When Anita Barasa recorded her video on June 18 last year, she wasn’t chasing likes. She wasn’t even addressing her thousands of TikTok followers. Her words, shaky but sure, were for one man: Raila Odinga.
“Agwambo, this is a message to you. Don’t come,” she said, placing her palm on her chest. “We’ll take it from here.”
Barasa, 19, a self-described “lastborn” of the veteran opposition leader, was stepping into her own. Like many of her peers, she was swept up in a leaderless uprising that began online but soon filled the streets—sparked by the controversial 2024 Finance Bill, but fuelled by years of frustration.
Within days, the movement had its first martyr: 22-year-old Rex Masai, killed during a peaceful protest. His death galvanised the youth. But their trust, long strained, was tested again—this time by the very leaders they once believed in.
A Movement Hijacked?
At the heart of Gen Z’s rebellion was the idea that no politician, no matter how seasoned, could speak for them. So when Raila Odinga, once the face of resistance, appeared to embrace President William Ruto’s government under the banner of “dialogue”, the backlash was swift.
“What are you discussing?” Barasa asked in a now-viral clip. “People are dying, and you’re negotiating cabinet seats?”
Indeed, Raila’s allies were soon rewarded: five secured cabinet roles, others landed senior government jobs. Meanwhile, the youth watched the cause they bled for co-opted and rebranded as political diplomacy.
Raila has defended his decision. “We cannot burn the country down to achieve change,” he said in August. “Dialogue is the way forward.”
But to Barasa and others on the ground, it felt like betrayal.
A New Political Class?
Some within the movement tried to formalise their push for change. There was even talk of launching a Gen Z-led party. That sparked internal debate. Was this pragmatic or opportunistic?
“It wasn’t about ego,” Barasa told The Standard. “It was about structure, about survival. You can’t organise protests forever without some kind of system.”
Still, accusations of ‘hijacking’ the leaderless movement soon followed. Others, like activist Alans Ademba, remained deeply sceptical of any shift toward mainstream politics.
“Raila is a broker,” he said bluntly. “He sold us out. And with him, so did the promise of change.”
Ademba, who says he watched friends die during protests, refuses to forgive those he believes traded justice for power.
Political Defections and Broken Promises
Some Gen Z activists have since aligned with established political camps. Kasmuel McOure joined Raila’s ODM. Billy Mwangi, once abducted for mocking the President, has gravitated toward former Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua.
Their choices drew fire online. But Barasa is more measured.
“If you’re getting into politics to push change, fine. Just don’t lose your voice once you’re in,” she said.
What stings more, she says, is the silence from MPs. On 25 June 2024, despite widespread opposition, they passed the Finance Bill. Teargas still lingered outside Parliament from earlier protests. Inside, lawmakers barely flinched.
Only after the backlash—and President Ruto’s dramatic U-turn—did some express remorse. Nakuru MP David Gikaria wore a T-shirt saying, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
But their apologies felt hollow. Less than 24 hours later, those same MPs approved the deployment of military forces against civilians.
Blood on the Tarmac
Over 60 people were killed during the protests, most of them young. Many were shot at close range. No arrests. No accountability.
And yet, Ruto praised the police, calling protesters “organised criminals.”
“To call someone you shot a criminal is cruel,” said Ademba. “What we needed was justice—not bullets.”
Youth unemployment still hovers near 67 per cent. Small businesses are collapsing. Bread and milk, once affordable, are now luxuries. Kenyans feel squeezed, unheard, expendable.
“Ruto promised jobs, but we got debt,” said Professor Gitile Naituli, a governance expert.
Nerima Wako, director of civic group Siasa Place, says the handshake between Ruto and Raila buried reform. “Gen Z wants something new. They reject tokenism, recycled leaders, and staged alliances.”
The Fire Still Burns
Even with defections, detentions, and broken bones, the movement lives on—if quieter now.
In nightclubs, chants of “Ruto Must Go” still break out between songs. Flags still wave at candlelit vigils. And new faces keep joining.
Barasa remains hopeful. “Change won’t be easy, but we’re not done,” she said. “We’re not just fighting for today. We’re fighting for the country we deserve.”
The protests may have quieted. But the silence, at least for now, is only temporary.
