Min Piny: the King piece in the chessboard

I watched Raila Odinga- the Enigma’s funeral, and I couldn’t help wondering who among his family might step into his shoes.

Those are big shoes, carved by history, burdened by expectation, burnished by pain. I know it’s not time to think of succession yet, but my mind and eyes couldn’t help wandering across the family line, searching for signs: a gesture, a look, a spark that might hint at that.

I looked at Winnie and saw that familiar fire, the same that once lit stadiums and unsettled governments. It’s a fire that doesn’t beg for attention; it commands it. There’s something perilous and magnetic about her; something rebellious, tactical, wise, and just a little terrifying to those who prefer predictability. I half expected her to go off-cuff in her remarks, maybe shake the solemnity with something raw and real. But today, she was just Raila’s little girl, restrained, respectful, perhaps still walking that fine line between grief and destiny.

Rosemary, quiet and contemplative, also stood on the podium to eulogize her father. Her speech lacked vigor, yes, but grief and illness soften even the strongest voices. I’ll give her that grace. Some people burn bright in public; others carry their strength in silence.

Then there’s Raila Junior, calm and deliberate, carrying himself like the quiet gentleman of the home. I think he can do it, though not in the same way as his father. He’s not made for the rallies or the roar of the crowd. He’s a behind-the-scenes kind of man: technical and composed. The kind who fixes what’s broken instead of shouting about it. The kind his mother is proud of because his strength lies in stability, not spectacle.

And then Oburu, always the brother in the background, perhaps content with his role as the steady shadow. He doesn’t seek the light, and maybe, after all these years, he understands that the shadow too has its purpose. Still, I can’t place a finger on how ODM’s dynamics are going to play out now that he replaces his brother as party chair.

But the person who held my attention the most was Min Piny, Ida Odinga. You can’t break someone who’s already been tested by the fires of fate and politics. Her poise today was not performance. It was a language of quiet authority wrapped in grace. You could see decades of resilience in the stillness of her face, the measured pace of her walk, the calm in her eyes, and the steady firmness of her voice. She has buried kith and kin, endured arrests, faced the loneliness of being the wife of a man the State feared, and yet she remains unshaken, forgiving even.

Read also: The Mercurial Baba and his many Chameleon faces

If this family were a chessboard, she is the king piece. Not because she moves the fastest or strikes the hardest, but because the entire board revolves around her presence. Every strategy, every move, every sacrifice has been made with her endurance in mind. She is the one whose calm steadies the rest, whose silence speaks when words would fail.

And as the crowd sang farewell to the Enigma, my gaze kept returning to her, standing there, dignified and still, the weight of legacy resting quietly on her shoulders.

Maybe that’s where the story of succession truly begins, not in speeches or titles, but in the quiet strength of those who keep the flame burning when the world falls silent.

Harriet Nesoba

+ postsBio

This author does not have any more posts.