THE DEATH OF FESTUS FRED AMINO.

Today, with heavy hearts we mourn a dear friend, a brother, and a companion on life’s journey, Festus Amimo. His passing has left a deep pain in our hearts, a silence that words struggle to fill.

Festus was more than just a friend.

He was a man of kindness, humility, and unwavering loyalty. He had a way of making those around him feel valued, heard, and supported. Whether through his laughter, his counsel, or his quiet presence, Festus touched the lives of many in ways that will never be forgotten.

It is difficult to accept that someone so full of life, so generous in spirit, has left us so suddenly. But even in our sorrow, we give thanks for the time God allowed us to share with him. We thank God for his friendship, his courage, and the love he freely gave.

MEET KENYA'S EARLY LEADERS.

ERIC EDWARD KHASAKHALA: THE LOYALIST WHO NEVER ROSE 

Eric Edward Khasakhala’s political life reads less like a triumphalist independence story and more like a quiet indictment of how power actually works in Kenya. He was present at the creation of the republic, sat in the rooms where the future was negotiated, and helped assemble the machinery of the postcolonial state. Yet when authority was finally distributed, he remained permanently adjacent to it—useful, visible, but never decisive.

He entered politics from education, not agitation. Where many of his contemporaries rose through confrontation and theatrical defiance, Khasakhala came armed with administration, discipline, and belief in institutions. He believed that independence would be secured not merely by removing colonial rulers but by building systems that could outlive personalities. That belief shaped his career and ultimately limited it. Kenya’s early political order did not reward builders; it rewarded consolidators.

As a senior KADU figure, Khasakhala backed federalism at a time when the momentum of history was moving in the opposite direction. The postcolonial elite wanted a strong center, not empowered regions. When KADU collapsed into KANU, Khasakhala crossed over, but the suspicion never lifted. Federalists were tolerated as a gesture of national unity, not embraced as equals. He survived politically, but survival came at the cost of influence.

His tenure in education revealed both his strengths and his fatal misreading of Kenyan politics. As Assistant Minister for Education, he pursued the unglamorous work of restructuring early education and expanding local capacity. While others courted donors and scholarships abroad, he focused on schools at home. It was sound policy but poor spectacle. In a political culture that rewarded visibility over durability, his achievements were too quiet to protect him.

For all his conciliatory instincts, Khasakhala was unyielding when it came to land and identity. His defense of Bunyore interests, particularly during the Maseno debates, exposed the limits of post-independence unity. Parliament was civil on the surface, but beneath it lay unresolved colonial boundaries and ethnic competition. When Khasakhala refused to retreat, he crossed an invisible line. The system can forgive ambition; it rarely forgives defiance without numbers.

His greatest political loyalty became his greatest vulnerability. His close association with Tom Mboya placed him on the wrong side of power after Mboya’s assassination. In a period defined by fear and consolidation, neutrality was impossible. Khasakhala did not renounce friendships or rewrite his past to please the regime. He attended the funeral. He remained visible. He was quietly marked. From then on, advancement ended. He would serve, but he would not rise.

The 1969 electoral defeat was less a personal failure than a warning shot. It demonstrated that seniority offered no protection in a system increasingly hostile to independent political bases. Courts provided no remedy, and the lesson was unmistakable: legitimacy now flowed from the center, not the electorate. Though he later returned to Parliament, the rules had changed. By the time of the mlolongo elections, his fate was administrative rather than democratic.

Under Moi, Khasakhala was managed with courtesy and containment. Assistant ministerial roles, cultural leadership, ceremonial respect—enough to honor his history, never enough to empower his future. Others with sharper elbows and looser loyalties rose past him. He remained faithful, even when faith brought no reward.

In the end, Khasakhala’s career exposes a hard truth about Kenyan politics: integrity may earn admiration, but it rarely earns power. He was too principled to conspire, too loyal to defect, too restrained to dominate. He believed politics could be ethical in a system built on calculation.

In death, the nation gathered to praise what it had sidelined in life. Unity was proclaimed, virtues celebrated, loyalty honored. But the applause came too late to alter the verdict of his career. Eric Edward Khasakhala did not fail in politics. Politics failed to find use for a man like him.

HOW TO LIVE A HAPPY LIFE IN MARRIAGE.

MEN, READ THIS BEFORE YOU DESTROY YOUR OWN HOME

Too many husbands lose their wives’ respect not because they cheat, but because they don’t know how to correct her without breaking her spirit.

You think you’re “leading,” but you’re actually crushing the very heart that’s supposed to support you.

You think shouting makes you a man — it makes you insecure.

You think comparing her to other women will motivate her — it will make her resent you.

Listen, brother…

If you want a wife who respects you, admires you, and stands by you for life, you must correct her like a king — not condemn her like an enemy.

A real man can lead his home without wounding his woman.

Here’s how:

1. LOWER YOUR VOICE

She’s your wife, not your child. Speak with authority, not aggression. Calm words carry more weight than loud ones.

2. DO IT IN LOVE

Correction without love becomes condemnation. When you speak from love, she’ll hear your heart, not your anger.

3. STOP CRITICIZING

Criticism kills connection. Correction builds growth. Offer solutions, not insults.

