By Nanganetvoices
A baobab has fallen—
and when such a tree falls,
the earth trembles,
the wind forgets its direction,
and smaller trees bow in silence.
He stood,
a voluble giant,
a sentinel of freedom watching over our land.
Through betrayals, prisons,
pain, and political droughts,
he remained evergreen—
a reservoir of courage,
a phoenix that refused to die.
Now he lies still—
fallen in foreign lands,
surrounded by foreign tongues and doctors,
far from the red soil that birthed his dream.
The enigma is gone—
the symbol of resilience,
the fighter for the weak and downtrodden,
the questioner of oppressors,
the mirror that made tyrants squirm.
O Kenya,
who will fight for you now?
Who will call out injustice,
when greed prowls your institutions,
when hope is rationed like famine grain?
The unifying voice of old and young
is gone mid-journey,
when our caravan still wanders in the desert,
while enemies of progress rage like desert storms.
Under his branches we gathered—
the faithful, the lost,
the dreamers of Canaan.
He stretched his arms like a father’s,
sheltering us from the heat of division.
They never let him rule—
they feared the truth his voice carried,
they feared the reforms his heart sought.
Yet he reigned in our hearts,
the people’s president,
summoned to high tables
to bless the deceit of kings.
O son of Odinga,
colossal spirit of defiance,
your sweat and blood watered
the democracy every village drinks from.
We did not see it coming—
this sudden quiet in the nation’s pulse.
The giant tree has fallen,
but from its roots will sprout seedlings,
young trees clinging to your coat tails,
your dream pulsing in their veins.
You were the fat we drew on when hope thinned,
the courage we borrowed when fear stalked,
the flame that refused to dim
in the night of long political knives.
Your roots ran deep—
through history, through struggle,
through the heartbeat of the land.
We are orphaned, Baba,
yet we shall not forget.
Your shadow still leans over our Constitution,
a reminder of promises unfulfilled.
We will honour you—
by rising above greed,
by standing for justice,
by finishing the Canaan journey you began.
You were our democratizing food,
our shelter in storms,
our medicine against despair.
Under your umbrella gathered all—
the straight and crooked,
the greedy and the honest,
the cons and the disciples.
You were larger than life—
Agwambo, Tinga, Rao, Baba—
your name remains the echo of freedom.
Shine now in the bloom of eternity,
like a thousand flower shades
hovering above this nation,
a stalwart spirit watching from the skies.
In our mourning,
we find our unity again—
for a baobab has fallen,
and Kenya must now
grow into its own shade.