By In Kenya today, something subtle but seismic is unfolding. Beneath the headlines and hashtags, the country is quietly rethinking who it is — politically, culturally, and generationally.
You feel it when elders gather in the dry heartlands of Ukambani to bless new alliances. You hear it in the angry rants of boda boda riders in Githurai. And you see it in the midnight tweets from anonymous Gen Z activists challenging power with memes, satire, and slogans like “Ruto Must Go.”
We are a country in motion. And in that motion, we are confronting old myths, experimenting with new loyalties, and, above all, asking: Who are we becoming?
- The Rise of the “Cousins”: A Kamba-GEMA Political Reunion
When the Kikuyu, Embu, Meru, and now the Kamba elders met in a public show of unity, calling each other “cousins,” it was more than a ceremony. It was an attempt to rewrite a broken story — one written in decades of mistrust, especially between Ukambani and Mount Kenya.
The word cousins carries emotional weight. It’s not just about votes; it’s about shared ancestry, trade routes, intermarriages, and land. And yet, not everyone is buying into it. Some Kamba youth feel it’s a ploy to rope them into someone else’s power struggle. Others see it as an overdue recognition of kinship.
One young teacher from Machakos put it simply: “We’ve always been neighbours. But now they remember we’re cousins? Election is coming, that’s why.”
Still, this reframing of identity — if rooted in honesty — could be a seed of long-term cohesion. But if it’s just political theatre? It’ll wither like the many promises before.
- Populist Promises: Why We Fall for Them Every Five Years
Let’s be honest. Kenyans are brilliant voters — passionate, informed, and deeply engaged. But every five years, we’re sold dreams wrapped in slogans. Free laptops. One million jobs. Bottom-up economics.
We believe — not because we’re gullible, but because we’re tired.
A mama mboga in Kiambu might say, “At least this one speaks our language.” A matatu driver in Eldoret might nod, “He was one of us, now he’s up there — maybe he’ll remember.”
Populism thrives in countries like ours because it offers the illusion of proximity. The leader seems close. He eats nyama choma, calls himself hustler, goes to church. But when he gets power, the promises evaporate — and we’re left with taxes, scandals, and arrests over tweets.
The danger is not populism itself — it’s our inability to hold it accountable. Until we change that, the cycle will repeat.
- From the Mountain: A Kikuyu Youth’s View of the Ruto–Gachagua Split
The split between President Ruto and his deputy Gachagua has stirred deep waters in the Mount Kenya region. For older Kikuyu, it’s about loyalty and betrayal. But for younger generations, it’s not so black and white.
“I’m not loyal to faces anymore,” says Brian, a 27-year-old digital marketer from Nyeri. “I’m loyal to who delivers. Period.”
The youth here are caught between two realities: the cultural pressure to “stick with our own,” and the personal urge to demand better, no matter who’s in office.
Gachagua’s fall from grace is a warning sign: if you represent the region but fail to inspire its youth, your days are numbered. Meanwhile, Ruto’s hardline policies — especially on taxation — have left even his strongest young supporters reeling.
What we’re seeing is not just a political rift, but a generational reckoning. The Kikuyu youth — like others across Kenya — want more than rhetoric. They want dignity, opportunity, and truth.
- Gen Z vs the State: Tweets, Protests, and Digital Defiance
If 2007 was the era of machetes and ethnic militias, 2025 is the age of memes and TikTok dissent.
The youth of Kenya, especially Generation Z, are pushing back — not with stones, but with satire. They’ve weaponized the internet, using humour to punch up, and solidarity to stay safe.
In the #RutoMustGo movement, we’ve seen real bravery. Young Kenyans facing arrests, abductions, even torture — just for speaking out online.
What makes this movement different is that it’s leaderless, fluid, and unforgiving. No amount of political co-option has worked. These youth don’t want handouts; they want a system that works. They don’t want to be “used” as voting fodder. They want to be seen as citizens.
A tweet from a pseudonymous user during the height of protests summed it up best:
“Our parents feared the police. We fear not being heard.”
Kenya’s Identity Is Being Rewritten — In Real Time
Whether it’s the invention of “cousinship” between Kamba and GEMA, the decline of old-guard populism, or the fire of Gen Z activism, Kenya is shifting — culturally, politically, spiritually.
This moment is messy, loud, and uncomfortable. But it’s also necessary.
The real question is: Will our leaders rise to meet this new Kenya — or will they cling to the myths of the old one?