4. PRAISE HER FOR WHAT IS RIGHT

If you only correct and never appreciate, you’ll drain her spirit. Praise her effort, not just results.

5. NEVER DO IT BEFORE YOUR CHILDREN

A king doesn’t embarrass his queen in front of the kingdom. Correct her privately, honor her publicly.

6. NEVER DO IT IN PUBLIC

You destroy her confidence when you shame her in front of others. Real men protect their wives’ image, even in conflict.

7. DON’T CORRECT IN ANGER

When you’re angry, stay silent. Words from fury wound deeper than fists. Speak only when peace has returned.

8. DON’T COMPARE HER

Comparison kills contentment. She’s your wife, not a copy of someone else’s. Appreciate her individuality.

9. LEAVE THE PAST WHERE IT BELONGS

Don’t weaponize old mistakes. Handle today’s issue today. Mature men move forward.

10. NEVER ATTACK HER WOMANHOOD

Insults like “and you call yourself a woman?” are poison. You can’t build a queen by breaking her crown.

11. NEVER ATTACK HER DIGNITY

Belittling her intelligence or worth makes you a tyrant, not a leader. Gentlemen correct with grace.

12. CHOOSE THE RIGHT TIME

Correction in the heat of anger only fuels the fire. Wait for calm — that’s when wisdom works.

13. LEAD BY EXAMPLE

You can’t demand excellence while doing nothing. Help her, support her, and she’ll follow your lead naturally.

FINAL NOTE

If you want your wife to be an angel in your life, create a heaven for her to live in. A real man doesn’t dominate — he builds, protects, and leads with love.

AN AMAZING STORY OF A CLIENT IN A HOTEL.

A handsome man went into a hotel and asked to see the boss. When the boss came, the story began.

 

-The client: is room 39 empty?

-The boss: yes, sir.

-The client: can I book it?

-The boss: of course you can.

-The client: thank you.

Before going to the room, the client asked the boss to provide him with a black knife, a white thread 39 cm and an orange 73g.

The boss agreed though he was surprized at the weird things the client asked to have.

The client went into his room, he didn't ask for food or anything else.

Unfortunately for the boss, his room was next to room 39.

After midnight, the boss heard strange voices and noise in that client's room. Voices of wild animals and of utensils and dishes being thrown on the floor.

The boss didn't sleep that night. He kept thinking and wondering what might be the source of the noise.

In the morning, when the client handed the keys to the boss, the latter asked to see the room first.

He went to the room and found everything alright. Nothing unusual. He even found the thread, the black knife and the orange on the table.

The client paid the bill and gave the bellboys a very good tip and left the hotel smiling.

The boss was in a shock but he didn't reveal what he heard to the bellboys. In fact, he started to doubt himself.

After one year, the client showed up again. He asked to see the boss again. The boss was in a puzzle.

The client asked the same things: room 39, black knife, white thread 39cm and an orange 79g.

This time, the boss wanted to know the truth by all means possible. He spent a sleepless night, waiting for something to happen. After midnight, the same voices and noises started, this time louder and more indecipherable than the year before.

Again, before leaving, the client paid his bill and left a large tip on the table for the bellboys. The smile didn't leave his face.

The boss started searching for the meaning of everything the client asked to have. Why did he ask room 39? why the white thread? why the black knife??? In fact, the boss didn't arrive to any convincing answer to all these questions.

The boss now was eagerly waiting for the month of March, the month in which the client showed up. 

To his surprise, on the first day of March, the same client showed up. He asked the same questions. Wanted to book the same room, wanted to have the same things as before.

The boss again heard the same noises, this time more louder than before.

In the morning, when the client was leaving the hotel, the boss apologized politely to the client and asked to know the secret behind the noises in the room.

-''If I tell you the secret, do you promise to never reveal it to anyone else?''

-''I promise I will never let anyone know''.

-''Swear''

-''I swear I won't reveal your secret''

So finally, the client revealed his secret to the boss. 

Unfortunately, the boss was a sincere person. Until now he hasn't revealed his secret to anyone.

When he does, I will let you know... thank you for reading.

LARRY MADOWE HIGHLIGHTS ON AFRICAN LEADERSHIP.

ITS TIME TO READ LEARN SOMETHING ABOUT AFRICAN LEADERSHIP.
If African presidents are not keen this time round, Larry Madowo might indirectly push them into uncomfortable global scrutiny, the kind that lands leaders answering tough questions before institutions like the ICC.

The way he exposes loopholes, highlights government excesses, and shines a spotlight on hidden political games is something many leaders underestimate. Larry is not just a journalist—he’s a global voice with a massive platform, a man who can turn a local scandal into an international headline within minutes.

African presidents must understand that this era of digital journalism is unforgiving. One investigative story, one viral documentary, or one explosive interview can change the narrative of an entire administration. And once the world begins to pay attention, international bodies follow closely.

So if leaders continue ignoring accountability, transparency, and the rule of law, they shouldn’t be surprised when Larry’s storytelling becomes the spark that attracts global investigators, human-rights monitors, and international observers who dig deeper than anyone expected.

In short, if they’re not careful, Larry Madowo won’t take them to the ICC—but their own actions might, and his reporting will simply light the path for the world to see what their perception is.