You know that game where you’re asked if you were to have dinner with one person, dead or alive, who would you pick? I know you may already have your favorites, but the next time you’re asked that question, say Reuben Kigame, whether it’s a game you’re playing or you mean it. You’ll thank me later. That’s all I feel like saying and leaving it at that, but then I’ll be doing Reuben Kigame the sort of injustice he’s so accustomed to, that of always being reduced to nothing more than some blind mystical singing figure – and the ground around him shakes when he sings – and ignoring his entire range, be it his place in the intelligentsia – he’s at home discussing Negritude, Ngugi, Shakespeare, Plato or Okot p’Bitek, or his depth as a cultural connoisseur swinging from being rooted in reggae to jazz to blues to rhumba to calypso to Fela’s Afrobeat, or his patriotic varlour starting with street protests during the clamor for multipartism, or his unpopular crusade against the get-rich-quick abracadabra gospel. In a word, you need to know Reuben Kigame, whether he becomes Kenya’s next President (which he hopes he does) or not.

For two general elections, Moses Masika Wetangula has been one of four principals in the main opposition coalition, and is now a principal a third time, hoping his coalition will ascend to state power. To Wetangula, being a principal is good political arithmetics, since whoever becomes president is only a first among equals, and he hopes that if not now, then one day his turn to become a first shall come. In this three-part read, journalist and Debunk Media’s Editor-in-Chief Isaac Otidi Amuke goes back to his two hour conversation with Wetangula, in which he examines the Bungoma Senator’s tenacity and staying power, and what his presidency – if and when he becomes a first – will look like and mean for Kenya.

You’ll catch a glimpse of them if you went to watch a game of rugby at the Kenya Rugby Union grounds on Ngong Road. They’re usually in their 50s or 60s, well built (some with a belly, the sloshing takes a toll) and maintaining a gentlemanly mien, always spotting a fedora. They keep to themselves and talk less, and when they speak, they only say the absolute necessary, always in good cheer. But when you inquire, you’ll be told oh that’s so and so, the rugby legend of the ‘70s, ‘80s or ‘90s. Musalia Mudavadi belongs to this category, only that he’s in politics. For the uninitiated, he’s a softie. But for those who know Phantom, he’s the truest representation of the brawler on the pitch and gentleman off the pitch. As the British say, rugby is a sport for hooligans played by gentlemen and football is a sport for gentlemen played by hooligans. It may be this gentleman-playing-a-hooligan’s-sport maxim that defines Mudavadi’s approach to politics. Since hanging his rugby boots in the mid ‘80s, Mudavadi has been singing one song; economy! Will he go low like the good rugby player he once was and tackle Kenya’s debt and other recurring economic aggravations? But wait, he first has to become President.

There is no better way to describe Prof. Kivutha Kibwana other than by looking at two men from India, Mohandas Gandhi and Bhimrao Ramji Ambedka. Gandhi, a man from an upper caste, became world renowned for his meekness, activism and controversies, while Ambedka, a man from the lowest caste, wasn’t necessarily a global celebrity but rose to become an Ivy League trained lawyer and father of the Indian constitution who changed the lives of India’s lower caste immeasurably. And so to date, as debate rages on as to who is the greatest between Gandhi and Ambedka, Kivutha Kibwana offers a solution to the puzzle. Kibwana brings Gandhi’s meekness and Ambedka’s intellect and commitment to changing the lives of the common man and woman, in his people-centered approach to governance.