It is difficult to reconcile the image of the once-celebrated Gen-Z hero, who danced on the streets of Nairobi and inspired his peers with his mobilisation skills, with the man now breaking a leg on podiums alongside those he once called oppressors.
If Rex Maasai, the fallen comrade whose death became a symbol of the struggle, were to wake up today, he would likely be heartbroken to see Kasmuel Mc’Oure draped in orange regalia, sharing stages with the very forces against which they fought.
The June demonstrations were not the usual political theatrics Kenyans witness every election cycle. They were not led by disgruntled politicians seeking to reclaim lost power, nor were they fueled by the frustrations of young men and women merely venting their anger. These protests were a watershed moment—a collective cry for a future where Kenyans would no longer be shepherded like sheep into political choices that only benefit the shepherds. The youth demanded accountability, transparency, and a say in shaping their destiny.
Kasmuel Mc’Oure was at the forefront of this movement, a symbol of hope and resistance. His gift of the garb was seen as an asset and thus became a constant feature on our screens. At some point, people even likened him to the charismatic leader of our independence era, Tom Mboya. His decision to join the ODM party’s youth wing thus left many questioning his motives and loyalty.
While he has defended his choice, arguing that aligning with a political party is a personal decision, he must now bear the consequences of being labelled a sellout. No amount of justification or political pampering will shield him from the shame that comes with such a tag.
Imagine this: next time his age mates take to the streets to protest against the government, they will, in essence, be demonstrating against him. Where will his conscience be if more young lives are lost or brutalised in the process? History is replete with examples of those who betrayed their comrades for personal gain. In Zimbabwe, Morrison Nyathi is remembered as the man who sabotaged his fellow freedom fighters by tampering with their weapons, leading to their capture. When under attack they could not fire.
In Kenya’s independence struggle, Ndirangu Mau is infamous for enabling the capture of Mau Mau Field Marshal Dedan Kimathi. Unlike Kasmuel, Ndirangu did not pose as a comrade before betraying his own; he was clearly identifiable as an adversary.
Kasmuel’s predicament is unique. He wants to speak for Gen-Z while dining at the high table with those the movement seeks to hold accountable. This duality will haunt him. While he may enjoy a promising political career under ODM’s patronage, he will face relentless criticism from those who see him as a traitor.
In this digital age, where records are meticulously kept and the internet never forgets, his actions will be scrutinised for years to come. I hope history will be kind to him politically and his end will justify the means, but for now he fails the ethical test. This is a burden he must carry.