Kenya’s Muslim population, making up over thirty percent of the citizenry, predominantly resides in the North Eastern, Upper Eastern, Coastal, and parts of Nairobi. Historically, these regions, and the communities inhabiting them, have borne the brunt of both colonial and post-independence marginalization. From being excluded in national policymaking to enduring systemic discrimination, especially in the North and the Coast, the Muslim population’s path to national integration has been long and tortuous.
A turning point came in the early 1980s when a military officer from North Eastern Kenya played a crucial role in aborting a coup attempt, earning some recognition for his people. The subsequent decades saw gradual but tangible improvements. Individuals from these regions began to occupy senior positions in government, military, and public service. Yet, the legacy of marginalization never fully vanished, particularly when the presidency returned to the so-called “Mountain region,” which has historically shown discomfort with Muslim-majority regions.
In the current political landscape, a new formation led by former Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua and former Interior Cabinet Secretary Fred Matiang’i has raised serious concerns among Kenyan Muslims. This concern is not without basis.
Rigathi Gachagua’s political rhetoric has consistently reflected discomfort, if not outright hostility, toward the Somali and Muslim communities. His fixation on Mountain-centric representation, coupled with his unrelenting opposition to businesses run by Somalis—especially in Eastleigh, paints a picture of exclusion. His advocacy for the divisive “one man, one shilling, one vote” policy, previously rejected for its implications on resource distribution, stands as a deliberate strategy to sideline Muslim-dominated, sparsely populated regions.
Even more troubling is Rigathi’s criticism of prominent Muslims in government, notably his attacks on former Director of Public Prosecutions Noordin Haji, whom he once publicly accused of incompetence. His position on national security appointments also suggests an undercurrent of ethnic bias.
Fred Matiang’i’s record as Interior Cabinet Secretary is equally troubling. His tenure was marked by allegations of abductions, enforced disappearances, and extra-judicial killings—many of whose victims were Muslim. For the communities of Garissa, Mandera, Wajir, Lamu, and Mombasa, his name conjures memories of state brutality, not security.
Other members of this political alliance, including George Natembeya and Martha Karua, have also displayed patterns of rhetoric or action that alienate Muslims.
Natembeya’s support for the controversial vetting of national ID applicants—a practice long decried for denying Muslims their citizenship rights—signals continued endorsement of discriminatory systems.
Karua’s past reference to Northern Kenya Muslims as “refugees” questions her commitment to their inclusion.
Kalonzo Musyoka, known for his indecisiveness and shifting allegiances, fails to inspire trust among many in the region.
In contrast, President William Ruto, despite prior political skepticism from some quarters, has demonstrated an openness and inclusivity that has resonated with the Muslim communities. His administration has made deliberate efforts to integrate and incorporate these regions into mainstream governance. His selection of Cabinet members, inclusion of Muslims in key positions, frequent visits to historically marginalized areas, and the scrapping of discriminatory practices like the vetting of ID applicants signal a significant shift.
The Ruto administration, while not perfect, has given Muslim communities a sense of visibility and participation in the national agenda that had long been denied. This is a sharp contrast to the exclusionary overtones of the Rigathi-Matiang’i-led formation, which appears rooted in centralization of power and exclusion of the periphery.
In conclusion, the new political alliance led by Rigathi Gachagua and Fred Matiang’i represents a step backward for Kenya’s Muslims. Their track records and rhetoric have fueled fears of renewed marginalization, exclusion, and ethnic profiling. On the other hand, President Ruto’s government, by virtue of its actions and outreach, has positioned itself as a more inclusive and representative leadership for all Kenyans, especially the long-neglected Muslim regions. For this reason, any serious political engagement by Kenyan Muslims must consider both history and current realities when evaluating their place in Kenya’s evolving democratic landscape.
Wabillahi Towfiq!
