The chant is short, sharp and telling: “Ruto wan-tam”. Across Kenya’s streets, amid tear gas, water cannon and live bullets, young protesters are sending a message that President William Ruto cannot afford to ignore. Three years into his presidency, the hope he rode to power on has curdled into disappointment, and for many Kenyans, especially the young and jobless, the verdict is already out. One term.
It is a remarkable turn for a man who once cast himself as the “hustler-in-chief,” a self-styled champion of the poor. Ruto campaigned on promises to end economic inequality, tame corruption and reform the police. But in recent months, he has come to symbolise everything he vowed to change. The same police forces he once pledged to hold accountable are now accused of executing the kind of violence that has left dozens dead. The cost of living remains out of reach for many. Jobs are scarce. Hospital bills mount. Frustration boils over.
This week, Kenya saw another bloody chapter. At least thirty one people were killed during protests held to mark the anniversary of the country’s pro-democracy movement. What began as demonstrations over the custodial death of blogger and teacher Albert Ojwang has grown into something larger, angrier and more determined. The face of this uprising is young. Educated. Online. And increasingly disillusioned.
Gen Z, the digital generation born after the return to multi-party democracy, has no nostalgia for past regimes. They are not interested in political favours or patronage deals. They want accountability. They want a future. They have no patience for leaders who treat them as naive. These are the children of free primary education, but their diplomas have not translated into jobs. Up to eight hundred thousand young people enter the labour market in Kenya each year. Many are qualified. Most are unemployed.
They are angry, not just because life is hard, but because the government appears unmoved. When they speak, they are met with silence. When they march, they are labelled anarchists. When they cry out, they are met with bullets. Interior Minister Kipchumba Murkomen has gone as far as to describe the protests as a coup attempt. What does it say when citizens demanding food, jobs and justice are treated as enemies of the state?
Yet this is not a generation that can be bullied back into silence. Social media has changed the game. Mobilisation no longer depends on party structures or established leaders. There is no single opposition figure to co-opt or suppress. There is only a shared experience of economic pain and betrayal.
Ruto’s administration appears to be losing control of the narrative. After last year’s attempt to hike taxes triggered widespread unrest and even a storming of parliament, the president eventually backed down. But not before the country had witnessed scenes that would be unthinkable just a few years ago. Young people overrunning the legislative chambers of a sitting government is not just a protest. It is a warning.
And yet, for all this discontent, Ruto remains politically secure, for now. His parliamentary majority shields him from early removal. The opposition remains fragmented. Raila Odinga, long his most formidable rival, was brought into the fold last year in a move that neutralised any immediate threat. In that vacuum, the voice of Gen Z is growing louder.
Still, the question remains. Can Ruto turn things around in time for 2027?
There are signs his administration is trying to shift course. Increased spending on social welfare programmes and youth employment initiatives may help. Inflation has begun to ease, and the economy shows glimmers of stability. But these will count for little if young Kenyans continue to feel dismissed and mistreated. Promises mean nothing if bodies keep piling up in the streets and families are left to mourn in silence.
Ruto does not need another economic advisor. He needs to listen. The perception on the ground, especially among the young, is that his government is blind, deaf and dumb to their reality. That it only sees them as a threat. That it answers questions with tear gas.
That perception is political poison. And if left unchecked, it will define the next election.
Ruto has two years to repair the damage. Two years to demonstrate that his promises were more than campaign slogans. Two years to convince young Kenyans that their lives matter, that their voices will be heard, and that justice is not reserved for the elite.
Failing that, the verdict may well be cast in stone. Wantam. One term. A single chapter in the history books, marked not by transformation, but by broken trust and missed opportunity.
The clock is ticking.
