As restless as an impatient athlete for the course set before him, Deputy President Dr William Ruto is like a galloping renegade on a rampage — in a frenzied dash for State House.
A bold maverick, he campaigns at a frenetic pace with luminous lyricism and hypnotic pageantry. A seemingly naturally-born contrarian, he exudes a confident swagger that supporters find appealing — an ineffable sense of style, rebel streak, intensity, and charm.
In his work, As You Like It, William Shakespeare wrote that “All the world’s a stage/ And all the men and women merely players/They have their exits and their entrances/And one man in his time plays many parts”.
This has been on display in Dr Ruto’s political journey. It was on display again on Tuesday, July 26 during the presidential debate as Dr Ruto took the lone stage after his arch-rival, former Prime Minister Raila Odinga, skipped the debate.
A gifted orator, Dr Ruto “can smite out a picture in a phrase” in the words of Scottish theologian Alexander Maclaren.
During the debate, as usual, he painted himself as the saviour of the ordinary Kenyan (hustler). After all, his choice symbol is a wheelbarrow, and his motto is kazi ni kazi (a job is a job).
The debate moderators put him on a leash, and he was a bit subdued — not the gladiator of the rallies — maybe because he had no opponent to mince on the stage.
However, that Dr Ruto attended the debate as a serious presidential contender — a few days before the election and with chances of winning — was the climax of an improbable journey that started many years ago.
Melodramatic
Dr Ruto’s life and his political journey are melodramatic, with him as the central hero, of course.
He has carefully choreographed this in a precise and exquisite visual style — into grand melodrama.
A critic once wrote that the “key features of melodrama as a form are pathos, overwrought or heightened emotion, moral polarization (good vs. evil), non-classical narrative structure (especially the use of extreme coincidence), and sensationalism (emphasis on action and thrills)”.
Dr Ruto has been consistent in his messaging. He has consistently highlighted his humble background as the “son of a nobody”.
His supporters can see him as a child in the pastoral solitudes of Kamagut as he wandered the fields in the sacred silence of dawn taking care of his father’s little flock.
That probably reminds them of another great man — the biblical King David — who wandered among the hills, alone with his God as he took care of his father’s small flock.
King David’s was a “tempestuous course through which he reached his throne — court minstrel, companion and friend of a king, an idol of the people, champion of the armies of God…And in the lowly associations of his humble home, he learned the life of the people, their simple joys, their inconspicuous toils, their unnoticed sorrows — a priceless piece of knowledge both for the poet and for the king,” so writes Maclaren.
Dr Ruto’s supporters will probably see the parallel between Dr Ruto and King David even if it’s a bit stretched — that growing up in a village in Kamagut gives him the advantage of knowing what ordinary folks struggle with — the implication is that this will make him a better president who identifies with the ordinary Kenyan.
And of course, this is tied to the other characteristic of polarization in melodrama: That the boy from Kamagut (a hustler) is in a battle for high office against dynasties (even though the man from Kamagut is now fabulously wealthy).
Another characteristic of melodrama that Dr Ruto has employed well is sensationalism (to provoke public excitement). Like the biblical King David who suffered through, “the early shepherd days, the manifold sorrows, the hunted wanderings as King Saul wanted to kill him, the fight with Goliath and the later wars,” Dr William Ruto and his allies have intimated that he is a man under siege from the government. Such claims make him appear to be the underdog and his supporters sympathise and stick with him even more.
Kamagut’s most famous son is on the stage of life to play his part in the drama.
Probably somewhere in his early childhood days at Kamagut, he got a glimpse of his high destiny.
He must have been conscious at one time of a call that would carry him far away from the greenery of that little village of Kamagut to places unknown.
Now he is a breath away from fulfilling these dreams.
He has already seen real power and experienced its vicissitudes — the quivering consciousness of the agonies of being close to the power belonging to someone else and the swift alternation of heat and cold when one is seemingly thrown out of the circle of power.
Indeed, for a man who has been like a fugitive after he fell out with his boss, figuratively lurking outside the gates of State House like an outlaw, he must see in his dreams, on some nights, this swift transition to the throne — victorious, prosperous, and beloved.
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