Kenyan Politics: When Leaders Turn to Mchongoano, and Body shaming
Kenyan politics is increasingly sounding like a competition over who can deliver the sharpest insult or the most embarrassing nickname.
President William Ruto has mocked opposition figures, including Nairobi Senator Edwin Sifuna, whom he has called “Mr Empty.” Sifuna has responded with his own jabs, including the nickname “Kasongo.”
At a massive opposition rally at Jacaranda Grounds, Sifuna went further, referring to the President as, “Huyu jamaa ni Mamba M_slow!”
Then there is Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua, who, in a video I have watched, sarcastically asks about Ruto, “Mnaona vile amekonda?” — drawing attention to the President’s weight.
These exchanges raise a bigger question: are our political leaders debating Kenya’s problems, or are they turning politics into what Sheng speakers call mchongoano ?
When Politics Becomes Mchongoano
Mchongoano is familiar in Kenyan urban culture. Friends tease each other, exchange clever insults and compete to make an audience laugh. In the right setting, it is harmless entertainment.
But political leaders hold positions of public responsibility. When they mock one another, their words attract national attention. Supporters pick up the nicknames, create memes and carry the insults into online conversations.
Political satire has its place in a democracy. It can expose hypocrisy and challenge powerful people. But there is a difference between criticising a leader’s decisions and ridiculing their physical appearance.
When body-shaming becomes part of political communication, the discussion moves away from public performance and towards personal humiliation.
We have Seen This Before
Some Kenyans may argue that political insults are nothing new. They have a point.
Remember the late President Mwai Kibaki and his famous expression, “mavi ya kuku,” as well as his blunt phrase, “bure kabisa.”
Kibaki’s colourful language remains part of Kenya’s political memory. Provocative expressions have been part of our politics for years.
But today’s environment is different. A political insult can be clipped from a speech, circulated on TikTok, Facebook and WhatsApp, turned into a meme and watched thousands of times within hours.
The original context may disappear, but the insult lives on.
The issue, therefore, is not simply that politicians use colourful language. It is how frequently personal attacks dominate political communication and how quickly they spread.
What are Kenyans Learning?
Think about the young people watching these exchanges.
When leaders repeatedly ridicule one another, some young people may begin to see insults as an acceptable way to handle disagreement. Instead of challenging an argument, they may attack someone’s appearance, intelligence or character.
We cannot claim that political insults automatically cause bullying or violence. Human behaviour is more complicated than that. But public leaders influence social norms, and their words help shape what people consider acceptable.
There is also the danger of deepening political divisions. One camp invents a nickname, the other responds, and supporters turn the exchange into a contest of loyalty.
Eventually, political opponents may be treated not as fellow citizens with different views, but as enemies who deserve humiliation.
In a country where political competition can intersect with ethnic identity and regional loyalties, leaders should be particularly careful about the atmosphere their words create.
Are We Forgetting the Real Issues?
While politicians trade insults, Kenyans still need answers about the cost of living, unemployment, taxation, healthcare, education and public debt.
A nickname may generate laughter and thousands of online reactions, but it does not explain how a government intends to create jobs, improve hospitals or reduce the burden on struggling households.
The same standard must apply to everyone.
Calling an opponent “Mr Empty” does not prove that the person has no ideas. Calling the President “Kasongo” or “Mamba M_slow” does not establish whether his policies are succeeding or failing.
And mocking a leader’s weight tells us nothing about the quality of that leader’s decisions.
Citizens deserve evidence, explanations and workable alternatives. The President should account for his administration’s record, while opposition leaders should explain what they would do differently.
Where is This Heading?
As Kenya approaches the 2027 General Election, this culture could develop in several directions.
Political debate could become increasingly dominated by personal attacks because provocative statements attract attention. The cycle could escalate as each side feels compelled to deliver an even more embarrassing response.
Alternatively, citizens could grow tired of the spectacle and demand serious engagement with the issues affecting their lives.
The public has a role to play. When we reward insults with attention but ignore policy discussions, we give politicians an incentive to keep entertaining us rather than explaining themselves.
There is nothing wrong with humour in politics. Leaders must be open to satire and robust criticism. But there is a difference between exposing a leader’s failures and making personal humiliation the main event.
A Final Question for Kenyans
Let us ask ourselves: after the laughter dies down, what have we learned? What problem has been explained? What promise has been examined? What solution has been presented?
Kenya’s political history has always had memorable one-liners. But our future will not be decided by who invents the funniest nickname.
It will be shaped by decisions about the economy, public services, justice, security and opportunities for the next generation.
Our leaders can entertain us, but they must also account to us. And we, as citizens, must know the difference between a politician who makes us laugh and a leader who gives us answers.
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