The Reinvention Of A Political Impostor: Rigathi Gachagua’s Desperate Bid For Relevance

 By Fwamba NC Fwamba

Rigathi Gachagua’s recent interview on KTN was not a moment of honest reflection—it was a pitiful performance, steeped in desperation rather than principle. It was the spectacle of a man grasping at the shards of a broken political career, stripped of influence, trying to rebrand himself as a symbol of integrity. His sudden embrace of “truth-telling” is neither courageous nor sincere. It is opportunistic—carefully calculated to salvage relevance after a disgraceful fall from the very regime he once served with fanatical loyalty.

When Gachagua wielded real power, he was not just complicit in repression—he was vocal and proud about it. At the height of his authority, he declared that there would be no demonstrations in the country, a proclamation that flew in the face of Article 37 of the Constitution of Kenya (2010), which guarantees every person “the right, peaceably and unarmed, to assemble, to demonstrate, to picket, and to present petitions to public authorities.” This was not a misstep. It was a conscious defiance of constitutional freedoms.

In the corridors of power, Gachagua had no appetite for reform, no voice for accountability, and no courage to confront the very rot he now so conveniently decries. He had nothing to say when his voice could have made a difference. But now, sidelined by the same political machinery that once enabled him, he seeks to posture as a prophet of virtue. The irony is not only thick—it is insulting.

Gachagua’s politics have never been about national unity or transformative leadership. His strategy has always hinged on tribal arithmetic, ethnic tokenism, and fear-mongering. He weaponized identity—not to uplift his community—but to climb the greasy pole of political survival. His record speaks for itself: one of division, not unity; entitlement, not service. And yet, today, with his back against the wall, he preaches cohesion and inclusion. This is not the evolution of a leader—it is hypocrisy dressed in patriotic robes.

Even more disingenuous is his recent characterization of the very administration he loyally served as “toxic.” If the government was as rotten as he now claims, where was his moral outrage then? Why didn’t he resign in protest? Why did he fight tooth and nail to remain in office? The answer is simple: Gachagua was addicted to power. His loyalty was never to the people of Kenya—it was to the perks, the privilege, and the patronage. His newfound “truth” only emerged after those comforts were taken away.

Together with Justin Muturi, Gachagua formed a tragic duo of spineless public figures—men who could neither walk away when their conscience should have compelled them, nor speak out when duty demanded it. One had to be impeached; the other was unceremoniously discarded. Neither resigned. These were not acts of courage but of cowardice. These are not men of conviction but of convenience—political weathervanes who turn with the winds of self-preservation.

Now in the political cold, they seek to mask bitterness as bravery. Their so-called “truths” are not revelations. They are lamentations. This is not accountability—it is a tantrum by men denied access to the levers of power. It is the classic tale of disgraced insiders dressing up their fall as a moral epiphany. The Kenyan public must not be fooled.

Perhaps the most audacious twist in Gachagua’s reinvention is his sudden alignment with Moses Kuria—the very man he once vilified. In one of his most venomous public declarations, Gachagua warned: “Usiguze Mrima,” but celebrated Kuria’s Cabinet ouster and even publicly thanked the president for retaining the other “Mrima” Cabinet Secretaries other than Moses Kuria whom he had in the past publicly complained about not respecting his supposed kingpin authority. Today, that speech is conveniently brushed aside as he postures as Kuria’s defender. This is not political reconciliation—it is revisionism. A calculated effort to rewrite history in real-time and an insult to the intelligence of the Kenyan people.

Rigathi Gachagua is not a martyr. He is not a reformist. He is not a truth-teller. He is a charlatan—an actor on a stage that no longer exists. His outrage is rehearsed. His confessions are contrived. That interview was not for Kenyans—it was a score to settle after his unceremonious exit. His invocation of the Constitution to justify his eligibility to run again—despite the Senate’s impeachment verdict of October 17, 2024—is a pitiful distortion. Under Article 75 of the Constitution, any public officer who has been impeached is barred from seeking public office for a period of ten years. The mischief rule applies here: the intent of the provision is clear—impeachment carries a disqualification from public office. The purposive rule further affirms that this is to ensure the integrity of public officeholders. Unless overturned by the Supreme Court, Gachagua remains ineligible to run for public office.

Judgment: Impostor. Rigathi Gachagua is a political impostor—posing as a champion of values he never upheld, banking on public amnesia and misplaced forgiveness. But Kenya deserves better. The country deserves leaders who speak truth when it is dangerous, not when it is convenient; who lead when they have power, not just when they’ve lost it. Gachagua’s anger and bitterness cannot sanitize him, for this is one man all Kenyans know the bad things he is capable of doing while in a position of influence, because we saw him and we know him.

Fwamba NC Fwamba is the Chairman of the National Alternative Leadership Forum