The People’s President.

Why do we only see people’s worth when they leave us? Many times, when we are alive and doing life with others, we don’t give them much thought or appreciation. Even if we appreciate them, we don’t tell or show them. We keep silent when we should speak and speak when we should maintain shalap. Sadly, we criticise and highlight people’s shortcomings much more than we extend grace. Then, when they are gone, we do the opposite.

That is the feeling I’ve been going through since the passing of our former Prime Minister, Raila Odinga. He was my MP for Langata for many years, and I voted for him every election until he stopped running for MP. I will not claim that I knew him personally because we never interacted beyond the TV, but I’m suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable—the man who fought our battles is gone. Now, we must step up and defend ourselves, or we are done.

Baba was a great statesman, according to everyone who has eulogised him. Many have described him as selfless, especially when he gave up personal pursuits for the sake of peace. Here, we call it the handshake. I’m not a good politician. That’s the assessment I made after interacting with The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene. You need to know your opponent intimately and even pretend to be their friend while having several cards under the table to give you an edge over them. That sounds like scheming to me, and I’m poor at that.

Many say that after five national elections, with some hotly contested, Baba sacrificed his ambitions when the heat became too much in the country. He put country before self, entering power-sharing agreements with declared winners. Some have argued that this was a tactic to gain more clout than those in office. To some degree, I agree, especially going by the masses’ outpouring of emotion at his passing. There was no doubt that he was “The People’s President.” Even our current president acknowledged it at his funeral last Sunday.

Baba has left many political orphans. Kenyans like myself are wondering who will take his place and fight against state excesses on our behalf. Nature abhors a vacuum, so it’s just a matter of time before a new leader rises. However, that’s not my current focus. Baba died at 80, but it feels like he lived for 150 years because of the impact he had on Kenya and Africa in general. He was an engineer by education, but instead, he engineered politics and the direction of this country for decades. I cannot remember him for anything other than politics and fighting for people’s rights.

Perhaps that’s the measure of a life well lived: actions that outlast our lives. To me, Baba’s life was the result of a single-minded focus sustained over a long period. Hustling may seem like a good thing, but it often involves dabbling in many things and hoping they work out. Excellence, however, arrives when we do one thing well, improving consistently as we go along.

Perhaps the exception is when you’re a portfolio person like me, hehe: doing two or three things that converge into one. My transition coaching, storytelling, and nature photography combine beautifully to help people find and live a meaningful life. What’s your combination, folks? If you have more than one interest, consider seeing how they can work together to bring out the best in you. That’s a winning combination, not a competing one.

If Baba were an animal, he would be a buffalo—Jowi in Dholuo. Kenyans have equated some of Baba’s characteristics with the buffalo. Buffaloes, for instance, always charge; they hardly run away. They attack bila warning, trampling everything in their way. Huge and powerful, they can easily take down lions. It’s extremely difficult to bring down a buffalo. Lions have to work in huge teams and employ a lot of strategy to do so, and even then, the kill takes time. What animal embodies you?

The last three presidents may have thought they had defeated him when they came into power, but they each had to humble themselves and engage him in one way or another for their terms to continue. That’s who Baba was: a leader without the office but with undeniable authority. I wonder what his secret power was—every time he seemed out, he rose again even stronger. You can’t keep a man who knows his purpose down. What’s your purpose, folks? And how resolute are you about it so that even against great odds, you will keep going?

Baba has transitioned now and has left much behind for us to think about and carry on. We could say he has died empty, which I believe is the best way to check out. It’s what we leave behind that counts, folks, not what we carry with us.

Living a significant life has no limit. I wonder if Baba ever thought he would rise to the ranks that he did in Kenya and Africa. Maybe there were times he would pinch himself in disbelief. But he followed his convictions and climbed one step at a time until he reached the top of the staircase. The sad reality is that we have many Baba equivalents among us that we will never witness because they fail to stay the course and give up along the way. Every setback Baba went through seemed to make him stronger instead of breaking him, a key example being the years in detention under the Moi regime.

Most of us will not have to endure solitary confinement for our dreams to come alive, yet we give up when faced with much smaller obstacles. This reminds me of people who reach out to me wanting help to transition to the next season of their lives, but are not willing to do the hard internal work. What we tolerate, we accept— a lesson Baba taught us well. We either tolerate less-than-ideal lives and deal with the consequences, or we go for the life we desire and deserve and tackle the obstacles along the way.

The People’s President has run his race and fought the good fight. We are still running ours. May his passing motivate us to keep living significantly so that we, too, die empty. We may not be accorded a state funeral here on earth, but we will earn one huko juu if we live meaningful and impactful lives.

Fare thee well, Baba.