Amanze Chinonye
On Sunday, October 19, 2025, thousands gathered in Bondo, western Kenya, to bid farewell to Raila Amolo Odinga the man whose name became synonymous with resistance, reform, and relentless belief in the possibility of a just Kenya.
The former Prime Minister, who died of cardiac arrest in India on October 15, was laid to rest beside his father, Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, another towering figure in the country’s struggle for independence and democracy.
President William Ruto led the state funeral, declaring a week of national mourning, with flags flown at half-mast. “Kenya has lost one of its greatest patriots,” Ruto said. “Raila Odinga was a man who dared to dream of a freer nation and that dream remains alive in all of us.” Former President Uhuru Kenyatta described Odinga as “a bridge between generations,” adding that “history will remember him not for the power he sought, but for the freedoms he secured for others.”
From across Africa, tributes poured in from Nelson Chamisa of Zimbabwe, South Africa’s Cyril Ramaphosa, to Nigeria’s former President Olusegun Obasanjo each recalling Odinga’s unwavering commitment to Pan-African unity and democracy. The African Union Commission Chairperson, Moussa Faki Mahamat, hailed him as “a continental statesman whose influence transcended borders.”
But beyond the podiums and formal statements, grief was deeply personal. It rippled through the crowds in Bondo and across the country, from Nairobi’s slums to Kisumu’s lakeside villages.
Children waved flags, mothers wept, and old men leaned on canes recalling the decades of protest, exile, and resilience that had defined their “Baba,” as Odinga was affectionately called.
For many Kenyans, Raila was not merely a politician; he was an institution a living chapter of the nation’s conscience. His imprisonment under Daniel arap Moi’s regime, his role in ushering in multiparty democracy in the 1990s, and his steady calls for constitutional reform earned him both admiration and controversy. His path was not perfect, but it was purposeful.
Journalist Hanifa Safia captured the generational complexity of that legacy in her moving reflection:
“I grew up hearing the name Raila Odinga long before I understood what politics meant. In my childhood, his name carried the weight of courage and defiance, whispered in conversations that often ended with ‘if it weren’t for Raila…’ My father used to say Raila was not just a politician, he was a movement. My mother would nod, eyes distant, as if recalling the tension and hope that defined Kenya’s fight for multi-party democracy.”
Her words echo the sentiments of a generation that inherited Raila’s struggle rather than lived it a generation that has known democracy through stories, internet archives, and the digital retelling of history.
“We didn’t live through his detentions or the brutality of Moi’s regime,” she continued, “but we grew up in the country he helped shape one where dissent could at least breathe. Yet as we got older, we saw Raila not just through our parents’ stories, but through our own eyes. The Raila we saw wasn’t just the opposition warrior; he was a statesman, a negotiator, and sometimes, to our frustration, a reconciler.”
At the funeral, that duality the fighter and the forgiver was palpable. ODM party leaders spoke of his courage; ordinary Kenyans spoke of his compassion. “He taught us to question power, even when it’s our own,” said a teary university student who had traveled from Nairobi. “He wasn’t perfect, but he gave us permission to hope.”
Former Tanzanian President Jakaya Kikwete described Odinga as “Africa’s loudest conscience,” while Ugandan opposition leader Bobi Wine reflected, “He showed us that one can lose elections but never lose purpose. Raila didn’t just contest power he contested complacency.”
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And yet, among younger Kenyans, the mourning carried layers of confusion and conflict. Many remembered how, just a year earlier, Odinga joined the broad-based government amid youth-led protests over economic hardship and police brutality. To some, that decision felt like betrayal a softening of the same defiance that once inspired them.
Hanifa captured that generational ache:
“When Raila chose to join the government amid the chaos of youth protests, it felt like watching a father walk into the house of your oppressor. But maybe that’s where the generational gap truly lies. Our parents understood survival. They lived through times when defiance could cost you everything your life, your family, your freedom. To them, Raila’s decision was about preserving the country, avoiding anarchy. But for us, who have inherited a broken system that thrives on negotiation at the expense of justice, it felt like history repeating itself.”
Still, even the disillusioned could not deny the magnitude of his life. Across social media, Kenyans grappled with their feelings. “He walked so we could run,” one user wrote. “But somewhere along the way, he stopped running with us.” Another simply posted: “He was human flawed, steadfast, and unforgettable.”
In the end, perhaps that is where his true impact lies – in his humanity. Raila Odinga’s life was never about perfection, but perseverance.
As the sun dipped behind Lake Victoria, its reflection shimmered across the waters like a quiet farewell. The crowd stood still farmers, students, politicians, and elders united by a shared truth: that Raila Odinga’s life was not simply a tale of politics, but of purpose. He did not always win, but he never stopped fighting. And in a country where power often bends conviction, that alone made him extraordinary.
Across Kenya, the mourning bells tolled not just for the man, but for an era. His voice, often hoarse with defiance, had carried the dreams of millions who longed for justice. His footsteps had marched through tear gas, courtrooms, and ballot boxes always chasing the idea that Kenya could be better than it was.
At his grave, where his coffin now rests beside his father’s, the wind carried the chorus of an old freedom song one that once stirred a generation into courage. It felt as though history itself had come full circle.
“Maybe Raila didn’t walk with us to the finish line,” Hanifa wrote, “but he built the road we now march on. And that, perhaps, is what legacy truly means not perfection, but persistence. He dreamed out loud so that we might one day live quietly in the freedom he fought for.”
Raila Odinga’s story will be told in classrooms, sung in rallies, and remembered in whispers around kitchen tables. But perhaps his greatest legacy is the lesson that democracy is never finished – it must be fought for, again and again, by each generation that inherits it.
Raila Odinga, the man who made a nation believe may be gone, but his struggle, his faith, and his dream live on in the hearts of millions.
Amanze Chinonye is a Staff Correspondent at Prime Business Africa, a rising star in the literary world, weaving captivating stories that transport readers to the vibrant landscapes of Nigeria and the rest of Africa. With a unique voice that blends with the newspaper's tradition and style, Chinonye's writing is a masterful exploration of the human condition, delving into themes of identity, culture, and social justice. Through her words, Chinonye paints vivid portraits of everyday African life, from the bustling markets of Nigeria's Lagos to the quiet villages of South Africa's countryside . With a keen eye for detail and a deep understanding of the complexities of Nigerian society, Chinonye's writing is both a testament to the country's rich cultural heritage and a powerful call to action for a brighter future. As a writer, Chinonye is a true storyteller, using her dexterity to educate, inspire, and uplift readers around the world.
