NGESA: Raymond Omollo: Astute leader that Luo leaders cannot afford to ignore

Interior PS Raymond Omollo / HANDOUT

Coming to terms with the trust and faith that President William Ruto has placed in him, Raymond Omollo has emerged as one of the most influential figures from the Nyanza region within the Kenya Kwanza administration.

Once dismissed, doubted and occasionally mocked by political leaders from his own backyard, the Principal Secretary for Interior and Administration has gradually earned respect—not only from his colleagues in government but, more curiously, from the very Luo political class that initially saw him as a traitor to their cause.

Omollo’s demeanour—calm, measured and strategic—has become his greatest strength. While other political actors in the region have been quick to resort to emotion or populism, he has chosen a quieter, more deliberate path. It is this temperament, coupled with a strong sense of professionalism that now makes many Luo leaders eager to be seen as his allies. Whether out of genuine admiration or political survival instinct, the sudden warmth toward him cannot be ignored.

But let us take ourselves back, lest we forget. Before the so-called “broad-based government” arrangement came into play, the same legislators now lining up to shake his hand were among his harshest critics. In open political rallies and informal discussions, they disowned the soft-spoken PS, comparing him to Moi’s infamous henchman, Hezekiah Oyugi Ogango, who held the same position during the Kanu era and was known for ruling with an iron fist. “He should come slowly,” they warned, painting him as a symbol of state oppression rather than a son of the soil serving his country. 

What changed? Could it be that, over time, they realised that it costs the Luo community nothing when one of their own is appointed to serve in a government they do not support politically? Or have they simply acknowledged that, whether one agrees with his political alignment or not, Omollo has proven to be an effective administrator who commands influence in one of the most powerful ministries in the country?

The irony is striking. The same political elite who previously questioned his loyalty now find themselves attending public functions by his side, speaking highly of his achievements and seeking his audience in matters of regional development. It’s a classic Kenyan political transformation—the kind that happens when pragmatism outweighs partisanship. In President Mwai Kibaki’s words, this could best be described as being “speedily clever.”

However, beneath the surface of this newfound admiration lies a deeper reflection on the evolving relationship between the Luo community and successive governments. For decades, Nyanza has been synonymous with opposition politics. Since the days of Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, the community has often been at odds with the ruling regime—standing firm on principle, but often at the cost of meaningful representation in government. This long-standing political posture has had its price: limited access to state resources, stalled infrastructure projects and marginalisation in senior public appointments.

Omollo’s appointment therefore represents both a challenge and an opportunity. It challenges the old narrative that one must be in opposition to maintain relevance among the Luo electorate. At the same time, it offers an opportunity to bridge the gap between the government and a region that has, for far too long, been viewed as politically hostile. His rise suggests that it is possible to serve faithfully under a government led by political opponents without betraying one’s roots or compromising community pride.

In his current role, the PS for Interior oversees critical aspects of national administration—security, coordination of county affairs, and the management of the National Government Administration Officers network. It is a position that demands firmness, discretion and an ability to balance political sensitivity with administrative efficiency. By most accounts, Omollo has handled these demands with a professionalism that has won him quiet but genuine respect across the board.

For many observers, his journey offers important lessons. First, that politics should never be allowed to stand in the way of service. Leadership, after all, is about competence, not just political alignment. Second, those regional leaders must learn to support their own when opportunities arise, regardless of the party in power. The knee-jerk rejection of every appointment made by an “unfriendly” government serves no purpose other than self-sabotage. Communities that thrive are those that strategically position their people across political divides, ensuring representation in both government and opposition.

Thirdly, Omollo’s growing influence reflects a generational shift within Luo politics. The old guard, with its fiery rhetoric and rigid loyalties, is slowly giving way to a younger, more pragmatic class of leaders who value results over slogans. These leaders understand that the politics of exclusion have outlived their usefulness. The country’s political architecture is evolving, and so must the strategies for relevance and empowerment.

Still, this transformation is not without resistance. There are those who view the PS’s newfound popularity with suspicion, interpreting it as an attempt by the state to co-opt Luo leadership and weaken traditional power structures centered on opposition politics. Such fears are not entirely unfounded; Kenyan politics is rife with examples of divide-and-rule tactics. Yet, even if that were the case, should the community reject development opportunities and representation simply to preserve political purity? At what point does principle become self-defeating?

Only time will tell how this developing relationship between Omollo and the Luo political establishment will evolve. Will it lead to a genuine partnership that brings tangible benefits to the region, or will it collapse under the weight of old mistrusts and political jealousy? One thing, however, is clear: the PS has become an unavoidable figure in the region’s political discourse. He represents a new kind of public servant—one defined not by partisan loyalty but by competence and quiet influence.

In the final analysis, perhaps it is indeed a “bitter pill” that Luo political leaders must swallow. For decades, they thrived on opposition rhetoric, defining themselves by resistance rather than inclusion. But times have changed. The political centre of gravity is shifting and relevance now demands flexibility. Whether they like it or not, the PS has become a force to reckon with—a son of the region who, despite early rejection, has proven that one can serve effectively, earn respect, and still remain rooted in their identity.

Maybe, just maybe, this bitter pill will turn out to be medicine after all—an awakening to a new political realism where loyalty to the community and collaboration with the government are no longer mutually exclusive. Only history will render its final verdict.

The writer is a seasoned insurer and finance scholar at the University of Nairobi