As dusk settled over Nairobi on April 30, 2025, the crack of gunfire shattered the evening calm. Charles Ong’ondo Were, a firebrand opposition MP known for his unflinching criticism of power, slumped in his car seat—another victim in Kenya’s long history of political violence.
“I heard a loud bang, like a firecracker,” whispered Jane Wambui, clutching her unsold vegetables as she recounted the moment. “Then people started screaming. The MP’s car swerved violently while his driver shouted desperately for help.”
The assassination played out with chilling precision. Motorcycle assassins—the signature method of professional hits in Nairobi—had stalked their prey through the capital’s congested streets before striking at the busy Ngong Road roundabout, a location typically crawling with traffic police and under the watchful eye of security cameras.
“The motorbike had been circling for a while,” recalled Paul Otieno, a taxi driver who witnessed the killing. His eyes narrowed as he described the shooter: “He was calm, methodical—like he’d done this before.” This observation, delivered in hushed tones, sent a shiver through those gathered at the scene.
The question hanging in the air: How did the killers strike so boldly, then vanish into Nairobi’s maze of streets despite nearby officers?
Were had sensed his fate approaching. Two months earlier, the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM) legislator had publicly reported threats against his life—warnings that now appear prophetic. His alignment with Raila Odinga, who had challenged President William Ruto’s 2022 election victory, had placed him squarely in dangerous political crosscurrents.
Kenya’s political landscape had grown increasingly treacherous following Odinga’s controversial decision to join Ruto’s “broad-based government.” Were’s stance on this political compromise had potentially made him enemies on multiple fronts—both from hardliners opposed to cooperation and from those threatened by his continued defiance.
At Nairobi Hospital, the frantic efforts of medical staff proved futile. Were was pronounced dead on arrival, his blood-soaked clothing testament to the assassins’ deadly efficiency.
Within hours, the power players descended. Police commanders scoured the scene while President Ruto condemned the killing with practiced gravity, vowing justice. Parliament Speaker Moses Wetang’ula eulogized Were as “fearless and distinguished,” while Odinga, his voice trembling with emotion, called his fallen comrade a “gallant son of the soil.”
The technical investigation has begun—ballistics, camera footage, threat analysis—but in the streets and hushed conversations across Nairobi, Kenyans have already rendered their verdict: another political assassination in a country where the powerful rarely face consequences.
As night fell over Nairobi, Were’s constituents in distant Kasipul lit candles, their grief echoing earlier political tragedies. The burning question remains—was this the isolated elimination of a troublesome voice, or the opening salvo in a new chapter of political bloodshed for a nation still haunted by its violent past?
