The Wave and the Vessel: Sifuna’s Movement, and the Men Building Boats on It

By Kasembeli Albert

In every political wave, there is a moment when the crowd’s chant becomes louder than the man who inspired it. That moment has arrived for Edwin Sifuna.

The Nairobi Senator’s “Mimi Ndio Sifuna” slogan, a simple self-introduction that mutated into a collective identity, has become the most potent opposition rallying cry since the death of Raila Odinga. By early 2026, supporters had adopted it as their own: “Sisi Ndio Sifuna.” The phrase no longer belonged to one man. It belonged to a movement.

And that, precisely, is the problem.

When a political wave grows bigger than the individual who created it, the question shifts from whether the wave is powerful to who controls the boat that will carry it into 2027. The past three weeks have offered a case study in how quickly a movement’s emotional energy can be converted into other people’s political architecture, or alternatively, how normal democratic competition can be mistaken for conspiracy.

The Making of a Movement

The distinction between a slogan created by a politician and one adopted by the public is not merely semantic. It is the difference between a campaign and a phenomenon.

“Babu Kwa Sababu” is a slogan. It is effective, it is branded, and it belongs to Embakasi East MP Babu Owino. “Mimi Ndio Sifuna” became something else entirely, a declaration of political identity that tens of thousands of young Kenyans have claimed as their own. As Sifuna himself acknowledged in February, the slogan gave him confidence: “When Kenyans said ‘Sisi Ndio Sifuna,’ I felt safe. I know we are many, and there is power in numbers.”

That is the language of a movement, not a campaign. Movements are appropriated by the public. Campaigns are managed by professionals. The Sifuna wave, for better or worse, has been appropriated.

The Vehicle Problem

Political waves do not win elections. Political vehicles do.

A slogan can fill a stadium. A movement can dominate social media. But an election requires a party, a nomination, a structure, a ballot line. And that is where the Linda Mwananchi movement has run into the oldest obstacle in Kenyan opposition politics: the scramble for the vehicle.

The facts are now well-documented. Babu Owino has established The Mwananchi Party – formerly the Muungano Party associated with Kivutha Kibwana – as his political vehicle for a 2027 Nairobi gubernatorial bid. Sifuna and Trans Nzoia Governor George Natembeya had been pursuing the Ukombozi People’s Party through a rebranding of the United Democratic Party. On September 8, the Registrar of Political Parties rejected that bid, citing the similarity of the name to The Ukombozi Alliance, which had already been reserved by another applicant.

Then, on September 21, Kalonzo Musyoka announced that Azimio la Umoja One Kenya Coalition had rebranded as the Ukombozi Alliance, with former President Uhuru Kenyatta as chair. The timing was not coincidental. The Sifuna camp had been exploring the Ukombozi identity. Kalonzo’s coalition adopted it. The Registrar had already refused UDP’s attempt to use the name.

The effect is unmistakable: the Sifuna wave, which had generated enormous emotional energy, was now being boxed in on the vehicle question from multiple directions.

Deceit or Democracy?

The temptation is to frame these developments as a coordinated effort to dilute Sifuna’s movement. The evidence, however, is more ambiguous, and more interesting.

Babu Owino has consistently and publicly maintained his support for Sifuna’s presidential ambitions. “Sifuna will be party leader of Ukombozi People’s Party. Babu, party leader as well, of the Mwananchi Party. Do you agree or not?” he told mourners in Nyakach on September 18, proposing a coalition between the two parties. He met Sifuna on September 15, and according to his account, Sifuna raised no objection to both of them holding party leadership positions.

Natembeya has been among the most vocal supporters of Sifuna’s presidential bid, even as he pushed Ukombozi as the vehicle. Siaya Governor James Orengo announced his own presidential interest, but has since said he is committed to a single Linda Mwananchi candidate.

Vihiga Senator Godfrey Osotsi has dismissed talk of division, insisting the movement remains united and accusing state operatives of fuelling infighting: “Hawa vijana wote wanaongea na sauti moja – Babu Owino, Sifuna na Orengo – sisi tuko kitu kimoja.”

But that is the public face. Behind it, there is a “toxic internal struggle over who owns its popularity, who controls its structures and who has the authority to determine its direction.” The aftermath of the September 13 Jacaranda rally saw supporters of Sifuna and Babu clash online over who deserved credit for the crowds, a fight over political ownership, not ideology.

