Mugithi musician and police officer Samidoh has stirred online discussion with his subtle response to President William Ruto’s recent controversial directive to law enforcement. While the president ordered police to shoot looters and vandals in the legs to incapacitate them during demonstrations, Samidoh’s reaction was notably understated—but it resonated widely with his followers.
While tensions soared in Kenya over the president’s remarks, Samidoh, currently overseas, shared a light-hearted video from Mexico. Dressed casually in a white sleeveless shirt, sweatpants, and sandals, he appeared carefree, enjoying the tourist site of Chichén-Itzá in Yucatán. As he walked in the drizzle singing along to a Mugithi tune, the contrast between his relaxed setting and the turmoil back home was striking.
His post read, “Buenos días from Cancun, Mexico,” prompting floods of comments from Kenyans keeping him updated about the unfolding situation. One TikToker humorously wrote, “We will be shot in the legs henceforth,” to which Samidoh simply replied: “Weh.” That one-word response struck a chord, with many interpreting it as a subtle critique or a statement of disbelief, capturing the mood of many Kenyans with surprising accuracy.
Others in the comments joined in with witty reactions. One remarked that Mexico looked empty, while another joked that everyone in Kenya had turned Kikuyu in his absence. Another said the ruling party had allegedly swapped its symbol from a wheelbarrow to a wheelchair—an apparent jab at the shoot-to-disable policy. Someone else pointed out that the usual tribal divisions appeared to have faded, replaced by a unified sense of outrage and identity.
This isn’t the first time Samidoh has made a quiet political statement. Just before a planned protest in late June, he shared a photo of himself wearing an American-flag-themed shirt and cowboy hat while holding a Kenyan flag. Notably, the flag appeared to be upside down—a widely recognized symbol of distress. Although he made no explicit comment, the imagery sparked widespread speculation and discussion online, with many interpreting it as a gesture of solidarity with protestors.
The protests, which were meant to honour victims of the previous year’s anti-Finance Bill demonstrations, had been gaining momentum. Some demonstrators had announced plans to march to State House, a bold move reflecting the growing public frustration. While Samidoh holds a role in the police service, his posts suggested a more nuanced position, possibly aligning more with the people’s sentiments than the government’s.
Meanwhile, back in Kenya, the president’s shoot-to-disable directive continued to spark debate. He emphasized that peace must be maintained and that property destruction would be met with firm action. At the same time, he clarified that excessive force on innocent civilians would not be tolerated, and anyone attacking police stations or officers would be considered a threat to the state.
Despite these assurances, the directive raised alarm among human rights advocates and citizens alike. The idea of using potentially disabling force on civilians, even those involved in unrest, was seen by many as dangerous and excessive.
Amid all this, Samidoh’s restrained yet poignant response from thousands of miles away became a mirror for the public’s unease. His music, humour, and online presence offered both escapism and subtle commentary, proving that even silence—or a simple “Weh”—can be powerful in moments of national tension.
