In the quiet heart of Nyamira village, Bondo, a solitary figure stood beside a fresh mound of red earth. Former President Uhuru Kenyatta, dressed simply and without the trappings of high office, paid a silent tribute to his longtime friend and political rival, Raila Amolo Odinga, whose burial just hours earlier had drawn thousands of mourners and the attention of an entire continent. The moment, captured in a handful of photographs and quickly shared across social media, encapsulated the end of an era for Kenya, and the enduring personal bond between two of its most consequential leaders.
Raila Odinga, who died last week at the age of 80, was laid to rest on the evening of October 19, 2025, in a state funeral marked by a 17-gun salute, a military fly-past, and the presence of African leaders and dignitaries. According to the BBC, the burial was "part state ceremony, part spiritual farewell, and part political reckoning for one of Africa’s most resilient political figures." The ceremony was a poignant reflection of Odinga’s stature: a man who never became president, yet was widely regarded as the "people’s president" and a founding father of Kenya’s multi-party democracy.
As crowds cried out "Jowi! Jowi! Jowi!"—the Luo dirge reserved for the bravest and most impactful—the state that Odinga had so often challenged came together to honor him with full military rites. It was, as political analyst Wafula Buke noted in a heartfelt eulogy, a moment of stark irony: "Those who threw tear gas and bullets at Raila now watch, clean... We are deleted from his last story on earth. No photos, no seats on the podium. No touch of his coffin. No space on the programme even for a poem. But Raila and Mandela are, have been and will always be ours now and forever."
While most dignitaries left after the burial, Uhuru Kenyatta chose to linger, returning quietly to Kang’o Ka Jaramogi in Bondo the following day. According to The Mount Kenya Times, Kenyatta’s visit was not a public spectacle but a deeply personal gesture. He visited both Opoda Farm and the Jaramogi Oginga Odinga Mausoleum, accompanied by close friends and members of the Odinga family. There, he joined Siaya Senator Oburu Oginga and other relatives in prayer, reciting the Hail Mary and making the sign of the cross before lifting his hand in a gesture of farewell and respect.
After this moment of reflection, Kenyatta visited the residence of Mary Juma Odinga, Raila’s mother, and later traveled to Opoda Farm to meet Raila’s widow, Ida Odinga. As The Nation reported, Ida had also visited her husband’s grave earlier that morning, underscoring the private and familial nature of the day’s commemorations. Ismael Noo, a close confidant of the Odingas, explained the significance of Kenyatta’s return: "Given that all attention had been on the burial itself, he felt it important to return and officially extend the Kenyatta family’s condolences to Raila’s family."
The relationship between Odinga and Kenyatta was, in many ways, a microcosm of Kenya’s own political evolution. Both were sons of the nation’s founding fathers—Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, the first vice president, and Jomo Kenyatta, the first president. For decades, they stood on opposite sides of political battles, including the fiercely contested 2013 and 2017 presidential elections. The aftermath of the 2017 polls was particularly fraught, with unrest and uncertainty threatening to tear the country apart.
Yet in 2018, the two men surprised the nation with the now-famous "Handshake," a public act of reconciliation that cooled political tensions and set Kenya on a new path. Their partnership led to the Building Bridges Initiative (BBI), an ambitious attempt at constitutional reform aimed at promoting unity and addressing structural inequalities, though it was ultimately struck down by the courts. Nevertheless, the handshake became a symbol of maturity and unity, admired by many Kenyans who saw in it a model for resolving even the deepest divisions.
The personal bond between Kenyatta and Odinga grew away from the cameras as well. As recounted by a former State House aide, "They had differences, but there was trust. Sometimes they’d sit together after long meetings, sharing stories. It was a friendship born of struggle and mutual respect." Their collaboration, and the quiet moments they shared, resonated with a nation weary of political strife.
Odinga’s death has left a gaping hole in Kenya’s political and social fabric. According to historian Chebii Kiprono, interviewed by the BBC, Odinga was "one of the last genuine revolutionaries of modern Africa." His legacy as a champion of democracy and a defender of the marginalized is widely acknowledged, even by those who once opposed him. President William Ruto, in his eulogy, said, "In his passing, our nation, our continent, and our world have lost a titan of conscience, a visionary of uncommon resolve, and defender of the defenceless whose legacy will illuminate Kenya's democratic path for all time."
Yet the future remains uncertain. Odinga’s Orange Democratic Movement (ODM) is already experiencing internal divisions about its strategy for the 2027 general election. President Ruto’s government, which last year incorporated opposition figures in a "broad-based" cabinet, faces growing public discontent over the cost of living and recent political upheavals. As lawyer Chris Omore told a local newspaper, "The political order Raila helped shape is being tested. The next two years will likely be filled with tumult: leadership races, coalition fracturing, emotional politics, realignments around power and identity."
Some, like veteran politician Koigi wa Wamwere, lament the loss at such a critical juncture: "This was not the time for Raila to die. We haven't discussed with him on whether the tactics that we're using in fighting oppression and the problems that continue to plague the country are the best for us to apply." Others, such as political commentator Barrack Muluka, see an opportunity for a new generation to step forward: "Other younger people are going to step out to continue with Odinga's political mission and ideological struggle."
For many Kenyans, however, the image of Uhuru Kenyatta standing quietly at Odinga’s grave is a powerful reminder of what is possible when rivalry gives way to reconciliation. As Kenyatta once said during a 2021 event in Kisumu, "We may have disagreed politically, but we agreed on one thing, Kenya must come first." That sentiment, echoed in his silent tribute, may yet guide the country through this uncertain chapter.
As Kenya reflects on the life and legacy of Raila Odinga, the silent, simple acts of remembrance—far from the glare of politics—speak volumes about the enduring power of unity and the bonds that can bridge even the deepest divides.