When Senator Edwin Sifuna posted a dust-covered photograph from Homa Bay's roads, he ignited a debate that reaches far beyond potholes and unpaved corridors. Governor Gladys Wanga's response reframed the moment as a confrontation with decades of deliberate neglect — a region left behind by four successive national administrations — rather than a verdict on present leadership. The exchange reveals how infrastructure, in places long marginalized, is never merely logistical; it is the accumulated weight of political history made visible in the earth beneath one's feet.
Wanga reframes Homa Bay's dusty roads as symbol of historical neglect, not failure
The dust tells a story. But it is not the story of a people who have failed.
When Sifuna posted that photograph, was he making a fair point about the roads, or was he missing something?
He was seeing what was there—the dust, the blockades, the difficulty of moving through the county. But he was seeing it without the context that makes it mean something. The roads didn't get that way because the people of Homa Bay failed. They got that way because successive governments, going back to independence, chose to invest elsewhere.
But if the roads are that bad now, doesn't that suggest the current government isn't fixing them fast enough?
That's the harder question. Wanga would say that twenty-eight kilometers of the Mbita road in two years is real progress—that it's finally happening. But for someone driving through the dust every day, two years might feel like nothing against fifty years of waiting.
Why does Wanga bring up Tom Mboya and Jaramogi Odinga? What does their death have to do with road conditions in 2026?
Because she's arguing that Homa Bay's marginalization isn't accidental. It's political. Those men were from the region, and their absence from power meant the region lost advocates at the center. It's a way of saying: this isn't just about bad luck or poor planning. It's about power.
Is devolution actually helping, or is it just an excuse for why the county can't fix its own roads?
Wanga's point is that devolution is helping precisely because it gives counties resources and autonomy they didn't have before. But she's also saying that some problems—like a seventy-four-kilometer trunk road—are too big for a county to solve alone. They need the national government to step up.
So what happens if the roads don't get finished? If the dust is still there in another two years?
Then the narrative changes. Right now, Wanga is asking people to see the work being done and to understand the history that created the problem. If that work stalls again, she loses that argument.
Il Polso
- Sifuna's viral photograph — flag in hand, dust on his suit — turned Homa Bay's roads into a national punchline almost overnight.
- Wanga fired back not with defensiveness but with historical indictment, naming four presidents across four decades who left the region's corridors unpaved and its communities isolated.
- The Mbita corridor — 74 kilometers awarded in 2016, stalled twice, and only now seeing 28 kilometers completed — stands as the sharpest evidence of the gap between national promises and county realities.
- Wanga's core argument cuts to the heart of devolution's limits: county governments cannot tarmac trunk roads on county budgets, and without the center investing in the periphery, the dust will remain.
- A long list of ongoing projects — roads, a pier, a fish market, a stadium — signals that the governor intends the story of Homa Bay to be measured in construction timelines, not campaign photographs.
When Senator Edwin Sifuna posted a dust-covered photograph from Homa Bay's roads, he ignited a debate that reaches far beyond potholes and unpaved corridors. Governor Gladys Wanga's response reframed the moment as a confrontation with decades of deliberate neglect — a region left behind by four successive national administrations — rather than a verdict on present leadership. The exchange reveals how infrastructure, in places long marginalized, is never merely logistical; it is the accumulated weight of political history made visible in the earth beneath one's feet.
Senator Edwin Sifuna arrived in Homa Bay on a Sunday with a political convoy, and the roads met him with stones and dust. He posted a photograph — flag in hand, grime on his clothes — with a message suggesting that what people called progress in the county was really just corruption dressed up. The image spread. Kenyans made memes. Homa Bay's infrastructure became a joke.
Governor Gladys Wanga chose not to let it pass quietly. In a statement titled "Beyond the Dust," she reframed what Sifuna had photographed. The dust along the Mbita–Sindo–Kiabuya–Sori corridor was not, she argued, a sign of current failure. It was the residue of four decades of deliberate neglect under Jomo Kenyatta, Daniel Arap Moi, Mwai Kibaki, and Uhuru Kenyatta — a region systematically left behind by the national center. For the people who lived along those roads, the dust was not a metaphor. It determined whether they could reach markets, whether their children could get to school, whether their communities could survive.
The Mbita road told the story most plainly. Seventy-four kilometers long, first awarded in 2016, it stalled almost immediately. Re-awarded in 2020, it stalled again. Only in the past two years had real movement occurred — twenty-eight kilometers now tarmacked under President Ruto's administration. Wanga was direct about why progress had been so slow: roads of this scale require national funding. County budgets and Constituency Development Funds cannot carry them. The center must invest in the periphery, and for decades it had chosen not to.
