Dancing Lame in Addis: The Political Tragedy of Our Nation
Politicians Traveled to Addis in Spectacle to Appease Political Oligarchies in Order to Retain Favor
Nairobi, February 19 – Last weekend, the scene unfolded in Addis Ababa, a city where history was once again made, egos were bruised, and dreams of continental supremacy plummeted like a shot-down drone. Raila Odinga, the enigma, the perpetual political bride left at the altar, had just endured what many had anticipated—another defeat, this time at the African Union Commission. His loyal foot soldiers, ODM brigadiers, and government cheerleaders alike had traveled in droves, clad in diplomatic suits and borrowed wisdom, to “support” Baba. But their mission, as always, was deeply personal—to ensure that Ruto and Odinga, the gatekeepers of Kenya’s political slaughterhouse, remember them when the next feeding season comes.
And so, they danced lame. Chinua Achebe, in A Man of the People, wrote of a politician’s arrival greeted by a multitude cheering and singing in high-pitched voices, so desperate and blind in their adoration that they “danced lame.” They danced because that is what you do when survival depends on the whims of men who can make or break you. They danced because if they stood still, they might be noticed as not sufficiently loyal. This same pitiful performance was on full display in Addis, as lawmakers, political operatives, and professional praise-singers writhed in exaggerated grief, desperate to be seen by the two oligarchies – Baba and Ruto.
But let us extract the truth like a decayed tooth—brutally, painfully, and with no anesthesia.
Most of those who traveled to Addis went there not for Baba, not for Kenya, but for their own selfish calculations. The thought process was simple: if Baba wins, they claim credit for being part of history; if he loses, they still collect per diems and lodge in fancy hotels at taxpayer expense. All the while, their eyes remain fixed on the 2027 election, knowing full well that it is Ruto and Odinga whose hands must be greased—because, after all, they hold the knife to the meat pie, shaping the political feast to come. That is how politics works in our beloved banana republic—principles are like rental cars, used when convenient and discarded when the trip is over.
But this is beside the point. The real tragedy lies in the fact that we are a country in desperate need of sound leadership—a rudderless ship floating on a sea of mediocrity, directionless and vulnerable to the storms of ineptitude.
Since Baba’s humiliating defeat, ODM sycophants and UDA’s internet warriors have flooded social media with long-winded lamentations and conspiracy theories. The mourning period has been so intense; that one might think Odinga lost a war rather than an election he was never going to win anyway. One particularly enthusiastic Member of the County Assembly from a well-known Nairobi suburb, better known for his tweetstorms than his legislative work at City Hall, took to his X handle to claim that a former president had personally flown into Addis to sabotage Baba. As ridiculous as it sounds, this is the level of intellectual emptiness we now endure—where failure must always have an external cause, never the accumulated weight of one’s own missteps and terrible advise.
Raila’s bid for the presidency has been a tragic comedy spanning three decades, an opera of missed opportunities, strategic blunders, and unshakable loyalty to alliances that betray him at the altar. He has kissed political toads hoping they would turn into princes, only for them to remain frogs. He has crossed rivers, climbed mountains, and sworn oaths of fidelity to those who would later stab him in broad daylight. And yet, here we are—another loss, another bout of tears, another chapter in the grand tragedy of Baba.
To be fair, at 80 years old, Baba should be somewhere in Karen or Bondo, telling his grandchildren old stories of the giants and how and when he almost became president, almost became AUC chair, and almost changed Kenya. But politics, like a stubborn addiction, refuses to let him fade away.
Now, back to the serious crisis—our complete and total lack of leadership. Kenya, once the shining beacon of democratic resilience in the region, has become a global punchline. Our descent into political absurdity has been in the making for decades and it got better in 2013 when we collectively flipped off the world and elected two ICC indictees. We showed the world the middle finger. How we survived that moment remains one of modern history’s great mysteries. Then came the 2022 electoral circus, where every pledge was a broken promise in waiting. We all remember the phrase, ‘Nikiweka chini hii Biblia…’ Well, the Bible was literally and figuratively placed down, and what followed and remains is an orchestra of deceit so relentless that even toddlers now know their president lies with Olympic precision, weaving falsehoods as effortlessly as a gold-medal gymnast.
President William Ruto, in record time, has accumulated more nicknames than most people accumulate life achievements. If nicknaming were an Olympic sport, he would be our undisputed gold medalist. Some have called him Zakayo, a cheeky nod to the infamous biblical chief tax collector – Zacchaeus, which, let us be honest, is fitting for a man who shakes down even the struggling mama mboga for levies while sermonizing about how he is for “hustlers.” Others have anointed him Nabii, not because he prophesies, but because he has spent more time quoting the bible than some ordained priests—only that his miracles mostly involve disappearing campaign promises.
Then there is the Kaunda Uongoman, or Kaongo, a masterpiece of a nickname that not only critiques his wardrobe but also his, well… truth management skills. Inspired by his newfound love for the Kaunda suit, a fashion relic closely associated with Africa’s golden age of benevolent dictators, this nickname brilliantly combines Kaunda (for the outfit) with Uongoman for his olympic-level ability to keep a straight face while bending the truth. The suit may be starched, but the facts? Extremely flexible.
A few street “philosophers” have also christened him Kasongo —because, honestly, how many times must one remind us of things that don’t exist? Under Ruto’s regime, the phrase “we have done this and that… or …in three months we will complete or set up….” has become the national lullaby, hummed repeatedly, even when every shred of evidence suggests otherwise. If words built roads, Kenya would be rivaling Dubai by now. But alas, as it stands, the only thing expanding at record speed is his collection of nicknames aka aliases.
Achebe must have lived beyond our generation when he captured this kind of leadership perfectly: ‘The trouble with our new nation…was that none of us had been indoors long enough to be able to say ‘Ah, this is how it ought to be done.” In essence, our leaders, right from the villages to Parliament, operate in a perpetual state of self-congratulation and prostration before the current political oligarchs. The National Assembly, for example, that esteemed gathering of overpaid sycophants, devoted an entire afternoon session on Tuesday (yesterday) to eulogizing Ruto and Odinga for their win—sorry, their defeat—while condemning other Kenyans who dared to celebrate Baba’s loss. The absurdity was breathtaking—elected representatives, instead of discussing national issues, taking turns to scold the masses for exercising their democratic right to react as they pleased.
Suna East member of parliament, an ODM’s most loyal cheerleader, declared it was backward and primitive for Kenyans to celebrate Baba’s continental or was it monumental failure. He forgets that not everyone, unlike him, has to worship Odinga for political survival. Then came an emotional speech from a legislator from Rangwe Constituency, pouring her heart out in fervent praise and adoration of the two demi-gods, utterly oblivious to the fact that true leadership is about service, not cult-like loyalty. If these are the people holding the candles for their communities—and for the rest of us to see where we are going—then we will grope in the dark for as long as they remain on the political stage. But there is hope: if the Gen Zs, Millennials, and every Kenyan tired of this cyclical nonsense rise to the occasion, the only solution lies in your hands. Get out and get your ID, register to vote, and in the next election, flush out these political clowns. Otherwise, we will keep watching them dance lame while the rest of us pay the bill.
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