As Prof Kithure Kindiki steps into Kenya’s second-most coveted political seat, he’d do well to pack a manual on mastering the art of political high wire. Here, in the capital’s game of thrones, he will find that loyalty has the shelf life of milk — and that those closest to you are sometimes the quickest to switch allegiance. He will also find that in the corridors of power, the knives aren’t just for cutting deals — they’re often aimed squarely at your back.
Prof Kindiki might want to take a page from Jaramogi’s playbook — though ideally without the abrupt exit. Serving as deputy means you’re perpetually in the crosshairs, not only of local power players but also of international ones. Case in point: Britain and the US, once so rattled by the idea of Jaramogi taking over from Kenyatta, that they quietly branded him a “communist menace” and backed Tom Mboya to unseat him.
The lesson? Don’t be fooled by smiles at state luncheons. Let the polite applause at diplomatic dinners not get into your head. Sometimes, the real actions are happening thousands of miles away, where global powers are hedging their bets on who gets to sit where in Nairobi. The game might look local, but the players aren’t always from around here. Enough said. Another lesson Prof Kindiki might heed: Joe Murumbi’s brief stint as Jaramogi’s successor showed that not every political prize is worth the price. Murumbi saw the writing on the wall and chose a quieter life over the backroom brawls where truth was the first to get axed. He preferred peace to power — a rarity in these parts.
As A Path Not Taken reveals, Murumbi’s rise to Kenyatta’s vice-presidency came with an unexpected plot twist: certain global powers weren’t exactly thrilled about his Pan-African ideals as Kenya’s Foreign Affairs minister. Their unease nudged him up the ladder, but Murumbi quickly realised he was the proverbial square peg in a very round, very slippery political hole.
So, a tip for Prof Kindiki: Some roles come with strings attached that stretch all the way to foreign capitals. In politics, the winning move is sometimes simply to say “thanks, but no thanks”. Murumbi did and walked away with his peace of mind intact. But in our scenario at the moment, Prof Kindiki doesn’t have to throw away the towel and walk away. He should steer the boat from within and help stabilise the system. Walking away, Murumbi-style, doesn’t help.
Prof Kindiki could take a loyalty lesson from Daniel arap Moi, who, as Kenyatta’s vice-president, played the role with unflinching dedication — and a keen survival instinct. When Moi wasn’t busy shuttling to major capitals, helping Kenyatta steer Kenya through Cold War crossfire, he was back home dodging daggers from his so-called allies. He knew that in this game, the friendliest smiles sometimes mask the sharpest blades. So, a note for Prof. Kindiki: while loyalty to the boss is admirable, watch your own back — especially with those “friends” who hang around a little too close for comfort. After all, sometimes the best way to keep your enemies close is to give them front-row seats.
Like Mwai Kibaki, Prof Kindiki is a scholar, an achiever — a man who brings brains to the table. When Kibaki was picked by Moi, he added a dash of professionalism to the office, proving that politics and integrity didn’t have to be sworn enemies. Kibaki was a charmer but also a savvy strategist who stood by Moi during tough times. When the Kiambu mafia wanted Moi out as VP, Kibaki remained loyal and refused to play cloak-and-dagger games like Charles Njonjo.
But Kibaki’s principles and spotless character were a double-edged sword. His clean image made some of Moi’s camp feel a bit... dingy by comparison. Kibaki wouldn’t dive into the murky depths of corruption, and that made him a target in circles where sleaze was standard. So, as Prof Kindiki takes his steps in this muddy, slippery political road, he’ll have to decide whether to follow Kibaki’s path — one that’s clean, but no easy walk in this world of quicksand.
When Gachagua took the Deputy President’s seat, I advised him in this column: avoid the allure of building a tribal fiefdom; aim for a national presence instead. I even pointed him to Dr Josephat Njuguna Karanja’s story — a man brought down by a hefty dose of hubris. Well, fast-forward, and Gachagua finds himself back in Hiriga village, a bit bruised.
Prof Kindiki, take note: Dr Karanja’s tale holds a valuable lesson. Don’t step on the very politicians who might be the rungs of your ladder tomorrow. Political seats are hollow, fleeting things; respect and humility toward even the “small” players could earn you the stability and allies you’ll need. Dr Karanja forgot this and was taken down by an unlikely duo — a mechanic named Kuria Kanyingi and a junior MP, David Mwenje. In politics, it’s often the unassuming ones who know exactly where to pull the rug.
Enter Prof George Saitoti — a man who knew his place in the political food chain. He wasn’t under any illusions; he knew he was brought in as the underdog, a marionette carefully selected by the Rift Valley mafia to be their pliable point-man at the Ministry of Finance. But Prof Saitoti was no fool. He played his part in the charades of corruption, amassing wealth and power, though with an ever-present whisper of paranoia in his ear. And for good reason — he had once been poisoned in an attempt to push him aside, a reminder that in politics, one can never be too careful.
To survive, Saitoti built a small circle of trusted confidants, maintaining loyalty with an uneasy smile and a rallying cry of “Nyayo Juu!” like a dutiful parrot. But loyalty, as he discovered, was a flimsy shield. His back was never fully covered, and his political future always under threat. For Prof Kindiki, a word of advice: loyalty might earn you favour today, but don’t count on it to carry you across the finish line. Just ask Prof Saitoti — or even Dr William Ruto.
Loyalty in politics has a funny way of evaporating right when you need it most. I’ll skip over Musalia Mudavadi’s tenure — not because there’s nothing to learn, but because you’ve already witnessed his endless tumbles and miraculous comebacks. Say what you will, but Mudavadi has a knack for turning slim pickings into a springboard for grand ambitions. He doesn’t exactly command the Luhya vote like a monarch, yet somehow, he always finds a way to breathe life back into his political career.
Now, as Prof Kindiki steps into the Deputy President’s role, he enters minus any real regional backing. Unlike Mudavadi, he’s not dancing his way up from a stronghold; he’s been handpicked by President Ruto himself, a kind of political anointing that gives him the entire country as his canvas. His task? To play big. If Kindiki retreats to Tharaka Nithi to “build his base,” he risks a swift morning ‘Gachagua-nisation’ — shrinking from a national figure to a mere regional player. Let that be his warning: stay in the national game, or wake up to find himself relegated to local league.
With that hindsight, Prof Kindiki would be wise to make a few calls — to seasoned veterans who’ve danced this political tango before. He might start with Kalonzo Musyoka , dial up Moody Awori , and study the survival tactics of William Ruto during his years as Uhuru Kenyatta ’s deputy. History is a hard teacher but the best one we've got, and if Kindiki wants to learn the real art of political survival, he’d better let these lessons sink in fast.
