It’s often said that words reveal the heart and this week, Nyeri Governor Mutahi Kahiga found himself at the center of a storm that has once again exposed Kenya’s fragile underbelly of tribalism, insensitivity and political recklessness.
After a video surfaced showing the governor making remarks that many interpreted as celebrating the death of the late former Prime Minister Raila Odinga, Kenyans from all walks of life responded with outrage. In the clip, Kahiga suggested that God had “come for Baba” to “smooth things up there,” implying that the Mt. Kenya region might now benefit politically from Raila’s passing.
The backlash was swift. Leaders across the political divide called his remarks shameful and unbecoming of a public servant. Citizens demanded accountability. Within hours, the Council of Governors (CoG) convened an extraordinary meeting, where Kahiga tendered his resignation, just minutes before his colleagues resolved to remove him as Vice-Chairperson.
It was a dramatic fall from grace, but more than that, it was a sobering reminder that leadership is not about who speaks the loudest, but who speaks with empathy.
When Politics Invades Our Humanity
As a nation, we are too accustomed to hearing divisive language wrapped in humour, culture, or “just politics.” But the truth is, these remarks seep into our homes and hearts. When leaders normalize insensitivity, the message trickles down that it’s okay to celebrate someone’s pain if they belong to “the other side.”
That’s how tribalism begins, not in rallies or parliaments, but in conversations around our dinner tables. It shows up when children hear their parents make sweeping comments about “them” and “us.” It grows when families teach loyalty to tribe over compassion for people.
Kenya’s beauty has always been in its diversity. Yet every election cycle, and sadly, even moments of national mourning, remind us how quickly that beauty can be twisted into bitterness.
The Power of Empathy in Families
Parents, our children are watching how we respond to such moments. When we mock death or justify cruelty, we teach them that empathy is weakness. When we cheer for insensitivity because “it’s our side speaking,” we plant seeds of division that will outlive us.
Empathy begins at home. It begins when we pause before we speak, when we acknowledge that grief, regardless of who experiences it, deserves respect. It begins when we teach our children that kindness isn’t a political act, it’s a human one.
Governor Kahiga’s story is not just about politics gone wrong. It’s about what happens when leadership forgets humanity and when communities forget that one day, the pain could be their own.
Because truly, it’s all fun and games, until the burial is at your own home.
