At the door of Razzle Dazzle Barbershop & Spa, a popular grooming spot for the city’s elite along the busy Kimathi Street, a cheerful man in a navy-blue pair of khaki trousers, a cotton white long-sleeved shirt, and navy-blue sneakers welcomes us with a broad smile.
His name is Julius Kamau Kimani — or Kama as everyone calls him — and for 17 years, this has been his second home.
“Karibu! Karibu! (welcome! welcome!)” he says warmly, ushering us in with the kind of enthusiasm that instantly puts you at ease.
But beneath that cheerful demeanour lies a deep sense of loss — the loss of not just a client, but a friend, mentor, and, in his own words, “a man who changed my life.”
Raila Odinga’s Barber Julius Kimani recalls their 15 years of friendship
Kamau, 47, is not just any barber. For more than 15 years, he was the personal barber of the late Raila Amolo Odinga, Kenya’s long-serving opposition leader and statesman.
“I started handling Baba’s hair in 2009,” Kamau begins.
“From then until August 1, 2025, I never missed a single session when he came for his haircut. That was the very last time I saw him alive.”
Julius Kamau (right), the late Raila Odinga's barber, at Razzle Dazzle Barbershop on Kimathi Street in Nairobi on November 13, 2025.
Photo credit: Sila Kiplagat | Nation Media Group
Mr Kamau joined Razzle Dazzle Barbershop in 2008. Back then, it was a modest establishment — a few chairs, basic tools, and a handful of clients.
One day, as fate would have it, Mr Kamau was handpicked among his colleagues to attend to Raila whenever he visited.
“That was the biggest honour of my career,” he says.
“From that moment, I became his barber — his personal barber. It meant a lot to me because not many people get to serve such a great man.”
Despite his stature, Mr Kamau remembers Raila as an unassuming man who never demanded special treatment.
“To be sincere, Mzee was a good man,” he says.
“You know, most Kikuyus used to say bad things about him, but that’s because they never interacted with him. I did, many times. And I can tell you, Baba was one of the most humble and respectful people I have ever met.”
They shared conversations about politics, life, and family — but always within the comfortable walls of the barbershop.
Julius Kamau, the late Raila Odinga's barber, during the interview at Razzle Dazzle Barbershop on Kimathi Street in Nairobi on November 13, 2025.
Photo credit: Sila Kiplagat | Nation Media Group
“He never came with pride. He’d greet everyone, from the receptionist to the youngest barber. He’d say ‘Habari yako, kijana?’ and ask about your family.”
Over time, the two built a bond. Raila began calling Mr Kamau “the son of Mwangi wa Iria” because of his roots in Murang’a.
“He had a way of making you feel seen,” Mr Kamau says.
“Even when he was quiet, you could tell he was listening. He never dismissed anyone.”
The promise that never was
“One day, Baba told me he wanted to buy me something that I would always remember him for,” he says.
“He said, ‘You’ve served me well for years, I must do something for you.’”
“So I told him I’d love a small shamba in Machakos. He smiled and said, ‘That’s good.’
“But he left before that could happen. Even the last time I shaved him on August 1, 2025, he asked me, ‘Did you find the land?’ I said yes. Then he nodded and smiled. That was the last conversation we had.”
For Raila, grooming wasn’t about vanity — it was part of his discipline and public image.
Mr Kamau says Raila always preferred a plain size 2 haircut, neat and even, with his signature black hue.
“His hair was naturally grey,” Mr Kamau explains.
“We used to apply Just for Men dye to give him that youthful look. When it ran out of stock, we switched to Bigen Speed. He trusted me completely with the process.”
“We charged him Sh5,000 for the full service — haircut, dye, and scalp treatment,” Mr Kamau says.
ODM leader Raila Odinga speaks to journalists as he walks out of Ashleys Executive Barber Shop along Kimathi Street on June 1, 2014.
Photo credit: Evans Habil | Nation Media Group
Raila’s visits were regular — sometimes twice a month, sometimes once, depending on his schedule and because his hairstyle was simple, it would take 30 minutes for a perfect shave.
