Raila, the quiet genius of Kenya's evolving governments

Former Prime Minister the late Raila Odinga in past function. [Photo, Standard]

There are people whose lives read like the story of a nation. Raila Amolo Odinga was one of them. I have been reflecting not just about the man who earned the name Baba, but about the country he helped shape, steady, and soften in ways we may only appreciate now.

He was many things to many people. A liberator of democratic space. A storyteller who could hold a room with a proverb and a smile. A father whose laughter danced ahead of him. A leader whose humanity made both allies and opponents feel seen. His names evolved as he moved through public life — Jaramogi’s son, Tinga, Agwambo, Jakom, Baba Fidel - until finally he became simply Baba, the nation’s political elder.

But what lingers most for me is something quieter: Raila’s uncanny ability to make sense of the governments Kenya built along the way, and the wisdom he carried in knowing what each form could offer the people. He lived through every political season - storms, reconciliations, unlikely partnerships - and somehow turned each moment into a lesson on how a country grows.

During the Moi years, Raila showed us something few expected: that even in constrained political space, alliances could open cracks of possibility. The Kanu–NDP merger was messy, surprising, and full of contradictions - but it did something important. It forced the old order to confront itself. It created room for new voices. It unsettled what was rigid. In its own strange way, it prepared the ground for the dawn that followed - a period that reflected what Mancur Olson would call the transition from stationary to roving coalition-building elites. Sometimes, a country needs disruption to rediscover itself. Baba understood that.

Then came the Grand Coalition under Mwai Kibaki - a government born not out of convenience, but out of the burning need to heal. Nusu mkate, critics scoffed. But to ordinary Kenyans, it was the difference between fear and calm.

Out of that uneasy marriage came a new constitution, stronger institutions, and a country that could once again breathe. Where others saw compromise, Raila saw survival. A nation reconciled is a nation reborn - a practical embodiment of Arend Lijphart’s consociational democracy, where power-sharing becomes the stabilising mechanism for polarised societies.

Years later, after another season of division, he walked into Uhuru Kenyatta’s office and emerged with the Handshake - a moment that startled, soothed, and reset the temperature of the nation. It brought peace to streets that had forgotten peace. It unlocked development in places that had waited too long - Kisumu, Mombasa, forgotten towns along forgotten roads. It restored the simple dignity of coexistence.

The Handshake was not about two men. It was about one country choosing stability over stubbornness.

Now we speak of a broad-based government which equals an arrangement that stretches across political lines, ethnic loyalties, and ideological corners. This, too, carries Baba’s fingerprints.

He believed Kenya’s strength lay in widening the circle, not tightening it. In giving people a stake, not shutting them out. In letting every region feel the pulse of government. Inclusion was not a slogan to him. It was a moral duty.

In Kehancha Raila was a great politician. He was the one leader who made remote communities feel seen. He carried the hope that even those farthest from Nairobi’s gaze could claim their rightful place in Kenya’s story. May Raila - and his beloved sister Beryl Odinga - rest in peace.

Mr Nokwi is an economist and the Municipal Manager for Kehancha Municipality