Jimi Wanjigi is pitching a car to frustrated Kenyans still asking for a faster horse.
His message isn’t about tinkering with the system; it’s about disrupting it. Could he and his Safina Party be to Kenya’s politics what Uber was to taxis—or Airbnb to hotels? An unexpected disruptor slipping through cracks the establishment never thought could break? Or will he, like so many fintechs that once promised to dethrone banks, find that entrenched systems bend, absorb, and ultimately outlast the challenger?
The question may sound dramatic, but it isn’t without precedent. Disruption often looks impossible—until it happens. For decades, traditional taxi drivers operated under licenses, regulations, and informal cartels. Then came Uber. Born in a garage, it crept into the system through unnoticed cracks. Suddenly, it took over, forcing governments and drivers to rethink what a “taxi” meant. Ditto Airbnb and the idea of a “hotel.”
Taxi drivers fought back with fury—blocking roads, protesting, even burning Uber cars. But the tide didn’t stop. Uber had rewritten the rules. Airbnb did the same, and cities are still struggling to regulate it.
Disruption as a Double-Edged Sword
Disruption is seductive. It carries with it the promise of efficiency, innovation, and progress. Uber transformed not just taxis, but how we think of movement. Airbnb altered how people experience travel. Even M-Pesa forced global banks to rethink money transfer.
But disruption can also be reversible—or worse, absorbed by the very systems it sought to upend. Fintechs are a cautionary tale. In the early 2000s, fintech start-ups declared that banks were dinosaurs, destined for extinction. They built shiny apps and promised seamless banking. Some even predicted the collapse of brick-and-mortar banking.
Two decades later, the picture is mixed. While fintech has undeniably reshaped financial services—think MPESA —banks remain strong. Bastions of “We’ve always done it this way.” Why? Because banks still control the licenses, the regulatory relationships, and the trust of millions.
In short, disruption is not automatic. Sometimes the incumbent system fights back successfully. Sometimes, as in the case of fintechs, they adapt, absorb, or co-opt the disruptors.
So, when Wanjigi positions himself as the outsider, the maverick who will challenge Kenya’s entrenched political and economic order, the question begs: is this Uber or fintech? A permanent shift, or just noise that the system will eventually swallow?
Now we’ve been there and have the T-shirt. Kenyans have tasted disruption before. When Mwai Kibaki was elected by a landslide in 2002, the world ranked us the most optimistic people alive. His government unleashed free primary education, ignited infrastructure, and expanded freedoms. But the turnaround, though dramatic, was not irreversible. Old habits of corruption, patronage, and political recycling crept back in, dulling that optimism. If Wanjigi is to be Kenya’s Uber moment, he must solve what Kibaki could not: how to make disruption stick.
Disruption and Its DNA
At the heart of disruption is one principle: the ability to see opportunity where others only see tradition. Uber spotted inefficiency in the way taxis operated. Airbnb saw underutilized housing space. Fintechs saw the friction in banking services and tried to smooth it out.
Wanjigi, a businessman turned political figure, sees cracks in Kenya’s political and economic structures—cracks that can be exploited to birth a new order. He paints himself as an outsider unafraid to shake the establishment.
But disruption is never only about the disruptor. It’s about timing, technology, and the readiness of the public to embrace change. Uber thrived because smartphones had reached critical mass, internet connectivity was widespread, and consumers were frustrated with taxis. Airbnb blossomed because millennials were craving authenticity, travel had become global, and property owners were eager to earn extra cash.
The question is: are Kenyans ready for a Wanjigi-shaped disruption? Will Wanjigi be Uber—forcing the old guard to bend to his model—or will he be fintech—bold, noisy, innovative, but ultimately absorbed or side-lined by the entrenched system? Are the disruption-ducks in a row?
The clues are there.
Kenya’s Sleeping Giant: Gen Z
If disruption is to succeed, it won’t come only from rallies, talk shows, podcasts or lobbying firms. It will come from the youth.
In 2022, over 8 million registered voters—mostly young—chose not to vote. A further 5.7 million youth are eligible for registration, according to Daily Nation. Add to that these staggering facts: the average age in Kenya is 19.2, and 70% of Kenyans are under 35. This is not a side constituency—it is the country.
And their silence has since turned into noise. From TikTok to Twitter, Gen Z has mobilized protests, exposed hypocrisy with memes, and reframed national debates. They are impatient, digitally savvy, and impossible to herd. They have described themselves as tribeless, leaderless and party less.
But here lies the danger of reversibility. The same Gen Z who threatened to occupy State House later marched there 10,000 strong to collect handouts. And for all their noise online and in the streets, they are also the generation most likely to stay away from the ballot. A movement that looks like a revolution can just as easily dissolve into apathy. Just as Kibaki’s optimism once proved reversible, so too can Gen Z’s fire if it is not anchored in something deeper than outrage. This, still to be understood generation, is quite the paradox.