Wanga also invoked the region's political history — the deaths of Tom Mboya and Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, the long exclusion of Homa Bay's leaders from national power, and the hope that devolution might finally return to communities a share of resources once concentrated at the top. She was not apologetic about that history. She was angry, and she was building.
She named the projects now underway: more than a dozen road corridors across the county, a pier, a modern fish market, a stadium, and market infrastructure. The dust was real, she acknowledged. The historical deficit was undeniable. But so was the construction now visible on the ground — and the question, she implied, was whether anyone would look past a single photograph long enough to see it.
Senator Edwin Sifuna arrived in Homa Bay on a Sunday with the Linda Mwananchi team, a political convoy moving through the county to hold rallies. The roads forced them off the main highway. Sections were blocked with stones. Dust coated everything. Sifuna, covered in it himself, posted a photograph holding the Kenyan flag with a message that cut: the shiny things people claimed to see in Homa Bay were really just corruption, and the dust was relentless. The post spread online. Kenyans made memes. The infrastructure of the county became a punchline.
Governor Gladys Wanga did not let the moment pass. She issued a statement titled "Beyond the Dust: Homa Bay's Long Road from Marginalisation to Transformation," and in it she reframed what Sifuna had seen. The dust on the Mbita–Sindo–Kiabuya–Sori corridor, she argued, was not evidence of failure by the people of Homa Bay. It was evidence of a region that had waited decades for the infrastructure it deserved. The roads told a story, but not the one Sifuna was telling. They told the story of a place systematically neglected across four decades and four presidents—Jomo Kenyatta, Daniel Arap Moi, Mwai Kibaki, and Uhuru Kenyatta. For the people who lived along those roads, the dust was not a symbol or a metaphor. It was a daily fact that determined whether they could reach markets, whether their businesses could survive, whether their communities could grow.
Wanga pointed to the Mbita road as the clearest example. Seventy-four kilometers long, it was first awarded as a project in 2016 under Kenyatta's administration. It stalled. Only seven kilometers were completed. In 2020 it was re-awarded. Again, little happened. Only in the last two years, under President William Ruto, had real progress been made—twenty-eight kilometers tarmacked, with work still ongoing. The governor was clear about why: major trunk roads like this one could not be fixed with county budgets or Constituency Development Funds. They required national resources. They required the center to invest in the periphery.
But Wanga's response went deeper than infrastructure timelines. She invoked the political history of the region itself. Tom Mboya, the Cabinet minister, was dead. Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, the Vice President, was dead. Their absence from power, she suggested, had shaped Homa Bay's trajectory. Many residents believed that if Raila Odinga had become president, the region would have received the development it was owed. Devolution itself—the system of county government that had been championed for decades by leaders like Odinga—was finally giving places like Homa Bay a voice in their own development, a share of resources that had once been hoarded at the center. Wanga was not embarrassed by that history. She was angry about it, and she was determined to move past it.
She listed the projects now underway: the Mbita corridor, roads across Suba South, the Lala–Ruga, Nyalkinyi–Imbo, Gor Mahia Ring Road, Rangwe–Oboke, Rangwe–Ndiru, Kadel–Kanyadhiang–Kilusi–Opanga–Ramba, Kadongo–Lida, Adiedo–No. Karabok, Agolo Muok–Seka–Otati, Lwanda–Osodo–Kanyakiamo, Nyabera–Corner Koguta, Njeri–Pala, and the Sindo Town road network. Beyond roads, there was the Homa Bay Pier, a Modern Fish Market, Raila Odinga Stadium, Economic Stimulus Programme markets, Rusinga Road, and Mfangano Ring Road. The dust was real, she said. The historical deficit was real. But so was the transformation now underway. The question was not whether Homa Bay had been neglected—that was beyond dispute. The question was whether anyone was paying attention to what was being built now, and whether that work would be allowed to continue without being reduced to a photograph and a joke.
Citazioni salienti
The dust on the Mbita–Sindo–Kiabuya–Sori corridor tells a story. But it is not the story of a people who have failed. It is the story of a region that has waited far too long for the infrastructure required to unlock its potential.— Governor Gladys Wanga
It is devolution, championed for decades by leaders including Raila Odinga, that has begun to give counties like Homa Bay a say over their own development and a share of resources once concentrated at the centre.— Governor Gladys Wanga