OBUCHUNJU: Who inherits Raila’s burden for survivors?

Earlier this year, in a planning meeting for the International Day for the Right to the Truth, we faced a question that went beyond programme logistics, because we needed a figure who could stand before survivors of post-election sexual violence and historical state violations, survivors who still seek recognition, medical support, compensation, and truth, and give them hope.

When a grassroots representative said we should invite Raila Odinga, the room paused. Some of us believed he had turned away from that struggle; others argued that a country that avoids its past must, at times, turn to the leaders who once carried its hardest truths.

The invitation went out, and Raila responded through Senator Edwin Sifuna. He affirmed that the fight for survivors must continue. In doing so, he reminded us of his own words that human rights abuse in Kenya did not begin with our time and did not end with our progress.

He maintained that at every moment of national darkness there exists a small group willing to stand up against power, and he placed survivors among those who refuse silence and still demand dignity, truth, and accountability from the state.

I have taken time to write this because his words on that day keep returning to me. I needed space to sit with the memory of a leader who spoke of a small group that stands when power harms, who knew that fighting for rights isolates and exposes us, and who reminded us that eternal vigilance is the only real defense of dignity and life.

In his absence, the silence around many survivors I have spoken to feels heavier; the distance between state promises and lived accountability feels wider; and the question of who will step into that space is no longer theoretical. Raila carried a part of this burden in public and in struggle, and now that weight sits with those who remain.

Baba did not secure full reparations for survivors; he did not deliver final closure for those who were harmed in the fires of political conflict. Yet, he accepted survivors into political space when others avoided them. He broke the polite, political consensus of silence.

I have been wondering for days now, after Raila’s demise, who will walk with survivors now that he is gone? Who will stand beside victims of enforced disappearances, extrajudicial killings, sexual violence, torture, and historical land injustice? Who will go beyond statements and sit with families that still search for truth, and who will carry the work he described when he said that eternal vigilance is the answer? Who will show us that protecting a constitutional system starts with courage from those who believe in it?

The ‘handshake’ between the former premier and President William Ruto produced a ten-point agenda which placed national healing, institutional reform, and truth-based reconciliation on the table as a shared commitment, and its promise offered survivors a signal that Kenya could confront violence through structured dialogue, reparative efforts, and accountability measures grounded in constitutional duty.

I will not conclude that this agenda now hangs in uncertainty, because doing so risks turning it into a symbolic footnote instead of a living obligation, yet full implementation is not optional, and the urgency cannot be deferred to another season or another administration.

The holders of this ten-point agenda must remember that survivors continue to wait in court corridors, clinic queues, community gatherings, and advocacy spaces where pain is carried without state recognition, and a country seeking durable peace cannot claim stability while leaving those harmed in the very process of securing that peace outside the boundaries of justice.

The challenge now rests squarely with the current leadership, in both government and the opposition, to prove that their commitment to a stable Kenya is about the human dignity that underpins any true, lasting stability. They must choose to inherit the hard, lonely work of justice, or risk consigning Raila’s words to the archives of beautiful, but ultimately empty, rhetoric.