The night Raila Odinga lost to William Ruto was the night masks fell. The so-called comrades who had fattened their careers on his back switched off their phones and vanished from Karen like smoke. They had milked his party, secured their seats, secured their perks and then dumped him like yesterdayโs headline. Some even whispered their relief. Loyalty? It was always for sale.
Two men refused to run. Edwin Sifuna stayed. Uhuru Kenyatta stayed. Mama Ida Odinga saw it with her own eyes when the noise faded and the vultures flew away, they held the line beside a broken man carrying the weight of an entire nationโs expectations on his shoulders.
When the Supreme Court tossed his petition aside and famously dismissed key arguments as โhot air,โ it wasnโt politics anymore it was grief. It was the brutal realization that power respects winning, not sacrifice. That those who eat at your table today will not even answer your call tomorrow.
Those who danced on his political grave should say it openly: Raila Odinga was good enough to deliver their victories but not worth standing beside when the storm hit. Opportunists built their empires on his name, then abandoned him at the gate.
History has a long memory. It records the fair-weather friends. It records the loyal few. And it records the cowards who disappear when the music stops.
If loyalty means anything in this country, remember this: some stood with Raila when it cost nothing only a handful stood when it cost everything.