For Wanjigi, this is both opportunity and risk. If Wanjigi can authentically tap into their frustrations and present tangible solutions—particularly around jobs, education, and debt relief—he may find himself riding the wave of Kenya’s sleeping giant. If not, they will dismiss him as another suit with recycled promises.
Wanjigi’s Disruptive Playbook
To judge whether he can be the Uber of Kenya’s polities, let’s look at what he has done:
- Contrarian resilience: A billionaire businessman whose home has been raided by two successive regimes, Wanjigi has fashioned himself as the perennial outsider — too big to ignore, too stubborn to silence.
- Legal innovation: He famously introduced Kenyans to the concept of anticipatory bail — bail granted in anticipation of arrest. A legal shield that underscored both his resourcefulness and his willingness to challenge the state head-on. To some, it was a masterstroke that exposed cracks in the system; to others, it was proof of a man willing to exploit the law for survival. In doing so, he has positioned himself as a modern, not legacy politician — someone embodying change rather than defending inheritance. An architect of the future, not a caretaker of the past.
- Entrepreneurial instincts: From private garbage collection in Nairobi from the Moi era to multi-million dollar internationally sourced infrastructure financing, the Kibaki one, he has shown an ability to spot inefficiency and mobilize resources.
- Policy positions: He has called for elections to be brought forward to 2026 as per the constitution, railed against odious debt, unsustainable public debt and over taxation, and defended the right of citizens to protest.
- Debt rejection: Wanjigi has gone further to flatly reject the idea that Kenyans must service odious debt — money borrowed unconstitutionally by past regimes. He frames it as a yoke to be cut off, much like Mozambique did, arguing that citizens should not be enslaved by obligations incurred outside constitutional bounds. In his reckoning, debt relief of just 20% — over KSh 2 trillion annually — would be more than enough to fund free education for every Kenyan from pre-unit to university and to guarantee unlimited healthcare by simply presenting an ID card. For Wanjigi, the battlefield of politics should be the economy, not tribe.
- Global reach: He has even hired a U.S. lobbying firm to amplify his message abroad.
And then there are the moments that reveal his appetite for confrontation. After his arrest in 2024, he stared into the camera and chillingly declared: “William Ruto, I’m coming for you.” It was not the language of consensus, but of a disruptor determined to take on the incumbent head-on.
The Disruptor’s Dilemma
Every disruptor faces a dilemma: how to break in without being crushed. Uber ignored regulations until it had enough users to fight back. Airbnb sidestepped hotel laws until it was too big to ignore. Fintechs learned the hard way that without licenses and partnerships, they couldn’t topple banks.
Wanjigi faces his own version of this dilemma. Politics is not tech—it is messy, tribal, and deeply personal. It is fuelled by money, alliances, and decades-old networks. To disrupt it, one must either bypass it entirely (like MPESA did banks) or infiltrate it from within.
An insider himself, which path will he take? And even if he succeeds in shaking the table, will Kenyans embrace him—or will the system absorb him as it has so many others?
Kenya’s Appetite for Change
Kenya has a curious relationship with disruption. On one hand, it is the land of M-Pesa, the fintech that shook the global banking establishment and forced even regulators to adjust. On the other, it is the land where powerful cartels, entrenched systems, and traditional politics have a way of swallowing rebels whole. Handshakes, coalitions, broad-based governments—and even the courts thwarting his 2022 presidential bid—all reveal a system well-versed in protecting itself.
Kenyans are restless. They are weary of corruption, frustrated by economic stagnation, and sceptical of political recycling. Yet, at the same time, they are cautious. Change in Kenya often excites in theory but falters in practice. Wanjigi has tapped into this restlessness by refusing to legitimize what he calls the “grand heist” — the trillions borrowed unconstitutionally by past regimes and unaccounted for.
If Wanjigi wants to be Kenya’s Uber moment, he must present not just rhetoric but a tangible, workable alternative. Disruption is not just about attacking the old system—it’s about building something so useful, so irresistible, that people can’t imagine going back.
And yet, it’s worth remembering: had Airbnb, M-Pesa, or Uber been pitched to you at inception, you likely would have dismissed them with a shrug— “What people want is a faster horse, not this thing you are calling a car.”
The Unanswered Question
Could Jimi Wanjigi be the Uber to taxis or the Airbnb to hotels? Maybe. But he could also be another fintech—bold, innovative, and noisy, but ultimately unable to dethrone the old order. The true test will not be in how loudly he challenges the establishment, but in whether he can build something Kenyans actually want, trust, and adopt. Because disruption, at its core, is not about the disruptor. It is about the people who decide that the old way no longer works. And in today’s Kenya, those people are overwhelmingly young. The question is: will Gen Z see Wanjigi as their Uber moment—or just another old taxi with a fresh coat of paint?
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