“He would often come in after public events or before traveling abroad,” Mr Kamau remembers.
“He always wanted to look neat. Even when he was tired, he’d still find time to come for a trim.”
Mr Kamau breaks into laughter recalling a particular day when Raila walked in with an uneven hairline.
“I looked at him and asked, ‘Mzee, what happened?’” he says, chuckling.
“He told me he was trimming his white beard at home and accidentally descended on his hairline. He laughed about it.”
That day, Mr Kamau fixed the hairline and teased him that someone on social media had joked that ‘Raila’s barber should be arrested’.
“He had such a good sense of humour,” Kamau says. “He never took himself too seriously.”
Between the sound of clippers and laughter, Kamau often found wisdom in Raila’s words.
“He once told me not to be carried away by politics,” he recalls. “He said, ‘Politics is not always real. What you see is not what it seems.’ He told me to stay focused on my craft and not get distracted by political drama.”
Kamau says Raila never came across as stressed, even when the country was tense.
“He was calm, composed, and full of stories,” he says. “Sometimes, he’d fall asleep while I shaved him — that’s how relaxed he was.”
But on that last visit, something felt different.
“He looked peaceful,” Kamau says softly.
“He slept through most of the shave. It was a simple cut — nothing unusual and I was very keen and handled him with care.”
A witness to the final visit
Across the room, another man who shared that fateful day offers his perspective.
Ahmed Ibrahim, popularly known as Ahmed Papa, has known Raila for more than two decades.
“I’ve known Baba for about 22 years,” Ahmed says.
“I worked with him when he was Prime Minister and even vied for the Lang’ata Parliamentary seat in 2017. We shared the same barber — Kamau — and I used to bump into Baba many times here.”
Julius Kamau shaves Ahmed Ibrahim at Razzle Dazzle Barbershop on Kimathi Street in Nairobi on November 13, 2025.
Photo credit: Sila Kiplagat | Nation Media Group
Ahmed says that on August 1, 2025, he came to the barbershop after attending Friday prayers at the mosque across the street, accompanied by his 9-year-old son, Maliq Ahmed.
“I had finished my haircut and was waiting for Maliq when there was some commotion,” Ahmed recalls.
“Then Raila walked in with his security detail — calm as always. He greeted everyone with ‘Habari zenu?’ and smiled when he saw me.”
“He looked at my son and asked politely, ‘Can I sit here, kijana?’” Ahmed says, smiling.
“Imagine, a man of his stature asking a 10-year-old boy for permission to sit! That was Baba — humility personified.”
Kamau quickly attended to Raila as everyone looked on. Within 30 minutes, the session was done.
“He then went to the next room for a manicure and some grooming,” Ahmed recalls.
“When he was done, he paid for everyone — me, my son, and even tipped the barbers generously. We all left happy, not knowing that was the last time we’d see him alive.”
“When I got the news of his death, I couldn’t believe it. I thought of that day — how calm and happy he looked. How he smiled at Maliq. It was surreal.”
To both Kamau and Ahmed, Raila Odinga was not just a political figure; he was a human being who embodied humility, warmth, and compassion.
Julius Kamau shaves Maliq Ahmed at Razzle Dazzle Barbershop on Kimathi Street in Nairobi on November 13, 2025.
Photo credit: Sila Kiplagat | Nation Media Group
To Maliq, Raila was a humble and jovial man.
“I remember that Friday he told me, ‘Maliq acha nikate line’ and after he finished he told me, ‘Asante kijana, sasa kuja uendelee .”
“Okay, this was not the first time I was meeting and interacting with Raila, we have met more than twice.”
Back inside Razzle Dazzle, life goes on. Clippers buzz, men chat, and the scent of aftershave fills the air. But for Kamau, something will always be missing.
“Sometimes I still expect him to walk in, to sit down, smile, and say, ‘Son of Mwangi wa Iria, niko sawa leo ?’”
He pauses, “But he won’t. He’s gone. Yet his spirit — that calm, kind, and generous spirit — still dawdles here.”
