That Ruto is cornered is no longer something to dismiss, because the political mood, the anger on the ground and the fractures around him are becoming harder to ignore.
“Ruto Must Go” can win an election, but it cannot run a country, and the opposition must now start telling Kenyans what happens after the celebrations are over.
Start with the national debt. Which loans will they honour, which ones will they audit, what happens to odious or questionable debt, and how exactly will they stop Kenya from borrowing simply to repay previous borrowing?
Then tell us what happens to this bloated government structure where almost every problem has somehow produced an authority, agency, board, council, commission, fund, secretariat, director general, board chairman, CEO, offices, vehicles and allowances.
Why, for example, does Kenya need a whole Kenya Water Towers Agency with its own board and administration to coordinate conservation of water towers instead of placing that work directly inside the responsible ministry alongside the existing forestry, water and environmental departments?
The government itself has admitted that some State corporations have overlapping or duplicated mandates and has been trying to merge or restructure them, which tells you the problem is not imaginary.
How many water agencies does one country need before water actually reaches people's taps, when we already have the Ministry of Water, Water Works Development Agencies, the National Water Harvesting and Storage Authority, Water Resources Authority and other institutions funded from the same taxpayer?
How many agricultural boards, authorities and corporations do we need before farmers receive affordable fertiliser, functioning markets and reasonable prices for what they produce?
How many youth funds, women funds, enterprise funds and empowerment programmes must exist separately, each carrying administrators and operational costs, instead of creating one properly managed financing institution with measurable results?
Why do functions that could comfortably sit as departments inside ministries repeatedly become standalone State corporations requiring CEOs, boards, procurement departments, HR departments, finance departments, legal departments and expensive headquarters?
The opposition must tell us which State corporations it will abolish, which ones it will merge, which boards disappear on day one and how much money those changes will actually save taxpayers.
Tell us what happens to SHA and whether healthcare will continue being built around deductions, unexplained private technology companies and layers of agencies before money finally reaches the hospital treating the patient.
Tell us what happens to the housing levy, and whether government should really be collecting money from every worker, building houses, identifying beneficiaries, financing mortgages and competing with private developers at the same time.
Tell us what happens to university funding, HELB, school capitation and the endless experiments that leave parents discovering new education policies after schools have already opened.
Tell us what happens to county financing and whether governors will continue travelling to Nairobi every few months begging Treasury to release money that Parliament already allocated to counties.
Tell us what happens to corruption cases, because Kenyans do not need another government that arrives with its own thieves, protects them for five years and suddenly discovers corruption when somebody falls out politically.
Tell us what happens to procurement. Will every tender, beneficial owner, contract variation and final payment become publicly searchable, or will we continue pretending transparency exists when more than half of government contractors can remain hidden behind companies?
Tell us what happens to the police. Will the next president still call commanders when he wants opponents arrested, or will Kenya finally build a police service where an officer fears the law more than he fears State House?
Tell us what happens to the DCI, ODPP, EACC, intelligence services and other institutions that become extremely energetic when powerful people have private problems but suddenly develop weak knees when politically connected goons, killers and thieves are involved.
Tell us what happens to State House spending, advisers, presidential delivery units, special envoys, taskforces and endless committees created whenever somebody in government wants another office.
Tell us what happens to Cabinet size, principal secretaries, CAS style positions if they return under another name, government advisers and political appointees scattered through State corporations.
Tell us whether government vehicles will still consume billions transporting officials to meetings where they discuss why government has no money.
Tell us whether every new president will continue creating offices for election losers and coalition partners instead of forcing political parties to carry the cost of their own political settlements.
Tell us what happens to taxes, because promising to reduce taxation is easy until the same politicians enter Treasury and discover they inherited a government whose recurrent expenditure they are unwilling to cut.
Tell us what happens to pending bills, because thousands of businesses have supplied government, paid VAT, borrowed money to perform contracts and then waited years for the State to pay them.
Tell us what happens to electricity costs, fuel taxes, manufacturing, agriculture and small businesses, because Kenya cannot tax itself into prosperity and then wonder why investors move production elsewhere.
And most importantly, tell us what happens to the structure of political power itself.
