The interior Cabinet Secretary Kipchumba Murkomen has ordered all police officers to shoot and kill anyone approaching a police station during protests. “The order has come from above , and I’ll protect you so do it, your guns are not flowers or toys use them to deal with protestors” meaning the order is directly coming from President William Ruto, he told Police as he received reports from police officers in Nairobi.
“When the madness of an entire nation disturbs a solitary mind, it is not enough to say the man is mad.” – Ugandan proverb
“It is always darkest before dawn.” – African proverb
There comes a time when silence becomes complicity. When history begins to echo the darkest chapters of tyranny, and those entrusted to protect the people turn their guns on them, one must speak. Today, that urgency bears a name: Kipchumba Murkomen.
The so-called Cabinet Secretary for Interior and National Administration has crossed every line of decency, legality, and democratic accountability. His recent pronouncements are not merely reckless—they are the rantings of a man who has mistaken state power for personal vengeance. They are the words of someone unhinged, drunk on authority, and determined to crush the very people he is constitutionally mandated to serve.
Let it not be forgotten: about a year ago, it was Murkomen who lobbied for the Interior docket. In both hushed corners and televised studios, he told President William Ruto, who in truth mirrors his disdain for dissent, that he wanted that ministry so he could “deal with Gen-Z once and for all.” And Ruto, with his usual braggadocio and disdain for democratic accountability, gave it to him. He knew exactly what Murkomen meant. He expected blood—and now, he has it.
Here are the results: Children gunned down. Mothers burying their sons in hurried graves. Police stations turned into execution chambers. A government applauding mass murder under the banner of “law and order.” Young people abducted for nothing more than their postings in social media. Families weeping all over the country for loss of their children. With the likes of Murkomen, this government is worse than even the colonial government. We demand independence from this tyranny.
Murkomen is not just a minister out of control. He is politically, morally, and ideologically sick. This is not hyperbole, it is a national diagnosis. Only a deranged mind could look at the carnage across Nairobi, Kisumu, Mombasa, and Eldoret and call it “remarkable restraint.”
This is a man who instructed police to shoot to kill, who scoffed that guns are “not for decoration,” and who labeled unarmed, peaceful protestors as “terrorists” and “criminal anarchists.” He has not upheld the Constitution—he has desecrated it.
Let us be unequivocal: This is not law enforcement. This is not public safety. This is state-sanctioned murder. It is the deliberate use of state machinery to silence a morally awakened generation. It is fascism in a designer suit, quoting legal codes by day and unleashing terror by night.
In Article 37, the Constitution of Kenya guarantees the right to protest, to assemble, and to dissent. That right is not subject to Murkomen’s mood or Ruto’s insecurities. Yet, under their watch, the Constitution has been trampled under blood-soaked boots.
They claim a coup was foiled. We ask: which coup, and by whom? The only coup happening in Kenya is the slow, systematic overthrow of democracy by the very people entrusted to defend it. And Murkomen has become the ruthless face of that betrayal.
Murkomen and Ruto are bound not only by political ambition, but by a shared contempt for the democratic voices of the youth. This is not about peace. This is about power, about silencing a movement that dares to dream of a just Kenya, one unshackled from the grip of old impunity.
And as the country bleeds, Ruto, ever detached, ever arrogant, dares to mock the grief and fury sweeping the land. As the chants of “Ruto Must Go” and “Wantam” echo across the streets, Ruto scoffs, “Go where?” He brags that he cannot hand over power to a “disorganized opposition.”
We have heard this tune before —from Moi, from others who mistook State House for a personal inheritance. But history has a sharp memory and an even sharper turning point. And to Ruto we say: with Murkomen and his type as your advisors, your time is up. It is only a matter of time. And a very short time at that.
We cannot afford to lose more children to this madness. We cannot afford to bury another generation under tear gas and gunfire. We cannot allow a criminal elite to rewrite our national destiny.
Yes, these are dark days. But as the African proverb reminds us, “it is always darkest before dawn.” That dawn is coming. And when it does, the names of the perpetrators will not be lost in the fog of propaganda. They will be written in history’s permanent ink; not with honor, but with shame.
Let it be known: When the truth commissions are seated, when the victims are named, when justice finally begins its long, righteous journey, Murkomen’s name will not be forgotten.
But until that day, we must resist. We must resist the normalization of tyranny. We must resist the criminalization of protest. We must resist this madness, even if we do so alone.
Because as the Ugandan proverb reminds us, “When the madness of an entire nation disturbs a solitary mind, it is not enough to say the man is mad.” It is the whole nation that is mad. And in such times, it is the duty of that solitary voice to speak, to mourn, to rage, and to remember.
Kenya is not a battlefield. Kenyans are not insurgents. And Kipchumba Murkomen is not above the law.
He must go. He must be held accountable. The blood of our children is in his hands – and those of his master. And history must judge him, not with mercy, but with memory.
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