Rigathi Gachagua’s removal from the deputy presidency counts as one the most expensive political experiments in Kenya’s recent history.
The excitement and celebrations that initially greeted his impeachment, some of it driven by the genie of envy that fuels the pull-him-down syndrome, has given way to a sobering reality that the man is articulate, intelligent, and even a little lovable. The William Ruto regime offered his impeachment as a burnt offering to appease a nation in revolt in the wake of the Gen Z-led uprising. It not only resulted in the public withdrawal of the political support of a region whose votes the regime rode on to power but also birthed a believable truth-teller who daily doles out doses of the regime’s sins, complete with receipts.
The regime continues to lose friends and repel people despite numerous new efforts to expand the tent and bring in more allies, while the former deputy president continues to defy gravity. And the management of Kenya gives the government little credit. The high-sounding rhetoric of issues-based politics has been swiftly replaced with pork-barrel ethnic inclusion. The logic of the so-called reasonable voices at the height of the Gen-Z uprising was that evicting the State House occupant at the time would saddle the country with a Frankenstein of a tenant. It was the fear of Gachagua’s bellicosity that drove politicians he had fought tooth and nail to gang up with his boss to do him in, believing that he was expendable.
If the former deputy president was previously rough at the edges, and styled himself as the son of Mau Mau given to ethnic baiting through outrageous jingoism, the rough and tumble of opposition politics has honed his political skills. He has shape-shifted to partly mirror part the character of Comrade Fiasco in Andrew Whaley’s play, The Rise and Shine of Comrade Fiasco, a Zimbabwean liberation war veteran returning after seven years absence to a freed country.
Gachagua’s erstwhile divisive language is repackaged as honesty. Dressed in the confidence of the hippopotamus emerging from the river to declare that the crocodile is sick, he has grabbed his grievance and turned it into a formidable lance with which to exact political revenge. He has apologised for past missteps and vowed to trust less and listen to the people more. His sins are easily tolerated if not forgiven outright for choosing the people over his dinner. He is not a neat victim, but he is a victim nonetheless, and one the public is learning to love. Gachagua has tried to project himself as a defender of young people who have lost life and limb to correct Kenya’s course, and recently called for a cessation of street action to count the cost it continued to exert on them.
His matchless talent for sloganeering has supplied inimitable catchphrases, like ‘wantam’, which solidify the threat to make Ruto a one-term president. Even without formal title or pretence to public office, the former DP has turned his village home into a Mecca for the opposition and created a political movement evident in the rising popularity of his newly-formed political party.
The perceived dissonance between his claim to be able to mobilise seven million ethnic votes, and the Gen Z “tribeless, leaderless, partyless” mantra can be quickly resolved if political purity is weighed against political success. The negotiation will most likely be whether vengeance will carry the day over Kenya’s hope and ambition. Ethnicity is, after all, a part of the nation’s DNA. He showed up with all his previous bad manners but is growing on in the country. What has yet to be unpacked whether Kenyans love him for his utility in their present struggles is a dud cheque or a promissory note that will be cashed at the elections. Ruto is a living lesson that failing to pay Gachagua’s political debts has consequences.
The icing on the cake is that Gachagua no longer desires to be a heartbeat away from the presidency as he once was; he wants to be the muscle pumping blood throughout the republic. It is as ridiculous as it sounds. His impeachment, if upheld by the courts, calls to mind the provision that reads: “A person who has been dismissed or otherwise removed from office for contravention of [the Constitution] is disqualified from holding any other state office.”
The High Court has not heard the petition he filed to challenge his impeachment. Should he be dissatisfied with its finding—and he will be if the impeachment is upheld—he will go to the Court of Appeal, and perhaps to the Supreme Court. Unless the courts fast-track and resolve his case before August 9, 2027, he can contest the presidency on the argument that he has not exhausted all avenues of appeal. That is the same logic that sneaked Uhuru Kenyatta and Ruto into the presidency when they were charged with crimes against humanity cases at the International Criminal Court.
Gachagua’s tentative declaration of his candidacy for president might seem like the opening gambit in a long-drawn negotiation for a single opposition candidate—until it is not. In Kenya’s despair, it is being presented with the same choice it has had in the past three elections, with the pretence of a different face.
The write is a board member of the Kenya Human Rights Commission and writes in his individual capacity. @kwamchetsi; [email protected]
