The air in Kajiado was thick with political tension last weekend, the kind that settles over a crowd when someone has finally said what everyone in the room was already thinking. Governor Joseph Ole Lenku’s “Lenku at 10” scorecard event — meant to celebrate a decade of leadership — became something far more charged: a public reckoning with former President Uhuru Kenyatta’s explosive claim that Raila Odinga actually won the 2022 presidential election.
Defence Cabinet Secretary Soipan Tuya did not mince her words. Neither did ODM Chairperson Gladys Wanga or Narok Governor Patrick Ntutu. These are not fringe voices — these are people who sit at the centre of Kenya’s political architecture, and they stood together in Kajiado to deliver a unified, unambiguous message: Uhuru is playing a dangerous game, and the country cannot afford the consequences.
What Uhuru Actually Said — And Why It Matters
Uhuru Kenyatta, the man who handed William Ruto his most consequential political betrayal and then watched Raila lose the 2022 race, has now publicly insisted that Raila was the rightful winner of that election. Let that land for a moment. A former head of state, who presided over the very institutions that conducted that election, is now casting doubt on its outcome — years after the fact, after the courts have spoken, after the country has moved on.
For young Kenyans who remember the chaos of disputed elections — the violence, the uncertainty, the economic paralysis — this is not abstract political theatre. This is someone lighting a match near dry grass and calling it a campfire. The 2022 election was hard-fought, deeply scrutinised, and ultimately upheld by the Supreme Court. To relitigate it now, through casual remarks designed to stir political emotions, is to treat the democratic process as a personal grievance mechanism.
The IEBC Is Not Your Political Punching Bag
Soipan Tuya went straight for the institutional argument, and she was right to do so. “We should stop discrediting the IEBC,” she said plainly. “The commission has been vindicated, including through the recent Ol Kalou by-election.” This is a critical point that deserves more attention than it typically gets in Kenya’s noise-heavy political discourse.
The Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission operates under enormous pressure in a country where electoral credibility is perpetually contested. Every time a senior political figure — especially one of Uhuru’s stature — publicly questions the legitimacy of an election the commission conducted, it chips away at public trust in a body that Kenya desperately needs people to believe in. The damage is cumulative, and it is real.
The Ol Kalou by-election, cited by Tuya, is not a trivial reference. It represents the IEBC functioning, delivering results, and moving forward. Uhuru’s remarks pull in the exact opposite direction — backward, into contested territory that serves no democratic purpose and benefits no ordinary Kenyan.
Statesmanship Is Not Optional at This Level
Governor Ntutu’s challenge to Uhuru was blunt in the way that only a fellow political insider can afford to be. “We want Uhuru Kenyatta to be statesmanlike,” he said. “He should stop invoking Raila Odinga’s name in a manner that stirs political emotions.” There is something quietly devastating about that statement — the implication that a man who led this country for a decade needs to be publicly reminded of what statesmanship looks like.
Uhuru’s political trajectory since leaving office has been marked by a peculiar restlessness, a refusal to settle into the dignified elder-statesman role that his predecessors, for all their flaws, at least attempted to perform. Instead, he has remained a live wire in Kenyan politics — unpredictable, pointed, and increasingly willing to make claims that serve his political alliances more than they serve the country’s stability.
The Stakes Are Personal for Millions of Kenyans
Here is what gets lost in the back-and-forth of political point-scoring: real people pay the price when election credibility is questioned without evidence. Businesses stall. Investors hesitate. Communities that have already survived post-election violence carry the trauma of knowing how quickly things can unravel when political leaders decide that winning the narrative matters more than protecting the peace.
Young Kenyans — the generation that showed up in 2022 with genuine hope that their votes would count and be counted fairly — deserve better than to watch former presidents weaponise electoral outcomes for political positioning. The Kajiado gathering, whatever its original purpose, became a moment where leaders chose to draw a line. The question now is whether Uhuru is listening, and whether it matters to him if he is not.
