Francis Atwoli: Inside the fabulously colourful world of COTU’s 'life President'

As the MC led the congregants in a brisk Luhya dance, Atwoli's loyal acolytes surrounded him, as he twirled around, hands in the air, soaking in the moment and wearing the countenance of a repeat winner; a man who has swam in way too many victories over the last decades.

Like a god amongst minions, Atwoli spoke with the usual pomp and colourful circumstance as his purple shirt's gilded buttons dazzled the room, adding an extra aura of royal eminence to a man who has become virtually unbeatable and the roaring titan of labour politics in Africa.

The 76-year old veteran trade unionist ascended to the COTU thrown back in August 2001 after his predecessor and then Ikolomani MP Joseph Jolly Mugalla announced that he would not be seeking re-election.

Mugalla's withdrawal left Deputy Secretary-General Boniface Munyao and chairman-general Peter Muthee, who was also secretary- general of the Kenya Railway Workers Union, as the main contenders for the top post.

But also interested were the Kenya Guards and Allied Workers Union chairman Joseph Mujema and the National Chairman of the Kenya Union of Journalists, Ezekiel Mutua. 

In the end, though, it was Francis Atwoli of the Kenya Plantation and Agricultural Workers Union who got elected COTU secretary general, having secured the backing of 26 of the organisation’s 29 affiliate unions.

25 years later, the flowery unionist, with a penchant for bombastic pronouncements and dramatic theatrics, has since ascended to various other affiliate positions which include: President of the Organisation of African Trade Union Unity, Vice-President of the International Trade Union Confederation and Member of the International Labour Organisation’s Governing Body.

A thoroughbred warrior, Atwoli has weathered near-insurmountable storms to retain his seat, while at the same time wading through intricate political environments to retain not just his position, but also his influence, stature and national prestige.

Every election cycle, Atwoli's indomitable power is once again typified, as he thunders his way through the campaign trail, making grandiloquent speeches, firing at rivals, dishing out endorsements and using his position and the members of his organisation as an airtight bargaining chip.

At his every proclamation, presidential candidates tremble; they understand that this is a man who commands millions of members, and a man whose voice and unfettered utterances have the magical ability to tilt the scales and topple a campaign; they all hope to bag his endorsement, or, at least, to be spared his vitriolic bile.

On TV debates, where he straddles the seat and swings his gavel, Atwoli dominates the conversation - he rumbles and growls, squabbles and scowls, hammering his point home, sneering at his detractors and turning the session into a fiery ball of explosive detonations.

And if he's still not understood, he will fling his Samsung Fold Z across the room and call his handlers for a speedy replacement.

At public rallies, he charges with the vehement rage of a maddened buffalo, charging up the crowd, dropping witty anecdotes and sending the masses into hysterics with his cleverly picked gags and sharp sardonicism.

On May 2, 2022, a supercharged Atwoli addressed the Labour Day crowd, finishing off with the classic line: "Tarehe tisa, mwezi wa nane, Mwaka huu, wengi watavunja redio zao, wengine watavunja television! They will not believe! They will not believe!"

A hypnotic communicator, with the rare gift of rousing the throngs and inspiring fleeting hope, the COTU boss left the crowd swamped with laughter, as he culminated his Labour Day speech in a way only he knows best - with rhythmic derision.

A master of rhetorics, Atwoli perfectly understands the power of purposeful reiteration, ensuring that his zingers are repeated over and over, not only to reinforce the point but to spark a lasting reaction.

"What is he saying? What is he saying?" he roars at TV cameras, as the host collapses in a cocktail of shock and awe.

And if you want a little poetry, Atwoli is the man too. Ask William Ruto.

Back in February 2022, during the launch of the Universal Health Coverage, and in the presence of then-President Uhuru Kenyatta, Atwoli regaled the masses with this sterling proposal: "Wale wako karibu na William Samoei Ruto, kule Sugoi, wakate miti, isiwe karibu, kwa ajili tarehe tisa usiku, kura itatangazwa, na huyo mtoto atajinyonga! Wakate miti!"

Only rivalled by Raila Odinga, Atwoli has, over the years, positioned himself as the powerbroker who not only waxes lyrical, but also leaves a little something for the internet to mine memes out of.

His viral remark 'Alaaa', made at a TV appearance, once became so massively popular in the Kenyan street lexicon that Atwoli had to seek copyright services to trademark the slogan - and a few more.

The flashy SG is also a Teflon Don of sorts - despite a myriad of controversies being thrown his way, he has almost always emerged unscathed, unperturbed and unharmed.

And unlike any other Kenyan politician, his homes in Kajiado and Kilifi are more than just a private abode, they're a national Shangri-La, a sort of unofficial Camp David where politicians, seeking blessings and political expediency, troop for tea, hushed meetings, strategies and even monetary boosts.

Atwoli also takes time to remind the world that he's not a man of meagre means. Time after time, and on national platforms no less, the theatrical warrior of workers'rights has regaled viewers with tales of his glorious abundance.

On his minted Swiss watch, he once boasted: "People are claiming that my watch is worth Ksh.2 million. They are undervaluing me. My watch is worth Ksh.5 million ... it is a Frank Muller original bought in Switzerland. You must have a certificate to own this watch. It's pure gold which I paid for in installments."

Astute, erratic but intelligent, and imbued with what the British referred to as "native cunning", Atwoli wears purple almost with a mischievous purpose: it's not just the official colour of his organisation, but also the color of royalty, an aristocratic world he understands a little too well, and a dominion he presides over with steely grit and unmatched resolute.

And with his tenure extended, Kenyans can only expect the same pomp, pageance and panache that has defined the COTU hegemony for decades.