WIPER LEADER’S conspicuous silence and what it signals in the broader political drama unfolding in Machakos
This week, the Machakos County Assembly descended into unprecedented chaos—violence, injuries, and a total paralysis of legislative functions.
At the heart of it all is a bid to unseat Speaker Anne Kiusya in what is widely seen as a politically engineered coup backed by Governor Wavinya Ndeti.
Yet amid the smoke and fury, one voice has been conspicuously absent: that of Wiper Party leader Kalonzo Musyoka.
Kalonzo is no stranger to the politics of Machakos. His party dominates the assembly. The Governor is elected on a Wiper ticket.
Speaker Kiusya herself enjoys the backing of many MCAs from his camp. He is, by all definitions, the political patriarch of the region. And yet, as the Assembly imploded and violence spilled into the corridors of representation, Kalonzo looked the other way.
His silence is as deafening as it is dangerous.
The crisis is not just about one speaker. No.It is about the rule of law, the independence of county institutions, and the soul of devolution.
The Speaker’s impeachment was halted by the courts. That MCAs allied to the Governor would proceed with a fresh motion—largely unchanged from the quashed version—was a direct assault on judicial authority.
That it happened under Kalonzo’s political watch is nothing short of an abdication of leadership.
Wiper, under Kalonzo’s stewardship, has long claimed to stand for justice, fairness, and institutional integrity.
But when its own elected officials are at the centre of legislative violence, and its governor is visibly orchestrating a power grab, principle demands that the party speak out—firmly and clearly. That it has not speaks volumes.
Is Kalonzo quietly supporting the Governor’s actions? Is he unable—or unwilling—to rein in his political allies? Or has he become so politically risk-averse, so obsessed with national (mis)calculations, that he is now blind to the rot taking hold in his own backyard in broad daylight?
Wavinya Ndeti’s quest to control the Assembly—by whatever means—should alarm every Kenyan who believes in the separation of powers. That she may succeed, unchecked by party or public censure, sets a dangerous precedent not just for Machakos, but for all counties.
It is not enough to be a party leader in name. Leadership is tested in moments of crisis, not celebration. If Kalonzo Musyoka truly hopes to be seen as a national leader—and not just a tribal, regional kingpin—he must demonstrate moral courage when it matters most. Now is such a moment.
Silence, in this case, is complicity.
