Saints in Power, Sinners at Heart

Oh, what a fall it has been from the mountaintop of righteousness to the valley of shadows and shame! When Rigathi Gachagua and William Ruto rode triumphantly into power, Bibles in hand, halos practically hovering above their heads, Kenyans were promised a new dawn, a leadership that would restore the moral fabric of the nation. With the grandiosity of televangelists, they stood side by side, shunning the drunkard Uhuru Kenyatta, who they said was leading the country to ruin while staggering his way through leadership. They would save Kenya, one prayer session at a time, lifting the country from the muck of corruption, waste, and dishonour. Alas, the mighty fall harder than most, and the tales told in churches do not always translate into the reality of governance.

Rigathi Gachagua, once seated comfortably in the high places of the Deputy Presidency, now finds himself ousted: cast aside, impeached in absentia, no less. The once invincible man of the people, now plagued by accusations of corruption and ethnic division, was not even present to witness his own political execution. It’s almost poetic in the way that fire and brimstone rained down upon his political aspirations, though this time, the thunder was not divine but parliamentary. No amount of scripture could save him from the almighty vote, as 281 lawmakers cast their ballots in favour of his removal as a Biblical judgment passed on Sodom and Gomorrah.

Is this not what the ‘drunkard’ Kenyatta had warned us about? With a wine glass, Uhuru spoke to Kenyans like the prodigal father. “Beware of these men,” he said, “for their suits may be clean, their words gilded with scripture, but beneath lies a thirst for power that no communion wine can quench.” The same man that Ruto and Gachagua mocked for his apparent intoxication seemed to have seen the future with the clarity of a prophet. But back then, no one listened. Why would they? The ‘drunkard’ had already fallen from grace. His successor had been chosen; a man who stood tall on the platform of piety and development. How naïve we were to believe that the pulpit could translate into the podium of statecraft.

Yet here we are, and what a spectacle it is! The impeachment of Rigathi Gachagua has peeled back the veneer of holiness that once cloaked the current administration. After all, the so-called men of God have revealed themselves to be mere mortals, susceptible to the same sins they once preached against. How quickly the moral high ground becomes a slippery slope when it’s steeped in hypocrisy. The “good men of the Bible” have cast aside their religious pretensions, now seemingly more preoccupied with saving their skins than saving souls. The prayers once offered for the nation now seem hollow, echoing off the high walls of parliament as the reality of broken promises set in.

But let us not forget the rise before the fall. When Ruto and Gachagua stood hand in hand, singing the praises of righteousness, they promised a different Kenya. They painted Uhuru Kenyatta as a feckless leader, incapable of governing with a sober mind. “Behold, the drunkard!” they cried. “He will lead us astray!” And so, the people believed. The churches rang with hallelujahs, the streets buzzed with anticipation, and the coalition of saints took the wheel. For a while, it seemed like the two were actually driving the car. Taxes rose, yes, but so did the rhetoric. Court rulings were ignored, and all the while, the Bible was ever-present, ready to be pulled out during political rallies like a sword of moral authority. Oh, how quickly the Word was discarded once it became clear that the demands of governance did not align with those lofty promises.

And then, the country witnessed what can only be described as a divine twist of fate. The very people who put their trust in the godly duo soon found themselves betrayed. Corruption levels surged, taxes reached dizzying heights, and protests shook the land. And who led those protests? Why, none other than the generation that the saints had promised to uplift. The Gen Z protestors, fists in the air, stormed the hallowed halls of parliament, their anger directed squarely at the government that had failed them. The protests rattled the administration, exposing the deep fractures within the presidency itself. Ruto, ever the pragmatist, took a hardline approach, calling for the prosecution of the "thugs" involved in the protests. Meanwhile, Gachagua, in a rare moment of political agility, sought to present himself as the voice of reason, a sympathetic ear for the masses. Yet, even his supposed empathy could not save him from the tidal wave of discontent.

The Bible, once brandished as the cornerstone of their administration, had been cast aside. The moral compass they once clutched so tightly now lay shattered, its pieces scattered among the ruins of their failed promises. And so, the impeachment of Rigathi Gachagua became a symbol, not just of one man's fall from grace but of the collapse of a moral façade that had been carefully constructed to win the people's hearts. His removal from office is not just a political manoeuvre; it is a public unmasking, a revelation that the men who claimed to be guided by scripture were, in fact, no different from the politicians they once decried.

Oh, how the drunkard laughs now! For in his intoxication, he saw the truth. Uhuru Kenyatta, mocked for his supposed love of the bottle, knew all along what kind of leaders the righteous men would become. The man once dismissed as a drunken fool now stands vindicated as his warnings come to pass. Even in his inebriation, he managed to guide the country through turbulent times with a steady hand, working with Ruto even when their relationship soured. He tolerated the chaos of their partnership, maintained a semblance of national unity, and kept Kenya afloat amidst the storm. And now, as the country grapples with the fallout of Ruto and Gachagua's disastrous leadership, many Kenyans look back on Kenyatta's tenure with something akin to nostalgia.

It’s a bitter irony, isn’t it? That the man they dismissed as unfit for leadership, a liability to the nation, has turned out to be far more competent than the self-proclaimed men of God who succeeded him. Perhaps there is a lesson here, buried beneath the political rubble and broken promises. Maybe, just maybe, the moral character of a leader is not measured by how many Bible verses they can quote at a rally but by their ability to serve the people with humility, patience, and honesty, even if that service is delivered with a drink in hand.

And so, as Rigathi Gachagua exits the political stage, impeached and disgraced, the question lingers: who will save Kenya now? Not the saints, it seems. For they have shown themselves to be all too human. Maybe the answer lies with another kind of leader, one who doesn’t need to pretend to be perfect but who can at least admit their flaws and still serve the country with integrity. Perhaps it’s time for Kenya to listen to the ‘drunkard’. After all, he might have been tipsy, but at least he was right.