SAM'S SENSE: Heckling choirs for hire

Each leader who took the microphone began the same way: Saluting the Head of State, thanking him for his generosity, his presence, and for “remembering” the people of Karure.

They assured the president that the ground was still with him. That no president had ever stepped foot in that village: And for that, he would be a TUTAM president.

All normal for a political day — even if it was happening in church.

The president did not object.
The church leadership did not object.
The congregation was blessed.

But then, local politics took a darker turn.

One MP stood up and declared that, very soon, she would be in charge of Kiambu County. Some people cheered. Others jeered. The mood was now unmistakably political.

As the hopeful resumed her seat, the sitting governor rose to speak. He worked the crowd, enjoyed the competing voices — cheers on one side, jeers on the other.

And then, the camera strayed. It landed on the gubernatorial hopeful.

She had turned to hand signals. 

We have reviewed the footage carefully. The gestures appear deliberate and timed to coincide with the crowd’s reaction.

What exactly was being signaled remains contested.
The leader has since said she may have been signaling her personal assistant, perhaps to bring a handbag. Without a doubt, the hand was involved.

Further accounts from the event suggest that some attendees may not have been regular congregants. Further details have since emerged suggesting that some of the crowd may have been hired and dressed to resemble AIPCA women.

Part of the church leadership have acknowledged that some people present were visitors. That they were not members of the AIPCA church at all. At least one attendee has openly admitted she was on a short assignment, for the day.

Now ask yourself this:

For politicians to deploy jobless youth and women for a heckling gig – in a church, what exactly are such politicians made of?

Do they understand leadership?

In Kenya, leadership often exists more in theory than in practice.

But what level of confidence — or arrogance — does it take to ferry a heckling crowd into a church event attended by the Head of State, certain there will be no consequences?

For politicians to mobilise crowds for heckling — in a place of worship — raises serious questions about respect, leadership, and political culture.

Places of worship are meant to be sacred spaces. Not arenas for political theatre.
Freedom of worship, expression and movement are constitutional rights.
But so is respect for institutions, for faith, and for the public.

Religious attire is a symbol of faith and identity. Using religious symbols or attire to create the appearance of support — if that is what happened — would represent a profound ethical failure.

Let us ask the harder question.
If a leader relies on noise, spectacle and heckling to assert strength,
what happens when the noise fades?

How do they govern?
I watched some of the political leaders acknowledge cheers from sections of the crowd — smiling, some bowing left and right.

I wondered what the president made of those moments. Surely, a seasoned political operator like the president would immediately recognise crowd choreography.

Was this considered value for money? A return on investment?

And how much does it cost — financially and morally — to disrupt a church service for political gain?

Old habits may die hard. But some habits must die. Churches must remain churches.
Even in an election season. Because heckles don’t vote. Voters do.

Noise does not win hearts. Policies do.

Perhaps 2026 offers a chance to learn that lesson.

That’s my sense tonight.