The author (January Makamba) and Raila Odinga at a past meeting. PHOTO|FILE
What you need to know:
I attended several rallies, but none were as electric as those of the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM), especially when its candidate, Raila Odinga, took the stage and launched into his signature dance - simple, rhythmic steps that sent his loyal supporters into a joyful trance
By January Makamba
In December 2007, as an election enthusiast, I travelled to Nairobi to witness the final days of one of Kenya’s most fiercely contested elections.
I attended several rallies, but none were as electric as those of the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM), especially when its candidate, Raila Odinga, took the stage and launched into his signature dance - simple, rhythmic steps that sent his loyal supporters into a joyful trance.
I was determined to meet this phenomenon, but securing an appointment proved difficult amidst the chaos of the campaign’s final stretch. The election was set for December 27, and by the 23rd, I still hadn’t succeeded.
Then, on the evening of Christmas Eve, I received a call from a new intermediary with an unexpected message: “Baba will have breakfast with you tomorrow at his house.”
I was stunned. Tomorrow was Christmas Day - could a presidential candidate, just days before an election, really have time for a stranger at his home? Yet I was told to be ready for pickup at 7 a.m.
I later learned that Raila agreed to meet me for three reasons: I was from Tanzania; he trusted the gentleman who made the request; and, most of all, his boundless curiosity and genuine interest in people, regardless of their stature.
I arrived at his driveway just before 8 a.m. and found him already active and alert, as if his day had begun hours earlier. We shared a warm breakfast with Mama Ida graciously serving.
Despite running against a powerful state machinery only days before the vote, Raila radiated an unexpected calmness and normalcy that deeply impressed me.
Our conversation revolved around his affection for Tanzania and Kiswahili, his admiration for Julius Nyerere, his dream of a more united East Africa and continent - and, quite endearingly, about me and my own aspirations.
I wanted to discuss politics, the campaign, and his fiery rhetoric; he wanted to treat me as an honoured Christmas guest. That’s exactly what happened.
I left with mixed feelings - regret that I hadn’t discussed the election, but joy that, for that morning, I felt like the most important person in his life. Before I left, he freely gave me his personal number.
That encounter left me with a lasting impression: whatever one may think of his politics, Raila’s humanity was unquestionable. Somehow, he always found time - and genuine attention - for everyone.
My second encounter with Raila came in 2014. I had been drawn into the frenzy of seeking my party’s nomination for the presidency.
Despite my age, I made a serious effort, grounded in clear and practical ideas for my country’s progress. As an elder statesman of the region - and a serial candidate - Raila was someone I deeply wished to consult for advice.
This time, it was not difficult to secure a meeting. He was then not on good terms with the government but received me warmly for a private audience. We spoke at length about resilience, conviction-driven politics, and the mechanics of mass mobilisation.
At one point, he called a friend whom he thought could also assist me. A gentleman at his home took a photo of us. By the time I reached my hotel, my phone was buzzing - friends from both home and Kenya were calling.
The photo had been posted on Raila’s Facebook page, captioned to suggest that I had called on him as a Special Envoy of the President of Tanzania to deliver a message. It nearly turned into a diplomatic incident.
I managed the situation quietly - not by publicly contradicting Raila’s narrative, but by making the right phone calls. To their credit, Raila’s team took down the post and reposted with a harmless caption.
That experience taught me that, when in “war footing,” Raila’s team would brook no protocol in defending and elevating their leader’s image. They considered me fair collateral in service of their mission to show that Raila remained a sought-after figure by regional leaders.
It was, in truth, a testament to his leadership — that he inspired such fierce loyalty among long-serving aides who often believed that consulting him during battle might risk precious time.
My last encounter with Raila was in June last year, during his campaign for the Chairmanship of the African Union Commission (AUC). Tanzania had agreed to President Ruto’s request to support Raila’s candidacy, and as Foreign Minister, part of my duty was to ensure that our support was both genuine and impactful.
Yet, in my conversations with colleagues across the continent, I sensed that the confidence Nairobi projected did not reflect the quiet hesitation many expressed privately.
I reached out to two people in Kenya: my good friend David Osiany, close to the Odinga family, to share my concerns; and the respected leader Hon. Musalia Mudavadi, to suggest we do more to strengthen regional backing.
I proposed that Raila be invited to a retreat of Foreign and EAC Ministers I was hosting in Zanzibar, so he could personally make his case to our colleagues.
He accepted, attended, and charmed everyone present - a consummate politician and a gracious guest. I reiterated Tanzania’s unequivocal support for him.
From that meeting, I learned that part of Raila’s humanity lay in his enduring belief in the goodness and sincerity of others. Even after decades in politics, having seen every shade of human character, he still approached people with childlike faith and warmth.
Raila Odinga was a political phenomenon - deeply loyal to his people, and in turn, loved with equal devotion. He loved Kenya. He loved Tanzania. He loved Africa. He welcomed everyone - even a stranger to his breakfast table on Christmas Day.
My deepest condolences to Mama Ida Odinga, their children, and the entire Odinga family - and to the great people of Kenya.
