The presidency is way out of reach for Mudavadi, Wetang'ula

Wetang’ula and Mudavadi face major hurdles in their 2032 presidential ambitions. [Courtesy]

Most of the time, localised political campaigns and pronouncements by some Luhya politicians are the stuff comedy is made of. That Kakamega Deputy Governor Ayub Savula believes either Musalia Mudavadi, Moses Wetang'ula or Ken Lusaka will become president in 2032, or any other time thereafter, is ridiculous. Their chances are the closest to zero one can get.

When one looks across Kenya's political landscape, it is clear that the ambitions of these three Luhya ‘heavyweights’ run into a solid wall of structural realities, a fractured regional vote, and a generational shift that is fast losing patience with career politicians devoid of transformative legacies.

While elected leaders like Kakamega Governor Fernandes Barasa and Senate Majority Leader Aaron Cheruiyot liberally hand out endorsements, pointing to Wetang'ula as a preferred 2027 running-mate pick or a 2032 candidate, both miss the fact that endorsements do not translate into votes.

To be fair, Wetang'ula remains the most promising of the group, but his ceiling is almost entirely tied to coalition arithmetic rather than organic national mass appeal. At 69 years old, any serious 2032 bid depends heavily on President William Ruto winning in 2027 and keeping his promise to back the region. Meanwhile, Mudavadi finds himself in an even weaker position than in past cycles.

Once viewed as the premier Luhya flag bearer, Mudavadi is currently scrambling to reclaim lost ground in Western Kenya, where new dynamics, spurred by the likes of George Natembeya and Edwin Sifuna, are chipping away at old loyalties. Mudavadi's historical performance tells a poor story; his last real solo test in the 2013 presidential race yielded a meagre 3.93 per cent of the vote. Neither he nor Wetang'ula has ever demonstrated true national pull, which relegates them to the role of regional gatekeepers within broader coalition deals.

Lusaka, on the other hand, barely registers on a presidential trajectory. Having no visible national platform of his own, he has opted to endorse Wetang'ula's putative 2032 bid rather than forge an independent path, leaving his personal presidential chances practically non-existent.

Compounding these individual weaknesses are deep societal flaws spanning Western Kenya. Historically, the region has always struggled to vote as a unified bloc, with rivalries among political players like Wycliffe Oparanya, Eugene Wamalwa, Cleophas Malala, and others systematically weakening its political leverage. Furthermore, the region lacks the sheer numeric weight to capture the House on the Hill alone. Because none of the three gentlemen possesses an independent, robust national party machine, any viable path to power would require an intricate alliance deal or inheriting the deputy slot.

Beyond the sobering truth, their records and political styles weigh heavily against them. Decades in high public office without any definitive signature achievements or a visibly transformed region give their local critics and younger rivals a potent weapon. They suffer from an absence of a compelling original story. Having spent their careers acting as loyal courtiers who primarily defend other people's agendas, they struggle fundamentally to convince the electorate that they represent genuine systemic change.

While age alone is not an absolute disqualifier–Mwai Kibaki won the presidency at 71 and Raila Odinga remained a fierce contender well into his seventies—it becomes a serious liability when paired with a lack of a solid grassroots base. By 2032, the clock will have ticked heavily against them, with Mudavadi reaching 71 and Wetang'ula turning 76.

Perhaps the most potent threat to their lofty ambitions is the changing socio-political fabric of the country. The younger generation in Kenya is growing increasingly assertive, impatient, and openly hostile toward status-quo politics, showing a fierce willingness to force out lacklustre Old Guard who rely solely on ethnic bargaining chips.

While landing the deputy presidency through alliance building remains mathematically plausible, an actual outright win at the presidential ballot box for Mudavadi, Wetang'ula, or Lusaka is close to impossible. Their most realistic, albeit remarkably narrow, route to the highest office is the traditional path of inheritance: securing the deputy presidency slot and taking over if a sitting president exits early. Short of that, their presidential dreams remain nothing more than political theatre.