In Nairobi, we don’t just have dreams; we have hallucinations fueled by the desperate need for “clout” and the proximity to power. The latest hallucination comes branded with the initials ‘R A O’. Sheila Mutundi, a “Singapore-based businesswoman,” wants us to believe she’s launching ‘Raila Airways’ to fly us from Malaysia to Kenya. It’s a brilliant piece of branding if your goal is to trigger the emotions of a fanatical base while keeping the actual business plan as foggy as a July morning in Limuru. Naming an airline after a politician who is currently auditioning for a retirement home at the AU is the ultimate Kenyan “get-rich-quick” play: find a legacy, slap it on a render, and wait for the investors to get FOMO.
The optics are classic Nairobi. One day you’re spotted in Bali with the President’s son, George Ruto, and the next, you’re naming a fleet after his father’s “handshake” partner. It’s a masterclass in playing both sides of the fence while the rest of us are stuck in the mud. This isn’t about aviation; it’s about the commodification of political loyalty. In a country where the elite dine together while their supporters exchange blows on Twitter, ‘Raila Airways’ is just the latest symbol of a class that has transcended ideology for the sake of the “deal.”
Of course, no Kenyan success story is complete without the mandatory “humble beginnings” narrative. We’re told about the chang’aa brewing and the security guard father - the classic poverty-to-Santorini arc that is meant to silence any questions about where “international investors” actually find the money for a startup airline. In this town, we use our parents’ struggles as a PR shield to deflect from the lack of transparency in our balance sheets. It’s the same script every time: build a house for your parents, take a photo in a private jet, and then announce a project that sounds suspiciously like a tax write-off.
The 2026 launch date is the real punchline. It’s far enough away that we’ll all have forgotten about it when the “preparatory phase” inevitably stalls in some offshore bank account. By then, the political landscape will have shifted, and the name on the fuselage will be as relevant as a 2017 campaign manifesto. As I’ve noted before in The Great Consolidation: Why Your Vanishing Middle Class is a Feature, Not a Bug, the system isn’t designed to lift you up; it’s designed to keep you distracted by shiny, unattainable symbols of wealth while the elite consolidate their grip on every sector - including the literal clouds.
If this airline ever sees a runway, I’ll eat my designer knock-off sunglasses. But let’s be real: we aren’t the target audience for ‘Raila Airways.’ We are just the audience for the press release. We are meant to clap at the audacity, marvel at the “R A O” branding on the headrests, and ignore the fact that our national carrier is on life support while these private “tributes” sprout like weeds. It’s not an airline; it’s a billboard with wings, flying high above the reality of a country that can’t even fix its own roads.
In the end, ‘Raila Airways’ is the perfect metaphor for modern Kenya. It’s expensive, it’s loud, it’s named after a man who has mastered the art of the pivot, and it’s currently going absolutely nowhere. While Mutundi globe-trots from Vietnam to Santorini, the rest of us are left on the ground, watching another “ambitious plan” disappear into the horizon of 2026. Don’t pack your bags just yet; the only thing taking off here is the audacity.