Political scholars have severally warned that in history, movements do not die at the hands of their enemies; they die when their custodians mistake the crowd’s chants for their own names.”

The Architecture of Ambition

What is unfolding is not necessarily a conspiracy. It may be something more mundane and more dangerous: the normal operation of political ambition in a vacuum of leadership.

Raila Odinga’s death in October 2025 left a void that no single figure has filled. The ODM coalition agreement with Ruto’s administration, which Sifuna has consistently opposed, arguing it was never part of the original memorandum, created a split within the party’s own ranks. Sifuna was removed as Secretary General; he challenged the ouster in court and won a reprieve. But his position within ODM was replaced.

Into this vacuum stepped a wave. And into the wave stepped every politician with an ambition and a vehicle.

Prof. Gitile Naituli, a leadership scholar, described the friction as “sibling rivalry” driven by “primitive jealousy,” but dismissed the notion that President Ruto was pulling strings: “That one I doubt… I don’t believe [Babu] will be compromised in order to undermine his friends.”

Prof. Peter Kagwanja placed the struggle in a broader context: the fight over Raila’s political inheritance. “The disintegration started from within the Odinga family. Then it moved to its loyalists… And it is now beginning to acquire another dimension.”

That dimension is the conversion of a movement into multiple vehicles, each with its own driver.

The Saturation Problem

There is a greater danger that neither conspiracy nor competition fully captures: political saturation.

When a slogan is repeated endlessly, when every politician begins using the same language, and when multiple actors claim ownership of the same energy, the original message loses its distinctiveness. The wave becomes familiar. The excitement fades. The movement becomes ordinary.

This is not a hypothetical risk. It is the predictable outcome of a political environment in which everyone wants to be associated with a winning brand, but no one wants to subordinate their personal ambition to a collective structure.

The irony is acute. The very people attempting to associate themselves with Sifuna’s success may be contributing to its dilution. The wave that made Sifuna a national figure is now being navigated by so many boats that it risks losing its direction.

The Tutam Contrast

On the other side of the political divide, the contrast is instructive.

President William Ruto’s “Tutam” campaign – shorthand for a second term – has become the organising principle for the government’s 2027 efforts. It is a simpler message. It does not require a movement. It requires a machine.

Ruto has been building that machine methodically: a KSh3,000 monthly stipend for village elders, smartphones, health insurance, training. The ODM faction aligned with the government has made clear it will not field a presidential candidate, opting instead to support Ruto’s re-election.

The contrast is not merely between government and opposition. It is between coherence and fragmentation. A fragmented opposition can have many popular personalities and still struggle to translate that popularity into one coordinated national project. A governing side can face dissatisfaction and still benefit from organisational coherence.

The Question for Sifuna

For Edwin Sifuna, the challenge is bigger than protecting a slogan. The real challenge is converting the emotional power of “Mimi Ndio Sifuna” into political architecture.

Can the movement remain bigger than individual politicians? Can Linda Mwananchi become an organisational structure rather than merely a rallying cry? Can Sifuna maintain his relationship with the people who adopted his name as their political identity while navigating politicians with their own parties, ambitions and constituencies?

The evidence so far suggests he is trying. The plan, as articulated by Linda Mwananchi deputy spokesperson Titus Makhanu, is to unveil a party in October and explore a coalition arrangement that allows different parties to retain their identities while working under a common platform. The Political Parties Disputes Tribunal is expected to rule on September 30 on the dispute over the Linda name. Sifuna is expected to unveil his vehicle on October 3.

But the clock is ticking, and the vehicle options are narrowing.

The Wave Is Not the Vessel

The story unfolding around Sifuna, Babu, Kalonzo, Natembeya, Orengo and Ruto illustrates something fundamental about Kenyan politics.

A slogan can start a movement. A movement can create political momentum. But momentum alone does not create political power. Power requires organisation. It requires structures. It requires people. It requires resources. It requires strategy. And it requires the consent of voters.

The “Mimi Ndio Sifuna” phenomenon remains one of the most interesting political developments of the current cycle. Its greatest strength is also its greatest vulnerability: it has become bigger than its original expression.

The question now is whether that makes it stronger, or makes it easier for other political actors to appropriate its energy.

Perhaps the most important lesson is this: when everyone starts riding your wave, the question is no longer whether the wave is powerful. The question is who owns the boat.

And in Kenyan politics, the boat is always built by those who understand that the crowd’s chant is not a plan.

Ends…

Kasembeli Albert is a political commentator.