Through melody and lyric, Raila Amolo Odinga found both solace and strength. His choice of songs told the story of a man deeply connected to people, struggle, and emotion.
To those who knew him, Raila Odinga’s voice was not only political; it was musical. At gatherings, interviews, and rallies, he often broke into song, sometimes softly, other times leading thousands in chorus.
The melodies he chose reflected the many dimensions of his life: the freedom fighter, the father, the dreamer, and the patriot who never stopped believing in Kenya’s promise.
Whether crooning “Jamaica Farewell”, leading crowds in “Bado Mapambano”, or nodding along to Ken Wa Maria’s “Fundamentals”, each tune carried a meaning far deeper than its rhythm.
He once said in a TV interview, “Music speaks when words fall short. It tells the story of who we are and what we’ve endured.” In that moment, he began to hum the opening lines of “Jamaica Farewell.”
Together, they formed a soundtrack of defiance, hope, and humanity a rhythm that will continue to echo after his final bow.
“Bado Mapambano” ”[ the struggle continues] – The Anthem of Resistance
Whenever Raila mounted a podium and the crowd began the chant, he would lift his fist and sing along, his voice unshaken.
This Swahili protest song became his unofficial anthem, a rallying cry across decades of political reform movements. From the clamour for multi-party democracy in the 1990s to post-election protests and Azimio rallies, “Bado Mapambano” became more than music it was movement.
He sang it with conviction, eyes blazing with crowd always responded in thunderous unity. During his funeral service at Jaramogi Oginga Odinga University, Kisii governor Simba Arati evoked memories of the song with mourners taking up the same song, to affirm that his struggle lives on.
Them Mushroom tunes was raved by Raila when in his low moment and for bromance.
Itawezekanaje, mama Idi ahera yangoja, itawezekanaje kufanya mapenzi bila fikira, heri niwe pekee yangu, Majengo sendi tena kuna…Wanadamu sio wema, ndugu zangu nawaambia, ashindwaye aje kwangu tamwambia. mwanisema mwanisema, bure bure sio maana, haidhuru, haidhuru mola atupe salama.
Kweli ajali haikingiki,
“Rero ni Rero” (Today is Today).
In January 2022, during his presidential campaign, was moved by Luhya benga musician Emmanuel Musindi song“Leo ni Leo.” Raila teamed up with songstar and did a remix, upbeat and catchy, became the soundtrack of his rallies. Raila himself joined in the remix, chanting his familiar slogan “Inawezekana!”—it is possible.
At Bukhungu Stadium in Kakamega, the performance was electric. As the crowd danced, Raila smiled, moving gently to the rhythm, pointing skyward as if to say, “This is our time.”
The song’s lyrics urged immediacy and hope: “Leo ni leo, asemaye kesho ni muongo”—Today is today, whoever says tomorrow is lying.
“Kenya mpya, nchi inayo raha na ustawi na inawezekana. Ndoto yao waliyosema, mungu bariki nchi yetu ya Kenya. Haki iwe NGAO na mlinzi tukae na undugu amani na Uhuru na raha tupatw na ustawi, na inawezekana.”
It was a fitting message for a man who spent a lifetime urging action over complacency.
The song garnered over 3.4 million views on YouTube a digital testament to how music bridged his politics and personality.
“Sitarudi Nyuma” —[I will not turn back] – Defiance in the Face of Power
Even in time of diversities, Raila would coil even gospel melodies to fit and send his message home. In March 2023, as tear gas hung over Nairobi’s streets, Raila stood on a vehicle’s rooftop surrounded by his supporters. With police barricades closing in, he began singing “Nipigwe teke sitarudi nyuma, oh nipigwe pingu, niwekwe jela…” a show of no surrender in his quest for liberation.
“Even when he was tear-gassed, he never flinched,” recalled a long-time supporter in Kisumu. “He would start singing ‘Sitarudi Nyuma’, and suddenly everyone would find courage. His song became our shield.”
Nikiitwa nitaitika kupambana kwa ukombozi wa Africa- When He calls me I will answer, He would always raising his hand, drenched in sweat, defying the sting of gas and fear. It was not a rehearsed moment; it was instinct.
That defiance, set to music, became the emotional heartbeat of his protests. To his followers, it was no longer just a slogan; it was a vow.
“Fundamentals” by Ken Wa Maria
There was also the playful, human side of Raila. During an appearance on The Churchill Show in 2014, he requested “Fundamentals” the song, light-hearted and humorous, celebrates what truly matters in relationships, the fundamentals.
The audience erupted in laughter and applause as Raila nodded to the beat, smiling broadly. It was a rare, intimate glimpse of him less the fiery politician, more the man who enjoyed the simplicity of Kenyan pop music.
“People forget that leaders are human. Sometimes, you need to laugh, dance, and remember what’s good about life,” he once remarked in a lighter interview.
That moment showed his ability to connect not only through ideology but through joy, a reminder that even revolutionaries have favourite tunes.
In quiet moments, especially in his later years, Raila was known to reflect and keep his faith on the song “By the Rivers of Babylon” by Boney M. The reggae tune, steeped in biblical lament, speaks of a people exiled and yearning for home.
“By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yeah, yeah, we wept, when we remembered Zion. Then the wicked carried us away in captivity, requiring of us a song…”
To Raila, the song’s message of endurance and faith in exile mirrored his own life story. Having spent years detained for political beliefs, the line “How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?” resonated deeply.
Kenyan musician Charles Njagua aka Jaguar’s “Kigeugeu” talking about betrayal and shifting loyalties was another of Raila’s acknowledged favourites. The song’s theme of deception and changing human nature reflected the political turbulence he often faced.
“Dunia nizamishe, ama uniweke niishi pekee yangu, kwani ninapomwamini binadamu, mwishowe ananigeukia…”
Those lyrics, critics noted, mirrored Raila’s own disillusionment with allies who turned against him. Yet he never allowed bitterness to consume him. Instead, he used the song to remind his followers that loyalty and integrity were the true fundamentals of leadership.
Raila’s love for reggae was legendary. He often quoted Lucky Dube’s “Nobody Can Stop Reggae.” It became a symbolic expression of his enduring faith in unstoppable change and freedom pulsy.
“They tried to kill it many years ago…But somebody said, respect the Rastaman,
’Cause he’s the only one left in Jah creation.”
The message resonated with Raila’s own story a man whose spirit could not be crushed despite years of political persecution.
For him, reggae represented freedom of speech, thought, and soul.
In every season of Raila Odinga’s life, there was a song—a melody for each chapter of his journey. On stage, his musical choices painted a portrait of a man guided by conviction yet grounded in culture.
Perhaps most poignant was his fondness for a rendition by Harry Belafonte, “Jamaica Farewell” which became one of Raila’s most beloved songs. He often sang its opening verse his voice calm, reflective, his eyes distant—as though revisiting a cherished memory.
“But I’m sad to say, I’m on my way,
Won’t be back for many a day.”
Raila revealed that a Swahili version of the song existed and that he loved it from his youth. “Niliondoka kwenda safari, nilimuacha wangu pekee” became deeply associated with him.
It spoke of journeys, separation, and the hope of return an apt metaphor for his own life of exile, imprisonment, and political struggle. Raila said he was detained, kept incommunicado from his family and even denied to bury his beloved mother and brother.
For him, the song was never just about departure; it was about the ache of longing and the resilience to return. To his supporters, the words gained prophetic weight in his final years: a farewell of a man whose life had been one long, unfinished journey home.
Supporters often fell silent when he sang it, as if understanding that he was singing not just of departure, but of legacy.