenya, we will need to change tact. To let political absolutism, fall to the side in favour of democratic pragmatism. Shunning the blood-filled protest fields for the battlefront of public debate. As the departed champion for our liberties did many a time - friend or foe, we must all shake hands and call a truce to the cold wars within our borders. Let us dialogue vigorously and debate spiritedly yet peaceably, about the Kenya we must build. Authentically and inclusively, traversing our generational and ethnic contours. To tackle unspoken tensions; and maybe, with enough naïve optimism, sheer doggedness and good fortune - we might overcome the ghosts of our civic past and appeal to the better angels of our political nature.

For all his positives and peccadilloes, I truly believe that before Jakom left us, he had started us on this journey of difficult conversations and painful pauses. Perhaps he was showing us a new political way. Of how to build bridges with one another. Over lakes of deep cynicism and around mountains of profound mistrust. Across deserts of abject neglect and through valleys of shameful estrangement. To every shoreline and artificial borderline of our eclectic nation.

But though a great tree is dead, the forest remains. And together, we, as the seeds who are left behind can collectively sprout a forest greater than the sum of our individual trunks. It is what Jakom would have wanted. Not to be history’s loudest voice sounding the cry of progress. But to sire a nation of many political progeny - a litter of lion cubs - whom he taught to roar freedom’s chorus. And at all times, to stand in defence of it. And if need be, to fight for it. And if we must, be prepared to die for it.

It is appointed to every nation a time wherefore the nation must confront the weight of its collective conscience. As Kenyans, I believe we have arrived at our long hour of reckoning, our divine date with destiny. We find ourselves thrust between the heavy hand of recent history and the promises of our posterity. Political visibility has reached a near epic low. The onus of charting what remains to be our destiny, overwhelming. Perhaps owing to death’s long shadow cast over the battered bodies and spirits of our brave, young Kenyans. Perhaps from the fog of a nation’s grief at losing a liberation icon to the allures of a flailing administration, and subsequently to the grip of death. We are a nation dancing closely at the deadly edge of our elastic limit. Where the young are embattled, beleaguered by a climate of forced disappearances. Outmanned, overpowered and beset by protest fatigue; and the spectre of premature departures.

Indeed, we find ourselves entering a new unchartered political reality - a post Raila’s-patronage political dispensation. Yet charge on we can and shall towards political progress. Not with iron-clad weapons, but as he showed us, with characteristic iron-wrought will, razor-sharpened wit and enigmatic wisdom. Perhaps Raila was was more a reflection of what it is to be truly Kenyan rather than an outlier – he had our unparalleled hospitality, our legendary stubbornness, indefatigable collective will and an unending capacity to reinvent ourselves and make anew. After all, we Kenyans harbour the blood of champions, fighters, liberators. Perhaps, there’s a bit of Raila-ness in us all. In our own different ways.  R.I.P. Raila Amolo Odinga Sibuor. Have your seat at the dinner table of imperfect, but undeniably great Pan-African legends.

The writer is a policy strategist