Kenya’s history is rich with charged political homecomings — Kibaki in his wheelchair, Raila’s hashtag-fuelled returns, Matiba’s frailty turned into sacrifice. Rigathi Gachagua wants his moment to join that pantheon. But can he turn symbolism into substance in a country tired of theatrics?
In Kenya, the return of a political leader from abroad is rarely just a plane landing. It is theatre, symbolism and a test of political muscle. When Democratic Change Party (DCP) leader Rigathi Gachagua’s flight touched down at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport on Friday after weeks in the United States, his allies billed it as a moment of renewal. His rivals dismissed it as “a staged circus.” The public, meanwhile, scrolled through memes asking whether the deputy prime minister would be greeted like Raila Odinga, Mwai Kibaki, Uhuru Kenyatta or Kenneth Matiba — or whether his homecoming would vanish into the noise of daily struggle.
The shadow of history
History offers potent comparisons. Raila’s absences in the Uhuru Kenyatta years birthed the satirical hashtag #BabaWhileYouWereAway, as Kenyans contrasted his foreign trips with crises at home. Kibaki’s 2002 return in a wheelchair after a car accident turned frailty into resilience, galvanising his campaign. Uhuru’s periodic flights back from The Hague during the ICC trials were spun as acts of sovereignty, with supporters insisting that “Kenya itself was on trial.” And Matiba’s return from London treatment in the 1990s, frail yet defiant, was received as a testament to sacrifice in the struggle for democracy.
Each homecoming told a bigger story about the nation. The question now is whether Gachagua’s return carries similar resonance — or falls flat in an era of deep scepticism.
The wins abroad
In Washington, Gachagua worked hard to cut the figure of a statesman in waiting. His team trumpeted meetings with diaspora leaders, think-tanks, prayer breakfasts and Silicon Valley entrepreneurs as proof of international stature.
“Gachagua’s trip was about more than photo opportunities,” argued Dr Mercy Kuria, a Nairobi political analyst. “He is trying to reposition himself from a provincial strongman to an international player.”
The diaspora, whose remittances remain Kenya’s largest source of foreign exchange, welcomed the attention. In Boston, one attendee said: “For us in the diaspora, it matters who listens. Gachagua came, and he listened.”
Photos of the DCP leader smiling at Georgetown University and shaking hands in San Jose circulated online, shared by his camp with captions such as “A new chapter for Kenya.” For a politician long painted as abrasive and hyper-local, the imagery mattered.
The losses at home
But politics punishes absence. While Gachagua was networking abroad, rivals filled the vacuum with project launches, rallies and funerals. Cabinet colleagues burnished their visibility. Opposition MPs mocked his trip as vanity.
On X (formerly Twitter), one user quipped: “He left Kenya broke, came back with selfies. Is that leadership?” Another posted side-by-side images of Gachagua with US pastors and an empty Nyeri street, captioned: “Choose your congregation.”
Others revived the Raila-era satire with the hashtag #RiggyWhileYouWereAway. A viral thread listed rising food prices, job losses, and a collapsed matatu sacco — all during his absence. “Maybe next time take us along in your suitcase,” one commenter wrote.
His opponents smelled weakness. “Kenyans don’t eat photo ops in Washington,” scoffed ODM MP Babu Owino. “They want affordable unga.” A UDA governor, speaking off record, was sharper: “Politics here is local. Funerals, churches, weddings. If you are away too long, people forget you.”
The contrast with Raila’s returns is instructive: while Baba drew spontaneous crowds, Gachagua risks a reception that looks choreographed.
Theatre at the tarmac
Still, the choreography went ahead. As Gachagua’s entourage emerged at JKIA, supporters waved flags and sang church choruses reworked into campaign tunes. Banners declared “Riggy G, the people’s champion.” TV cameras lingered on the ululations, the sea of party colours, the frenzied handshakes.
“This is not just about him,” said Jane Wambui, a Murang’a trader who had travelled overnight. “It is about whether we finally have someone who can fight for us here and still speak for us abroad.”
But scepticism was never far. On TikTok, one user overlaid the airport footage with a sarcastic voiceover: “Breaking news: Man returns from America. Nothing else changes.” Another spliced Gachagua’s arrival with Kibaki’s wheelchair entry in 2002, captioned: “One symbolised resilience, the other symbolises ego.”
The symbolism of return
The power of political homecomings lies not in miles travelled but in the story they tell. Kibaki’s wheelchair became a metaphor for endurance. Uhuru’s ICC returns embodied sovereignty. Matiba’s frailty captured sacrifice. Raila’s hashtags reflected wit and resilience.
What story does Gachagua bring? Perhaps one of contested identity: the ambition of statesmanship abroad clashing with doubts of relevance at home.
Even within his camp, caution showed. A senior DCP official admitted privately: “If the crowds are thin, it will look bad. If the speeches fall flat, it will haunt him.”
Echoes of history, or a missed chance?
Kenya’s past shows how homecomings can be political inflection points. Kibaki rode his into State House. Matiba’s return cemented his moral authority. Raila used his to dramatise opposition politics. Uhuru spun his as defiance against external interference.
But Gachagua’s return may prove more ambiguous. Without clear wins to display — no major trade deal, no visible US endorsement — the symbolism risks slipping into spectacle. Yet if he harnesses the moment, turning it into renewed energy, it could help him carve space in a ruling coalition that has increasingly sidelined him.
For his supporters, Friday was about hope. “This is the start of his journey to the presidency,” insisted Peter Kihoro, a young DCP organiser in Nyeri. “The diaspora loves him, and soon the world will too.”
For critics, it was proof of tone-deafness. “People are worried about rent and school fees,” wrote one X user. “And our leaders are busy chasing clout abroad. Priorities upside down.”
A different Kenya
The deeper challenge for Gachagua may be that the country itself has changed. In the 1990s, Matiba’s frailty symbolised a broader national pain. In 2002, Kibaki’s return embodied collective hope. Even Raila’s hashtag era carried humour and solidarity. Today, however, Kenyans are more jaded, more cynical, less patient with political theatre. The weight of inflation, unemployment and corruption scandals has dulled the appetite for spectacle.
“Kenyans now want substance, not symbolism,” says Wanjiru Gikonyo, a governance activist. “A grand return might have worked in the past, but in 2025, with so much economic pain, people just ask: what difference will it make to my life?”
On TikTok, a viral skit showed a boda boda rider watching Gachagua’s arrival on TV. “So, unga will be cheaper now?” he asked his passenger. “No,” came the reply. “Then keep riding.”
That, perhaps, is the real risk. For all the flags, ululations and speeches, the homecoming may not resonate in the way its organisers hoped. History will decide whether it was the rebirth of a sidelined leader, or the hollow echo of a tradition whose power is fading.
For now, as one Nairobi taxi driver put it: “If people really believe in him, they will come. If not, all the airport flags in the world won’t save him.”
