A few years ago, Raila Odinga invited me to lunch. As Jeremiah Kioni was walking into the sitting space, Raila requested me: “Let’s go and have our conversation elsewhere.”

Kioni who was “bigger” – member of the government or ruling clique –had apparently interrupted us. He instructed Kioni to continue ‘from where we had left’ with food. It was a polite way of telling him there was confidential information we were sharing and he did not want him (Kioni) to be privy to it.

We walked into a bedroom that had no chairs. I was confused. He sat on the bed. I followed suit. Then he said: “What I am going to tell you, I have only told four other people. Nobody should know this. Is that okay?”

Four people? Me the fifth? This is how highly he rates me? Of cause, he was about to ‘detonate’ a bomb in four days. Was I not close and trusted? I think too, very close and trusted. What he told me was sensitive and a subject for another a day.

Close as he was to me in life, imagine I could not even view his body fearing a stampede at the funeral. I was in Bondo on October 18, 2025, to examine and internalise the physical impression of his grave. I was curious to know how he will ‘sleep’.

I knew Cabinet Secretary Kipchumba Murkomen’s men (police) would shoot my legs if I demanded my rightful space in Raila’s funeral space. The last time I talked to Raila, I asked for a meeting with him.

“If you are still in Kilifi, don’t come. I am coming over. Will see you there,” Raila told me. He didn’t make because of “an emergency in State House”. Ruto needed him. I lost my last chance for a chat with him. Indeed. We lost him to them.

When Raila’s father Jaramogi Oginga Odinga died, I wrestled my way to his coffin and viewed his remains. Raila being more powerful and fully embraced by the bourgeoisie locks us out more firmly because in a class society, “successful” progressives are buried by their enemies. Indeed, success in class society is joining the class and being owned by them.

The most unfortunate burial was South Africa’s Nelson Mandela where his international enemies led by the United States took a space of honour on the podium and the programme not to mention the local enemies.

Remember, Mandela’s arrest was CIA (Central Intelligence Agency) assisted and for a long time America funded the apartheid regime as its official outpost neo-colonial policeman in southern Africa.

Those who threw teargas and bullets at Raila now watch, clean, surround, carry and forerun Raila’s movement. We were shushed 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. In other words, we did not exist.

I know this doesn’t pain the lowly and most of us because we think this is how God made the world. Most of us have embraced the system’s definition of honour: Many rich people, thieves, terrorists in suits, police and army watching over them. We even believe they deserve the honour, comfort, security and food.

Tragically, we even celebrate losing those close to us to them so that they can eat on our behalf as they partake of all the privileges.

But! But! Lakini! Raila and Mandela are, have been and will always be ours now and forever.

The King is dead! Long live the king!

• A Tell Media / By Wafula Buke as posted on Facebook