Among the Somali people, as among the Igbo society immortalised by Chinua Achebe, proverbs are not casual decorations of speech; they are the palm oil with which words are eaten.
They carry wisdom, soften difficult truths and allow leaders, elders and public speakers to communicate with elegance where direct language may sound harsh or inflammatory.
Achebe’s famous line in his 1958 classic, Things Fall Apart, has travelled across cultures because it captures an African truth: that language is never merely literal. It is layered with memory, metaphor, restraint and communal intelligence.
Health CS Aden Duale addressing residents of Lafey. TIt is within this cultural and literary context that the Health Cabinet Secretary Aden Duale’s recent use of a Somali proverb in Mandera county should be understood. The comment has attracted criticism, some of it loud and politically convenient, but much of the reaction appears detached from the tradition from which the expression emerged.
Duale’s public speaking style has long been marked by proverbs, anecdotes, religious references, traditional songs and political metaphors. Whether addressing local barazas, national rallies, parliamentary gatherings, or faith-based audiences, he has consistently used his community's language to convey layered messages to his listeners.
Duale is a student of Kenya’s political theatre. He has observed, learned from, and served alongside some of the country’s most influential figures: former Prime MinisterRaila Odinga, Presidents Mwai Kibaki, Uhuru Kenyatta, and now William Ruto.
Like Achebe’s young calf that watches its mother while grazing, he has watched the masters of Kenyan politics use idiom, humour, imagery, ridicule, parable and metaphor to move crowds and frame opponents.
Raila’s famous “kitendawili” became a political trademark. Uhuru, in his own direct and colourful outburst style, once spoke of a hyena waiting for a human hand to fall, which is a well-known political metaphor in February 2020 during rallies in Nyandarua, Kinangop and Ol Kalou, lamenting that political allies and emissaries had turned into “hyenas” seeking self-enrichment rather than helping him deliver development. Such phrases were widely understood as political metaphors, not zoological descriptions.
The question, therefore, is straightforward: why should a metaphor used in English by a sitting president be treated as normal political speech, yet a similar metaphor rendered in Somali by a CS among his own community suddenly be elevated into an offence? If the word “hyena” can be accepted as figurative language in one political setting, then intellectual fairness demands that the same interpretive standard be applied when the same image is expressed in another language.
Translation should not become a trap. Cultural language should not be criminalised merely because it is unfamiliar to those listening from outside that culture.
In Somali society, proverbs perform an important social duty. They make communication smoother, more respectful and more enjoyable. They enable a speaker to criticise without being crude, to warn without shouting and to educate without humiliating.
As Achebe reminded us, proverbs make words easy and tasteful to swallow, just as palm oil softens dry food. In the Somali oral tradition, wisdom is often carried through images of animals, seasons, journeys, family, livestock, weather and survival.
To isolate one image from that whole tradition and interpret it through the narrowest possible political lens is to misunderstand both the speaker and the culture.
Like Igbo culture, Somali culture deeply values skilled, restrained and polite speech. A respected speaker is not the one who merely shouts the loudest, but the one who can carry a difficult message with dignity and precision.
Wise sayings ease tension, settle arguments and transmit deep truths with grace. They also connect people. Just as food sustains the body, meaningful conversation sustains the community.
In many African societies, speech is not only a tool of expression; it is an instrument of leadership, reconciliation, persuasion, and identity.
That is why the rush to condemn Duale’s statement as hate speech appears politically selective and culturally shallow. Kenya’s political history is saturated with metaphor. Leaders have compared opponents to animals, storms, rivers, beds, bridges, mountains and collapsing houses.
These images are rarely taken literally when spoken by powerful national figures in English or Kiswahili. Yet when a Somali expression is used before a Somali audience, some critics suddenly pretend that metaphor does not exist.
Such inconsistency raises legitimate questions about whether the outrage is rooted in principle or in political convenience.
Therefore, the attempt by sections of the opposition and even some high-level figures within the Kenya Kwanza administration to frame the remark as hate speech is misplaced.
It reflects selective amnesia about the language of Kenyan politics and a failure to appreciate the cultural setting in which the words were spoken. Political accountability is necessary, and public leaders must always speak responsibly.
But responsibility also requires critics to interpret words honestly, contextually, and consistently.
Duale’s proverb should be read not as an isolated insult, but as part of a long African tradition in which public speech relies on imagery, rhythm and inherited wisdom.
To strip such language of its cultural meaning is to flatten African political communication into sterile literalism.
Worse, it risks turning indigenous expression into a liability while treating imported or dominant languages as more legitimate. That should concern anyone who believes Kenya’s diversity is a strength rather than a problem.
In the end, the debate is bigger than one proverb or one politician. It is about whether Kenya can interpret its many languages with fairness, maturity and cultural intelligence.
If proverbs are indeed the palm oil with which words are eaten, then we must be careful not to mistake the oil for poison simply because it is served in a language we do not fully understand.
Duale’s metaphor belongs to that broader African tradition of coded wisdom. It deserves context, not convenient condemnation.
The writer is a senior presidential adviser
