Professor Peter Ndiang’ui, Fort Myers, Florida, USA
The recent parade at State House, Nairobi, where a delegation of so-called Kenyan diaspora “leaders” from 40 countries rushed to endorse President William Ruto, was marketed as a historic show of unity and international confidence in the government.
This came as a shock to many of us. In reality, to many Kenyans at home and abroad, it looked exactly like what it was: a staged political performance designed to manufacture legitimacy. The question that refuses to go away is simple: Who exactly are these people representing? Certainly not the majority of Kenyans I encounter across the diaspora. Every time I travel, and I do so a lot, I hear the WANTAM song.
The Kenyan diaspora is vast, diverse, outspoken, and politically aware. It consists of hardworking immigrants juggling multiple jobs, students drowning in debt, professionals building lives abroad, parents sending money home every month, and young people trying to survive increasingly difficult economic realities. Yet whenever a government desperate for validation needs applause, the same familiar characters suddenly emerge claiming to speak on behalf of millions of Kenyans scattered across the globe.
Nobody elected them. Nobody mandated them. Nobody consulted ordinary Kenyans abroad before they marched into State House carrying praise songs for a government that many diaspora Kenyans are deeply disillusioned with.
The issue is not that they met the president. Every Kenyan has a constitutional right to engage with their government. The issue is the dishonest attempt to present this small circle of politically connected individuals as the authentic voice of the diaspora.
They are not. If you have to travel all the way to meet with the president and his corrupt uncaring government, why don’t you take the opportunity to tell them the truth. We are tired. And the Kenyans at home are tired too.
Across the United States, Canada, Europe, Australia, the Middle East, and Africa, frustration with the Ruto administration is impossible to miss.
You hear it everywhere — in churches after Sunday services, in airport conversations, in restaurants, at graduation parties, in WhatsApp groups, in funeral fundraisers, and during late-night discussions among Kenyans trying to make sense of what is happening back home.
The anger is raw. The disappointment is widespread. And the “Wantam” message is no longer confined to political rallies. It has become the language of exhausted citizens at home and in the diaspora who feel betrayed by leaders who promised economic liberation but delivered punishing taxes, rising costs of living, endless scandals, arrogance, and government by public relations.
I cannot believe that even on the day of national prayer Ruto and his henchmen could not recognize that the country was mourning the loss of 16 children of Utumishi Academy and the 80 or more injured. The same government is awaiting to abduct more children next month during the Gen-Z memorial. Is this really a government to support? Shame on you, so-called diaspora leaders!
Diaspora Kenyans are not detached observers. They carry Kenya’s burdens daily. The families at home are crying to them. On a daily basis, we send money home for rent, school fees, medical bills, funerals, and emergencies while watching families sink deeper into economic hardship. Many are working double shifts abroad while politicians back home lecture citizens about sacrifice from the comfort of motorcades, luxury offices, and heavily guarded compounds. That is why these carefully choreographed endorsements feel so insulting.
The government celebrates diaspora remittances because they prop up the economy, stabilize foreign exchange reserves, and rescue countless households from collapse. But beyond the praise speeches, many Kenyans abroad still struggle with poor consular services, limited voting rights, bureaucratic indifference, and exclusion from meaningful national decision-making.
The diaspora is good enough to send money. Good enough to be praised during economic briefings. Good enough to rescue relatives from financial ruin. But apparently not important enough to be honestly represented. What happened at State House was not a reflection of diaspora consensus. It was a photo session masquerading as democratic representation.
Kenyan politics has perfected the dangerous habit of confusing access to power with legitimacy. Standing next to the president does not make someone the voice of the people. A State House invitation is not a democratic mandate. A microphone and a title do not equal representation.
Real representation requires accountability. Real leadership requires consultation. Real legitimacy comes from the people — not proximity to power.
Many diaspora Kenyans are increasingly tired of self-appointed gatekeepers who appear whenever political opportunities arise, positioning themselves as community spokespersons while ordinary Kenyans abroad remain unheard. Too often, these figures function less like advocates and more like political brokers seeking relevance, visibility, influence, and proximity to state power.
If these diaspora “leaders” truly represent Kenyans in the diaspora, then let them answer a few basic questions:
Who elected them? Which diaspora communities formally selected them? Where were the public consultations before this endorsement? When did ordinary Kenyans abroad who are bearing the heavy load due to poor governance agree to become cheerleaders for this corrupt government? And why does Ruto and his State House suddenly produce “diaspora representatives” nobody has ever heard of? From each of the 40 countries, who sent them to talk on their behalf?
These are not minor questions. They go to the heart of credibility. The truth is that many Kenyans abroad are exhausted by performative politics. They are tired of leaders who mistake propaganda for governance and public relations for progress. They are tired of endless promises while corruption persists, unemployment grows, public debt balloons, and ordinary citizens are squeezed harder every year.
Kenyans in the diaspora love their country deeply. That is why many refuse to participate in political worship disguised as patriotism. Genuine patriotism demands the courage to question power, confront failure, and speak honestly about the suffering of ordinary citizens.
The diaspora deserves better than staged endorsements and recycled political theater. It deserves authentic voices willing to challenge the government when necessary instead of acting as extensions of it.
And no amount of State House choreography, glossy photography, or carefully scripted praise will erase the growing disconnect between Kenya’s political elite and the lived reality of millions of Kenyans both at home and abroad.