If all the opposition is offering is another president controlling Parliament, influencing prosecutors, intimidating independent institutions, appointing friends everywhere and borrowing billions with no consequences, then we are simply preparing the next “Must Go” movement.
Ruto going is now a reality.
But Kenya cannot spend the next year discussing who takes the cake without asking why the cake is this expensive, why so many people are eating from it and why ordinary Kenyans are always the ones paying for it.
I'm struggling economically in 2026, and my president wants me to join a conversation about a plan for what he thinks might happen in 2060. Miss me with that ginene.
William Ruto was elected to punish Kenyan voters for electing bad leaders.
He's not in office to bring development but to show Kenyans what incompetent, clueless & corrupt president can do when given an opportunity to lead.
Kenyans are living in a constant state of national trauma. Almost every few weeks, the country is hit by another painful event; killings, abductions, accidents, economic shocks, corruption scandals, protests, fires, collapsed buildings, insecurity, unemployment, or political chaos.
The trauma never truly settles before another one arrives. It is as if the nation is permanently trapped in survival mode.
What makes it worse is that these events are not isolated in the minds of citizens. They accumulate. People carry unresolved grief, fear, anger, hopelessness, and anxiety year after year without any meaningful national psychiatric or emotional support. Many Kenyans are functioning while emotionally exhausted.
At the same time, the country operates under a nonstop political campaign environment. The political temperature is always high. Before one election cycle emotionally ends, another one begins psychologically. Citizens barely get the opportunity to simply live, heal, build families, grow careers, or enjoy stability without politics dominating their mental space. Many people are constantly worrying about leadership, economic uncertainty, tribal tensions, or what the next election may bring.
The result is a population whose decisions, reactions, and even political choices are often shaped more by trauma, fear, exhaustion, and emotional manipulation than by clarity or long-term thinking. A traumatized population is easier to distract, easier to divide, easier to emotionally provoke, and easier to control.
This national trauma is silently affecting the quality of life of millions of Kenyans. You can see it in the rising anger, depression, hopelessness, online hostility, substance abuse, emotional numbness, and the growing sense of detachment among many young people. Even normal conversations now carry tension, frustration, and fatigue.
A country cannot continuously survive on crisis mode and expect citizens to remain mentally healthy. Kenya urgently needs not just economic and political reforms, but also serious national conversations around collective healing, mental health, emotional stability, and the psychological wellbeing of its people.
Don’t let the government hoodwink you. They absolutely owe you functioning systems, clean water, healthcare, security, housing, job opportunities, and basic human dignity. It is within their constitutional mandate; that is literally their core purpose and duty.
What’s happening to our children?! 🥲
The increasing news of disappearances, killings and defilement of children is sending chills down my spine.
This disregard for childrens’ welfare shouldn’t be normalized.
We’re really living in horrific times😔
The Switch Is Spoilt, Not Just Off
Kenyans must outgrow this lazy binary thinking where if you are against Ruto, then you must be for Rigathi... if you attack Rigathi, then you must be defending Ruto.... if you criticize Uhuru, then you must be UDA...if you condemn UDA, then you must be Azimio.
Even worse is the tribal prison where people assume that because you are Kikuyu, you must automatically support Rigathi, or because you are Kalenjin, you must automatically defend Ruto. That is how politicians keep communities mentally captured, because instead of citizens thinking freely, they are reduced to ethnic voting machines defending thieves who do not even share the loot with them.
This country is not a light switch where everything must be either on or off. Sometimes the switch itself is spoilt. Sometimes the entire wiring is rotten. Sometimes the bulb, the socket, the meter and the person collecting the bill are all part of the same problem.
Ruto can be dangerous, Rigathi can be dishonest, Uhuru can be corrupt, Raila’s old opposition politics can have failed Kenyans, and the entire political class can still be one recycling plant of greed. These things can all be true at the same time.
The real tragedy is that Kenyans keep being forced into choosing which thief they want to defend, which tribe must own which thief, and which gang deserves another chance, instead of asking why the house is full of thieves in the first place. The country needs independent thinking, not political remote controls that only move between two broken channels.