For a man suddenly thrust into the national spotlight, Steve Mwanga speaks with the calm of someone who believes his story has long been misunderstood.
His name first surfaced in whispers and headlines tied to the mysterious circumstances surrounding former Cabinet Secretary Rafael Tuju. But as the narrative quickly took shape, one label stuck; driver.
Mwanga scoffs at it.
“Steve Mwanga is a humble Kenyan citizen, living a modest life, and a very long-time friend… to one Raphael Tuju,” he says, leaning into a past that stretches far beyond the headlines. “Fate finds us in the same space.”
According to him, that “space” was not behind a steering wheel, but in boardrooms and power circles. He recalls serving as a board member at the Lake Basin Development Authority when Tuju chaired it, and later rising within Jubilee Party structures under former President Uhuru Kenyatta.
“When he became Secretary General of Jubilee Party… I was in charge of Kiambu, Murang’a and Nairobi as Regional Director,” Mwanga says. “With the privilege of sitting at the dispute tribunal resolutions committee.”
The Ugenya battle that never was
It is a résumé that sharply contrasts with the image painted in early reports. And Mwanga insists that narrative was no accident.
“Tuju is very easy, in fact, he drives me more than I do,” he quips, before turning philosophical. “The narrative ‘driver’ came from the fact that I have driven people’s lives to positivity.”
Then he drops names— big ones.
“One President William Ruto… one Ababu Namwamba… one Cornel Rasanga… one Moses Kuria… one Raymond Omollo even Oburu Oginga,” he says, ticking them off like milestones. “The true meaning of being a driver.”
Long before his name resurfaced in the Tuju saga, Mwanga says he had already tasted the bitter edge of Kenyan politics.
His battleground? Ugenya. And if you ask him, the victory was his.
“Yes,” he says bluntly when asked if he won. Then, almost as validation, he points to a resurfaced tweet by lawyer Miguna Miguna claiming ODM insiders pushed to hand the nomination to James Orengo despite Mwanga’s win.
But what lingers in his memory is not just the politics, it is what he describes as a chilling episode in the final days before the 2007 General Election.
“What pains me most is what happened on December 21st, 2007 when violence broke and life was lost,” he says, his tone shifting.
Then comes the claim.
“Three days later, the same dead body was retrieved from a morgue in Busia for display in Ugunja to show voters that I was bad.”
He pauses, then adds with quiet bitterness: “Unfortunately, the same people never attended the burial after the elections.”
Pressed further, Mwanga doubles down, offering a vivid account.
“The retrieval of a dead body… was done on Monday, December 24, 2007 at midday,” he says. “An old matatu box ambulance drove in… the body in a blue body bag was pulled out and displayed to voters.”
He insists: “It’s in the public domain as such.”
If Mwanga’s version of events is to be believed, his political downfall was not just local—it was orchestrated at the highest levels.
He paints a picture of a divided ODM leadership at the time, with some backing him and others hesitant.
“Mama Ida took a very hard stand in my favour,” he claims. “Pentagon members William Ruto, Charity Ngilu, Najib Balala were all in my favour.”
But at the centre of it all stood the late Raila Odinga—torn, Mwanga suggests, between loyalty and calculation.
“Raila was conflicted,” he says, before adding a deeply personal note. “This was compounded by the fact that I was a total orphan with no family background identity.”
Even in defeat, he insists, the numbers told a different story.
“Party primaries were conducted twice. The first one I won, the second one I did,” he says. “Of the 16 candidates, if you added the other 15 votes, they could not match mine.”
Yet somehow, the ODM ticket went elsewhere.
“Orengo at one time had given in,” Mwanga claims. “But I am told he was forced to take the certificate.”
Perhaps the most striking part of Mwanga’s narrative is his claimed relationship with President Ruto—one he says dates back to 2006.
“Yes, politics is intricate,” he begins. “I met Ruto in 2006 and we became so close.”
At the time, he says, Ruto was navigating a difficult political transition following his fallout with former President Daniel arap Moi and needed new alliances.
“He needed an outsider like Raila… and in return it was healthy to make his presence felt in Luo Nyanza,” Mwanga explains. “In essence, I am the one who walked with him through Luo Nyanza.”
The Ruto connection and fallout
It is a bold claim, one that, if true, places Mwanga at the heart of one of Kenya’s most significant political realignments.
But it came at a cost.
“This relationship came with very heavy costings that have negatively impacted my life to this date,” he says.
And then, the fallout.
“In 2008, after the post-election violence, Ruto had to choose,” Mwanga says. “To lobby for a ministerial position… or continue associating with a non-entity as Mwanga.”
He does not need to say what choice was made.
Throughout the conversation, Mwanga returns to one recurring theme— “ethnic gatekeepers.” To him, they are the unseen hands shaping political destinies.
“The ethnic gatekeepers are the benefactors of benefits they collect on behalf of the community and keep forgetting personal benefits,” he says. “Their traits have interfered with political freedoms.”
He believes their influence stretches even into recent elections, hinting at personal losses tied to events at Bomas of Kenya in 2022—now, he says, a matter before the courts.
As the conversation circles back to Tuju, Mwanga is careful—almost protective.
“Tuju has made it very clear that the properties in question were genuinely acquired,” he says, brushing off allegations of impropriety. “He is not in for monkey business.”
What puzzles him, however, is the scale of the state response.
“Why would a government afford 15 new Land Cruisers with over 70 police officers for three weeks on seven hectares of land?” he asks.
Then, with a shrug that seems to define his worldview, he adds:
“It’s the government that has problems with Tuju, not him… he only sells tea and chapati. That’s the modest life we live.”
In the end, Mwanga remains a closed book. To some, he is a fringe political figure seeking relevance. To others, a man with a long memory and unfinished battles.
But in his own telling, he is something else entirely—a political insider sidelined by forces bigger than him, now stepping forward to reclaim his narrative.
Not a driver. But a man who insists he has been steering history all along.
