Hidden behind a thick curtain of greenery on the outskirts of Kisii town is a modest hotel room that, to an ordinary visitor, might appear unremarkable.
But behind its quiet door lies a deeply personal chapter in the life of one of Kenya’s most recognisable political figures.
At Ufanisi Resort, along the Nyakongo-Masoso road, the secluded room became one of the late Raila Amolo Odinga’s preferred retreats whenever his political travels brought him to the Gusii region.
It was here that the man millions knew as “Baba” could briefly disappear from public view.
Away from the chanting crowds.
Away from cameras and microphones.
Away from the political theatre that followed him almost everywhere.
Inside the room, Raila was not the opposition chief, presidential candidate or political kingmaker.
He was simply a tired traveller looking for somewhere quiet to rest.
One year after his death, that room has acquired a different meaning.
It has become a room of remembrance.
On Friday, Ufanisi proprietor Patrick Lumumba opened its doors to Nationslert TV , preparing to light a candle in honour of the late ODM leader.
For Lumumba, stepping into the room was an emotional journey back to the years when Raila would walk through its doors.
“Every time I enter this room, I remember Baba walking through that door,” Lumumba says.
“I remember the excitement, but I also remember the quiet moments after all the crowds had gone away.”
He pauses.
The memories, it seems, are still heavy.
“Raila was a giant out there. People would wait for hours just to see him. But here, he was our guest. He would come tired from his engagements, close the door and rest. That is the Raila I remember.”
There were also quieter pleasures.
Raila loved football, Lumumba recalls, and would sit on his bed watching his favourite team play on television.
“I could join him, but when he was watching football, it was serious business,” he says with a smile.
“He watched in silence.”
Food was another small window into the private man behind the political giant.
According to Lumumba, Raila enjoyed traditional vegetables such as managu and chinsaga, although he could be particular about what was served.
“He was a bit choosy with food,” Lumumba recalls.
And when evening came, Lumumba says, Raila could quietly enjoy a drink while engaging in conversations with close friends.
“He could sip it quietly as he enjoyed an evening talk with close friends,” he says.
Raila was also an early riser, despite sometimes retiring late.
“He could sleep late but still join the breakfast table by 8am.”
For Lumumba, those seemingly ordinary moments have now become priceless memories.
“The hardest thing is knowing that he will never walk through that door again,” he says.
It is a simple sentence.
But inside the room, it carries enormous weight.
The resort remains.
The trees remain.
The furniture can still be seen.
The room can still be opened.
Only the man is gone.
Ufanisi describes itself as a tranquil retreat surrounded by landscaped grounds and natural tropical vegetation. Its secluded setting has also attracted other prominent guests over the years.
Among them is First Lady Rachel Ruto, who stayed at the facility during political campaigns.
But Raila’s association with the resort occupies a particularly emotional place in Lumumba’s memory.
“We have hosted many important people here, and we are grateful to every one of them,” he says.
“But Baba was different. His visits became part of the history of this place.”
His presence, Lumumba recalls, lingered long after the former Prime Minister had driven away.
“You could feel his presence even after he had left. The staff would talk about him. People outside would talk about him. His name was everywhere.”
Raila’s visits to the Gusii region were often accompanied by huge crowds and intense political activity.
Yet Ufanisi offered him something increasingly rare in his public life — privacy.
“When he came here, we did not see only the politician,” Lumumba says.
“We saw a human being. A father. An elder. A tired traveller who needed somewhere peaceful to put his head down.”
Now Lumumba wants to give the room a permanent connection to the man whose memories it holds.
As candles are lit in his honour, the proprietor says there are plans to consider renaming it Baba’s Room.
“We can do it as a sign of remembering a person who made a lot of political sense to the country,” he says.
The timing is significant.
October has been designated by Raila’s supporters and admirers as “Mwezi wa Baba”, a month of remembrance following his death.
Memorial events and candle-lighting ceremonies are being held in different parts of the country as Kenyans remember the veteran politician.
In Kisii, however, remembrance has taken on a more intimate form.
It is a room.
A bed.
A television.
A quiet corner surrounded by trees.
And the memories of a man who once rested there between political engagements.
Lumumba also remembers one of his final political conversations involving Raila.
According to him, during a telephone conversation at Orange House in Nairobi, Raila spoke to Treasury Cabinet Secretary Junnet Mohammed about Lumumba’s prospects of serving in government.
“How can Lumumba miss out of government, a person who had served us so well?” Lumumba recalls Raila asking.
The two exchanged contacts during the conversation, although Lumumba says the anticipated follow-up never materialised.
“Such was Baba. He was a person who made friends,” he says.
“I don't know if Junnet can recall this, but Baba was different.”
Back inside the room, Lumumba looks around once more.
“You can replace furniture. You can renovate a building. You can plant new trees. But you cannot replace a memory.”
The resort has witnessed many seasons.
Politicians have come and gone.
Campaigns have been won and lost.
Dignitaries have passed through its gates.
But somewhere beneath the thick foliage stands a room that has preserved a small, private fragment of Raila Odinga’s life.
There are no cheering crowds here.
No campaign banners.
No political slogans.
Just a door.
A bed.
Silence.
And memories.
“Sometimes I imagine that he is still here,” Lumumba says softly.
“Then reality comes back. Baba is gone.”
Perhaps that is what makes the room so haunting.
Very little about it has changed.
The door can still open.
The bed can still be made.
The trees still move gently in the breeze.
But the footsteps of the man who once walked through that door have fallen silent.
For Lumumba, opening the door is now like opening an old photograph.
And as Kenya remembers Baba this October, his memory does not always need a stadium, a rally or a political speech.
Sometimes, it lives quietly in a room hidden among the trees.
A room where Raila Odinga once slept.
