The news of Raila Odinga’s death landed like a thunderbolt across Kenya. Within hours, the country fell into disbelief, grief, and confusion.
As citizens struggled to process the loss of a man who had shaped opposition politics for decades, another unexpected development quietly began to unfold on social media.
Amid the mourning messages, old photos, and emotional tributes, a strange new face started appearing again and again on Kenyan timelines.
The man was large-set, cheerful-looking, and unfamiliar. He smiled broadly in nearly every image and video. He appeared relaxed, confident, and strangely close to Raila Odinga. Yet most Kenyans had never seen him before.
He was not a known politician. He was not a long-time ally whose name regularly appeared in headlines. He was not a family member. And yet, there he was—everywhere.
What confused people most was not just his sudden visibility, but the level of intimacy he seemed to enjoy with Raila Odinga in the weeks before the veteran leader’s death.
While many of Raila’s associates were household names—senior politicians, party officials, and influential figures—Salah appeared to have come from nowhere. No one could explain how or when he became so close to Kenya’s most consequential opposition figure.
Videos posted on Salah’s X account showed him walking beside Raila, laughing with him, dancing at events, sitting next to him, and posing for selfies. The account itself raised eyebrows.
It had been created barely a month before Raila passed away. Yet it already contained intimate footage that suggested deep trust and proximity. Salah was always present, always smiling, always looming close.
Physically, he stood out. He was tall and heavyset, with thick curly hair and a loud, energetic presence.
He smiled often, spoke confidently, and carried himself like someone who belonged at the centre of things
. At the same time, he was careful with his words, often sounding guarded, as if every sentence had been calculated.
Around him, Raila Odinga appeared unusually relaxed. Even as his health visibly declined, Raila seemed amused by Salah’s company.
He laughed with him, allowed him space, and appeared comfortable letting him take charge of aspects of his daily movements. To observers, it looked like a sudden and intense friendship formed late in Raila’s life.
But the speed of it all unsettled people. Salah had no clear background in politics. He had not been introduced gradually.
He had not earned public recognition over years. One moment, Kenyans did not know him. The next, he was inseparable from Raila Odinga.
Questions quickly followed.
Who was he? Where had he come from? Why now?
Before Raila travelled to Dubai and later India for medical treatment, the opposition leader publicly acknowledged Salah at a large rally.
Standing before thousands, Raila praised him warmly and described him in terms that suggested a deep personal bond.
Using his trademark charisma, Raila effectively sold this unfamiliar figure to the crowd as someone important.
Salah then took the microphone. Speaking briefly in Dholuo, he expressed humility and loyalty.
He introduced himself to a public that had only moments earlier been staring at him in confusion. He also made a significant cash donation—Ksh.1 million—framing it as a gesture of condolence and solidarity.
In Kenyan politics, money often speaks louder than introductions, and the move helped legitimize him, at least temporarily.
As Raila’s condition worsened and eventually ended in death, Salah’s presence only grew stronger.
In the chaotic days before and after the announcement, he was everywhere.
News footage showed him constantly. Social media updates from his account detailed Raila’s final moments. He appeared at meetings, vigils, and planning sessions.
Suddenly, a man Kenyans had known for barely two weeks was playing a central role in national events.
He spoke at major political gatherings. He was involved in funeral arrangements. He stood beside Mama Ida repeatedly.
He made authoritative statements about Raila’s death. He interacted openly with top government figures, including individuals linked to State House.
At Kang’o ka Jaramogi, where mourners gathered to pay their respects, Salah was impossible to miss.
He towered over crowds, dressed in flashy clothes, smiling confidently, moving as though he carried official authority.
Yet something about him felt off. His face was still unfamiliar. His clothes felt out of place. His expressions puzzled people. His role remained unclear.
When questioned, he referred to himself simply as “Raila’s son.” That answer only deepened the confusion.
In a matter of weeks, Oketch Salah had gone from complete obscurity to near-constant visibility. The speed of his rise alone made people uneasy.
As tensions began to emerge within ODM, Salah added fuel to the fire. He publicly claimed that Raila had confided in him during his final days and had warned him about certain party figures.
At a December 24, 2025 event in Rarieda, Salah alleged that Raila had expressed concern about Nairobi Senator Edwin Sifuna, suggesting he might be working for rival forces.
According to Salah, Raila had told him to stop trusting Sifuna. These claims shocked many and angered others.
To critics, it looked like a man with questionable legitimacy speaking on behalf of the dead to influence ongoing political battles.
ODM members began pushing back. Some openly questioned Salah’s authenticity. Others rejected his authority outright. The discomfort was obvious.
In response, Salah defended himself strongly. He stated that he had been with Raila from the moment he fell ill until his last breath.
He insisted that his presence was real, permitted, and intentional. He claimed that he and Raila had held many private discussions—personal, political, and strategic—but said he would not reveal details out of respect.
He denied trying to replace Raila’s family or undermine them. He argued that he was being unfairly turned into a villain for internal political reasons.
Despite the backlash, Salah continued behaving like a major player. He hosted and met prominent figures, particularly from Somali regions, acting like an unofficial envoy.
In a single month, he interacted with Puntland President Said Abdullahi Deni, Somali presidential candidate Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed, Cabinet Secretary Wycliffe Oparanya, MP Aduma Owuor, and musician Prince Indah.
Yet at home, the Odinga family remained unconvinced. Winnie Odinga dismissed him lightly, saying no one really knew him. Raila Junior responded even more bluntly, calling the entire matter “nonsense.”
That summed it up.
Despite his visibility, his access, and his confidence, Oketch Salah remains an enigma. People may tolerate him.
They may sit with him. They may let him speak. But the truth remains uncomfortable and unchanged.
Nobody really knows Oketch Salah.
