Beyond 'Kasongo': How nicknames shape Kenya's political narrative

There are few things that seem to come more naturally to Kenyans than bestowing nicknames on national leaders.

These political nicknames range from affectionate to damning, but they all serve as useful tools for communicating public reactions and ideas.

All our presidents have had their special 'monikers', beginning with Jomo Kenyatta, the 'Burning Spear'.

Kenyatta senior ruled at a time when no one dared publicly speak anything remotely derogatory about the president, except on likely pain of death. There were no cartoons depicting the president in those days, not to mention, of course, no social media. Only one person got away with voicing serious opposition, and he paid dearly in very many ways. That was Jaramogi.

The fear of repercussion continued during Daniel arap Moi's time. He styled himself the 'Professor of Politics' and few had the temerity to say otherwise. Later, after he advised people to follow in his footsteps, he acquired the nickname 'Nyayo'.

Then we had Mwai Kibaki, 'General Kiguoya'. 'Kiguoya' means 'fearful one' in the Kikuyu language, and Kibaki got this nickname in the 1980s and '90s when his rivals mocked him for being hesitant to challenge the single-party Kanu regime and slow to join the opposition.

Uhuru Kenyatta was known first as 'Kamwana' – the 'baby' or 'young one', because he entered high-level politics at a relatively early age. He was later called 'Jayden' – a name considered that of a posh, pampered boy who is promoted and propped up by his mother.

It is when it comes to William Ruto, though, that people have given vent to their anger with serial inventiveness.

Ruto himself chose his first nickname, styling himself a 'hustler'. A more accurate term would have been 'huckster'.

Among a number of angry labels pinned on him since are 'Zakayo', after the biblical tax collector Zacchaeus, for Ruto's unpopular tax hikes; 'El Chapo' for his promise (unfulfilled, like all of them) to supply schools with machines to make chapati; and 'Kasongo', from a Congolese song about a man who abandons his family, just as Ruto has abandoned his promises to the family of Kenyans.

The latest nickname is 'Mr Six Months', reflecting Ruto's often reiterated promises of what we shall be enjoying in six months' time and for which we are all still waiting.

Other leaders have had their handles too, notably Raila Odinga, who counted among many affectionate nicknames 'Tinga', the tractor, after the National Development Party's symbol in the 1997 General Election; 'Nyundo', the hammer, for his forceful political style; 'Agwambo', a Luo term meaning 'mysterious' or 'enigma'; 'Jakom', a Luo title of respect; 'Joshua', for his often-declared determination to lead Kenyans to 'Canaan'; and eventually, for many like-minded Kenyans, 'Baba', our father.

Rigathi Gachagua was affectionately named 'Riggy G' by a young fan. He has styled himself 'The Truthful Man' and, I have to say, I have enjoyed some of his truths and appreciated their telling.

One person who has long lived with a derisive nickname is Kalonzo Musyoka, who acquired the nickname 'Watermelon' during the 2010 constitutional referendum.

Kalonzo campaigned for the 'green' side in favour of the new Constitution, but his political opponents claimed he was secretly supporting the opposing 'red' team, hence the 'Watermelon' sobriquet – green on the outside, red on the inside.

Kalonzo's cautious – some might say diplomatic – approach to issues, and his careful political manoeuvres as he has navigated coalitions, have seen the nickname stick.

This is not a path exclusive to him, however, but one that has been followed by many of our leaders, including Raila. In fact, Raila was the ultimate practitioner of setting your sails to catch the wind.

It was always Raila's reasoning that if something is not working for you or no longer represents what you stand for, move on. And he surely demonstrated that far more than any other politician we have seen.

During his political career, Raila was in Ford, Ford-Kenya, the National Development Party (NDP), New Kanu, the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM), and ODM-Kenya.

He was in the National Rainbow Coalition (Narc), the Coalition for Reforms and Democracy (Cord), the National Super Alliance, and Azimio la Umoja–One Kenya.

He entered into co-operation with every ruling president since 1992 – with Moi in New Kanu in 2001, with "Kibaki tosha" in 2002, again with Kibaki in the 2008 coalition government, after a 'handshake' with Uhuru in 2018, and in a pre-election deal propping up Ruto's crisis-hit government in 2024.

And Raila didn't advertise his changes of heart ahead of time. He routinely harnessed the element of surprise to spring them on an unsuspecting nation. People always knew only what he had been saying publicly, not what he had been thinking privately.

When it comes to watermelons, however, there is another serious contender for the title.

It has always been mysterious that Uhuru declared his support for Raila in 2022 but was curiously and conspicuously absent from most of the presidential election campaign. He was hardly ever seen or heard, and he certainly did little to rally his 'community' behind Raila.

Why, indeed, was Uhuru so consistently missing from the action?

Some are now saying that he played Raila as his 'useful idiot', pretending to support him while working behind the scenes on quite a different plan.

That plan purportedly involved ensuring (while pretending otherwise) that Ruto got elected in 2022 and re-elected in 2027, so that when he retired in 2032, yet another Kenyatta (brother or son?) could stand for the presidency and Ruto could be relied upon to return the favour with his support and blessing.

Is that what happened? Do the two of them together, Uhuru and Ruto, have just too much to protect? Shall we just randomly mention, simply as one example of national mysteries, a missing one-billion US dollar Eurobond...?

And is Uhuru revisiting this tried-and-tested game plan with his candidate Fred Matiang'i, who cannot win the presidency by force of numbers but who could act next year as another "useful idiot", helping to ensure the splitting of the vote and Ruto's re-election?

Or is Matiang'i himself meant to be the placeholder? After all, the two of them have history: when Uhuru was president, Matiang'i was his enforcer. Uhuru usually presented a genial, amiable, almost bumbling persona, while Matiang'i, the enforcer, organised the other stuff.

That's another tried-and-tested game plan, and what's to say they are not hoping to revive some kind of useful partnership?

Political candidates all have their secrets and lies, and the coming year's run-up to the General Election will no doubt offer the nickname-bestowers plenty of golden opportunities for their creativity.