OO was color blind. He changed the colour scheme in Jukwaa over and over, riled followers and frenemies alike, but he wasn't one for a neutral palate. He saw the world differently, and agitated for a third way. The logo for Jukwaa is a screaming woman activist, an actual woman he'd marched in solidarity with, and he openly wore bangles and called out on the misogynists. He set the world on fire for her.
OO's party, the Social Democratic Party, nominated the first female presidential candidate in Kenya, Charity Ngilu, and launched James Orengo's political career. He believed in Raila Odinga and the Orange Democratic Movement, and that it would lead to a better Kenya. As a staunch lenin-marxist who used to confide with Hugo Chavez when Hugo was in prison, to organising the World Social Forum in Nairobi, OO remained true to his beliefs. He refused to loot and succumb like the others, even though he could've lived that life.
OO was a steward of Kenya's history, and with a formidable passion, he dissected and curated political events with masterful prose. There is no denying God gave OO a gift, the gift of penmanship, and he devoted his life with grace and humility to using this gift. With the Kenya Democracy Project, to his personal writings, he celebrated heroes, the unknowns, the little guys, and spoke fondly of friends and comrades past and fallen. He listened to the broken, the disenfranchised and marginalised. He laughed with them, hugged them, cried with them, and at the end of the day, it wasn't just a handshake for self promos and pleasantries, he followed up with the time of day to have a voice heard. Poetry, music, love, he celebrated humanity, and devoted his life to loving humanity.
OO chose to live this life, detained from the onset- which did little to stop him from shaping the trajectory of a nation. He was the first of Kenya's disruptors, a hacktivist and an activist. The unsung hero who accepted a life of charity like Jesus and Gandhi, and spoke to the conscience of many. His literary wizardry touched many, and brought shame to many. As I write this bunkered in the ski slopes, mourning for my dear friend and mentor, who walked with me on my darkest days, he reminds me that I don't owe him anything. Kenya doesn't owe him anything. He lived this life to the fullest, a pure life with no regret and shame, and he departed this life with his head held high. His legacy is the beginning of many things to come.
In solidarity to my dear friend and mentor, comrade OO. To this life and the next. Always and forever. Your beloved veri.
Psalm 18.