By Nyang’au Araka
The other day, I came across a screenshot online that stopped me in my tracks.
Someone had written, “It still feels bizarre to type the late Raila Odinga.”
That single line carried the weight of a nation’s disbelief.
For many Kenyans, Raila was more than a politician; he was an institution, a living idea.
Truly, to call him the late feels almost like saying the sun failed to rise.
Since his passing, one truth has become painfully clear: the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM) was not just a political party; it was an enterprise in every sense of the word.
It was a grand idea, a movement; a business of belief built around one man’s charisma and in fact, got a huge junk of funding from the Political Parties Fund.
For two decades, Raila embodied ODM and ODM embodied Raila. The orange symbol wasn’t merely a fruit; it was a heartbeat.
By the time death caught up with the leader, plans were already underway to celebrate 20 years of the ODM enterprise with a grand rally at the Coast.
That celebration never came to pass and the party now finds itself in mourning, not only for its departed leader but also for the uncertainty that hangs over its future.
ODM’s Monday meeting, the first without Raila, was filled with more sighs than speeches.
To some, the announcement by Secretary-General Edwin Sifuna that Oburu Odinga, Raila’s 82-year-old brother, would assume the role of party leader landed like a damp cloth on a candle.
Dr Oburu’s elevation may have been meant as a gesture of family continuity, but to others, it felt like an anticlimax; a reluctant handover in a house suddenly darkened by the absence of its owner.
The party that once prided itself as the home of reform and resistance now looks like an aging company still using its founder’s manual, with no clear CEO to take over.
It is a sobering moment not just for ODM, but for every political outfit, business, and social group that believes it can survive forever on the strength of one person’s name.
ODM has always been a classic enterprise; bold, daring, and unrelenting, although this appeared to nosedive when the party entered into a working arrangement with the United Democratic Alliance (UDA).
It appears that ODM failed to put in place a proper succession plan and like an enterprise built around one towering figure, the day that figure departs, the walls begin to crack.
You could say ODM’s current turmoil is not unique as even family businesses, churches, and social clubs crumble when the founder exits without a tested line of succession.
It is telling that President William Ruto, himself a one-time ODM insider, chose to wade into the matter by declaring he would support ODM to thrive.
His tone was both sympathetic and ironic; a founder wishing well to the company he helped start, even as he watches it teeter on the edge.
Leadership, whether in politics or business, must always plan for transition since power is not eternal.
Death, defection, or disgrace can strike without notice.
The irony is that those most likely to succeed often undermine their bosses; whispering, plotting, or wishing them away and yet when the inevitable happens, they find themselves unprepared and overwhelmed by the very responsibility they coveted.
ODM’s current dilemma mirrors what happens when a company loses its visionary founder.
The board gathers, committees are formed, and everyone speaks in past tense as the spirit that once animated the enterprise fades into routine.
Still, ODM’s situation is not hopeless as the party can reinvent itself but only if it dares to look beyond a name and invest in institutional strength.
The time has come for ODM to truly project itself as a genuine political organization with systems, not sentiments.
The same warning applies to all of us; to churches that worship their pastors, to companies that revolve around founders and community groups that crumble when the chairperson relocates.
In the end, perhaps ODM’s story will serve as a mirror for our nation’s political and social culture and encourage us endevour to build lasting institutions.
For now, the party walks a tightrope, balancing between nostalgia and necessity, loyalty and logic.
Whether it steadies itself or slips into history will depend on whether it can learn the one lesson its founder never had to face in life: how to exist without him.
-Mr. Araka is a member of the Kisii Press Club.