As ODM leaders Junet Mohamed and Gladys Wanga urge Kenyans to skip June 25 protests, Don Sami Live asks the hard question: are Cabinet salaries reaching ordinary citizens, or just the political class?
This week, ODM chairperson Gladys Wanga stood before the cameras and told Kenyans plainly: enough with the streets. "Huku kwetu tumesema hatutaenda maandamano tena," she said — back home, we've decided we won't go to the streets again. National Assembly Minority Leader Junet Mohamed echoed her, questioning whether the people calling for the June 25 demonstrations are even the same young voices that started the movement in the first place.
Their message is simple: ODM has reaped big from the broad-based government arrangement with President Ruto. Cabinet slots for John Mbadi at Treasury, Opiyo Wandayi at Energy, Hassan Joho at Mining. Why would anyone disturb a good thing?
But here's where Don Sami Live wants to pause and ask the obvious question nobody in that press conference seemed willing to answer.
The Audit Kenyans Deserve
Is John Mbadi's Cabinet Secretary salary landing in the M-Pesa accounts of ordinary ODM supporters in Nyanza, Nairobi, or anywhere else? Is Opiyo Wandayi's official car, his allowances, his security detail, somehow trickling down to the mama mboga in Kisumu or the boda rider in Migori?
The answer writes itself. These are personal appointments. They come with personal salaries, personal perks, and personal political futures. They do not come with a side benefit for the millions of Kenyans who share a tribe, a region, or a ballot history with the men now sitting in Cabinet.
Notice What They Didn't Say
This is the part that should make every Kenyan sit up. Wanga and Junet did not say "don't protest because fuel prices have dropped." They did not say "don't protest because electricity bills are lighter this month." They did not say "don't protest because the abductions have stopped" or "because the Finance Bill no longer squeezes the common mwananchi."
If any of those were true, that would be a real case. That would be governance Kenyans could feel in their pockets and their daily lives.
Instead, the case being made is this: our people got jobs. Powerful, well-paying jobs. And because those people share your tribe, you should feel represented enough to go home and keep quiet.
Tribal Identity as Political Anesthesia
This is the oldest trick in Kenyan politics, repackaged for 2026. When leaders cannot point to falling living costs, cannot point to jobs for the youth, cannot point to an end to abductions or police brutality, they reach instead for identity. They remind you that "one of us" is now powerful, and they hope that pride substitutes for the policy wins that never came.
It is anesthesia. It numbs the question of whether your own life — your fuel bill, your job prospects, your child's school fees, your safety at a protest — has actually improved. It replaces "what have you delivered for me" with "look who's at the table," as though proximity to power were the same as benefit from power.
Meanwhile, the same report that flagged ODM's Cabinet scramble noted something telling: senior party figures have been accused of focusing more on securing slots in what critics call "the feeding trough" than on pushing through the actual reform agenda the late Raila Odinga signed with Ruto. That is not Don Sami Live's opinion — that is the substance of growing criticism from within ODM's own ranks, including voices like Edwin Sifuna and Babu Owino who have refused to join what they see as a 2027 cheerleading squad.
Who Is Really Reaping?
So when Junet and Wanga tell you to stay home on June 25, ask yourself plainly: who reaped, and who is being asked to absorb the cost of staying silent?
Mbadi reaped. Wandayi reaped. Joho reaped. Their families, their bank accounts, their political relevance heading into 2027 — all reaped.
You, the ordinary Kenyan still paying the same fuel levy, still waiting for the job market to open up, still watching the Finance Bill debates with anxiety — you have not reaped anything from their appointments. Your stomach is still your own problem.
Wake up, Kenya. Look past the tribal comfort being offered to you and ask the only question that matters: has your life gotten better, or has theirs?
