LUMAKANDA, Kakamega-Dec 29, 2025- The death of former Cabinet Minister and seasoned political operative Cyrus Jirongo has reignited not only memories of his influence in Kenyan politics, but also an unexpected debate that blends culture, symbolism, and political intrigue: whether he should be buried with a torch.
The torch, according to Tiriki culture, whoever was involved in causing Jirongo’s death will also die when the torch goes off inside the grave.
At first glance, the discussion has drawn amused reactions in political circles and on social media. Yet beneath the humor lies a serious conversation about political legacy, cultural identity, and the symbolism of power in Kenya’s succession-driven politics.
In Kenyan politics, the torch has long symbolised leadership, continuity, and ideological inheritance. From independence-era symbolism to modern political movements, carrying the torch has often been associated with passing on authority, vision, or political legitimacy.
For Jirongo, a man who played kingmaker roles behind the scenes and cultivated networks across parties and generations, the idea of a torch has been read by supporters as a metaphor for his enduring influence beyond the grave. To critics, however, the symbolism risks elevating political myth over cultural tradition.
Cultural elders and commentators have weighed in, noting that burial rites are deeply rooted in community customs rather than political theatrics. Among many Kenyan communities, funerals are moments of humility, unity, and return to ancestry-not stages for political messaging.
The tension, therefore, lies in whether modern political symbolism should be woven into sacred cultural rituals. This is a debate Kenya has seen before, where funerals double as political theatres and cultural boundaries are stretched by power and personality.
Cyrus Jirongo was no ordinary politician. A former Youth for KANU ’92 operative, Cabinet Minister, and later party leader, he operated at the crossroads of money, mobilization, and power. His career mirrored Kenya’s political evolution-from single-party dominance to multiparty contestation.
It is this complex legacy that fuels the current debate. For admirers, the torch reflects a life spent shaping political outcomes. For others, it underscores the dangers of politicizing death and tradition.
Kenyan funerals have increasingly become spaces where political statements are made, alliances are tested, and historical narratives are contested. The discussion around Jirongo’s burial is less about the object itself and more about who controls the narrative of his life and influence.
In that sense, the torch debate reveals how power in Kenya often extends beyond life, with funerals serving as final battlegrounds for legacy.
While the idea has sparked humor and memes, the underlying issue is serious: how Kenya remembers its political actors, and who gets to define that memory. The laughter masks an enduring truth—politics in Kenya rarely rests, even in death.
As Cyrus Jirongo is laid to rest on December, 30, in his Lumakanda home in Kakamega county, the debate over the torch reflects a broader national tension between tradition and modern political symbolism, between reverence and power, and between culture and the ever-present contest for political meaning.
