Life. Seasoned with perspective.
“A childhood memory from a school visiting day becomes a lens for reflecting on power, ambition, and the contradictions of a larger-than-life political figure. The story explores what legacy really means beyond spectacle and status.”
It is a normal visiting day at St Peters Mumias Boys Primary School, and yours truly is in high spirits. Boarding life is not easy, especially when you join early. Beyond the occasional bullying, there is the food that barely survives the description of a meal. Visiting day is different. Today, my mum is coming. Famous for her layered chapatis, she brings with her the feeling of home, even if only for a few minutes.
It is 9.30 in the morning and parents begin streaming in. Some arrive on foot, others on boda bodas, which are common in that part of the country, and a few in cars. It is a quiet display of who we are as a society. One school, many backgrounds. My mum, a teacher at St Anne’s Girls Primary School nearby, lives within the school precincts, which means she arrives early. That feeling alone is priceless. But this is not her story today.
A few moments into my well deserved feast of chapati and chicken, the school suddenly goes quiet. Five brand new Isuzu TFR pickups drive into the compound in a neat convoy. Everything stops. Parents are ignored. We edge closer to see what is happening.
Ladies and gentlemen, the Jirongo family has arrived.
They pitch a tent at the edge of the football field and set up a full buffet for their son, who happens to be my classmate. Pure spectacle. Pure opulence. Then comes the part that lives rent free in my memory. The son, still in primary school, is allowed to drive one of the pickups around the compound. At that age, these were scenes we could only imagine, or dream about.
Let me pause there for a moment.
Cyrus Shakhalaga Khwa Jirongo.
On Saturday the thirteenth, I woke up and instinctively checked my phone. News filtered in quickly. CJ, as he was popularly known, was no more. Confirmation followed. A grisly road accident at Karai in Naivasha, a head on collision with a bus at three in the morning. He died on the spot. I extend my condolences to his family, friends, and the political fraternity where he left a deep imprint.
Every life carries lessons. Love him or hate him, CJ was not your normal politician. Growing up in Western Kenya, politics is not background noise. It is part of the air we breathe. CJ was always at the centre of it. Born in Hamisi, Vihiga County, he later moved to Lugari in Kakamega County, nearly one hundred kilometres away. That region became his political home until his death. He served as a Cabinet minister under the late President Daniel Arap Moi and represented Lugari Constituency as Member of Parliament for ten years.
At the time of that school spectacle, CJ was heading YK92, a group of young political operatives campaigning for President Moi during the first multiparty elections. The stakes were high. The stories around his role are many. One of the most enduring symbols from that era was the introduction of the five hundred shilling note, nicknamed Jirongo. He lived flamboyantly, distributed cash openly, drove luxury cars, and embraced excess without apology.
But what truly defined him was resilience. Many of his business ventures collapsed under controversy. Many times he fell, and many times he bounced back. In Western Kenya, he earned the reputation of a man with nine lives.
CJ never hid his polygamy. In fact, he joked about it. He once said he could not choose among his lovers and decided to embrace all of them. He had four wives from different Kenyan communities and humorously described it as national unity. What was unusual is that the family lived together in one compound and even shared a school bus for the children.
His relationship with President William Ruto was complex. He mentored a young Ruto into politics during the YK92 era and famously referred to him as mtu wa mkono, a messenger. Later, they fell out and stood on opposite sides of the political divide. At times, their exchanges were sharp. Yet at his passing, the President issued a warm tribute. It is worth noting that CJ congratulated President Ruto after the 2022 election. From the many tributes shared, one thing stands out. CJ did not hold grudges.
Beyond politics, CJ also chaired AFC Leopards Football Club in 1991. Within the Luhya community, that role carries cultural weight. It placed him firmly in both political and social history.
As I reflect, I realise something simple. CJ lived loudly. He took risks. He failed publicly. He succeeded publicly. And he never pretended to be small.
That visiting day taught me a lesson I did not understand then, but appreciate now. Life is not about fitting into a safe mould. It is about daring to live fully, owning your choices, and standing by them.
Rest in peace, CJ. Your story remains a reminder that impact is not measured by perfection, but by presence.
About the author
Kibisu Mulanda is a media executive and strategic communicator with over 20 years of experience in television, NGO storytelling, and youth-focused content. He is the Acting Head of Switch Media Ltd and teaches media at the Kenya Institute of Mass Communication. A Certified SIYB Trainer, he blends storytelling with strategy to drive social impact.
About the Author
