'Tunataka Power!': How 82-year-old Oburu Oginga became a laughable internet meme

Even though King was gone, Jesse Jackson's enduring fortitude and charming magnetism kept Black America's hope alive, as he gallantly carried on the message, rallied the masses, shook the foundations and fearlessly delivered Dr King's gospel to millions across the world.

When a trailblazing leader dies, his successor is mostly expected to quickly fill his shoes, while wearing the same courage and audacious vision of the fallen hero.

They are expected to quickly step up and fill the void, and, by so doing, calm the multitude by dispensing the same energy, oratory skills and political prowess of their predecessor.

But after the death of Raila Odinga, Kenya's most brilliantly gifted politician, his older brother, Dr Oburu Oginga, was quickly shoved to fill Agwambo's shoes, with the ODM powerbrokers, aided by the president, hoping that Oburu's last name would help convince the nation that Raila was still with us.

It did not go as planned.

Oburu, already a longtime shadow of Raila, and with absolutely no national appeal, awkwardly ascended to the throne, at first, appearing to be the perfect choice to replace his younger brother, but then, quickly showing his true colours and thoughtlessly dismantling the little hope Raila's followers still clung to.

At 82, and showing clear signs of political fatigue, Oburu Odinga lacked the depth, the allure and the spellbinding mystique of Raila Odinga.

He could barely arouse a crowd, his voice lacked the oomph, and he didn't quite appear to understand the magical artistry of charging a political rally.

Every day he steps out in public, either to address ODM supporters or to speak on behalf of his late brother, Oburu, is a collapsing shell of indignity; like a weathered toad, he croaks on, hoping the forest still cares, as he sluggishly staggers across the stage, too disoriented, too fragile.

He plods across the stage with the weary resignation of a sea turtle, occasionally lifting his fist to fire up the crowd, but instead delivering a lifeless performance, as he stares bleakly into the distance, his voice croaking away at the microphone and his baggy shirts flapping away, aimlessly.

Unlike Raila Odinga, who could quickly think on his feet and charge his supporters into blinding euphoria, Oburu merely flounders across the stage, mutters often incomprehensible words, gets lost in his own thoughts, blubbers and blathers his way around, and, like a clumsy sloth, struggles to cling onto the spotlight.

Most of the time, he doesn't even appear to be saying anything at all - his speeches are always just a hodgepodge of ancient anecdotes, dated slogans, dead zingers and meaningless proclamations.

When he attempts to throw in a quotable soundbite or two, it is almost always turned into laughable slop, with Kenyans turning parts of his speeches into memeified audios to be used and abused on TikTok and other social media platforms.

While addressing a smattering crowd of ODM supporters in Mombasa, a visibly tired Oburu once again delved into the Deputy President debate, feebly muttering: "Hatuwezi kukaa bila power! Ni lazima tupate power!"

Quickly, the quote was turned into a TikTok comedic audio, as Kenyans laughed at Oburu's faint energy, unconvincing gravitas and ridiculous urgency given the seriousness of the topic at hand.

As he stares into the crowd with his languid eyes, frail gestures and flagging spirit, Oburu Oginga makes it clear each day he has no business filling the shoes of a man as enigmatic, as phenomenal and as wondrously exciting as Raila Odinga.

He's an unfitting occupant of the Raila throne, as he lacks not just the vision or the fidelity to the masses, but also the grandiose pomposity of Baba.

Unlike Raila, who was the personification of ODM, and who carried the party's ideals and imaginative inspiration with him, wearing the full armour of the movement and remaining steadfastly committed to the cause, Oburu appears to be merely a bumper sticker; a tiny thing quickly affixed onto a moving bus, and a thing as inconsequential as it's meagre size compared to ODM's national hegemony.

Like a marionette, being pulled from all sides, Oburu is merely there for the gimmickry, a guided toy immersed in Kenya's political ventriloquism and a toy soldier packaged as the perfect gift for the State to fidget with.

On October 9 2015, the late Jacob Juma, whose tweets have increasingly been classified as prophetic as Kenya's politics continues to evolve, tweeted: "The biggest luggage in Raila's quest for presidency is Oburu Odinga. He advises Raila wrongly and is a liability to him and the party."

Well, if Juma already saw the charade ten years before Raila's passing, Kenyans can expect a messier debacle ten years after Baba's demise.

Raila's shoes were meant to be filled. Not thoughtlessly dragged through muddy trenches. And by someone who can't even lace them up properly.