On the 7th of July each year, a date etched deeply into the political conscience of Kenya, a particular restlessness grips the nation. It is not just a date, it is a memory, a legacy, a rallying cry. This year, 2025, Kenyans are once again preparing to take to the streets to mark Saba Saba, Swahili for “Seven Seven.” But as the calls for mass demonstrations surge across social media platforms, particularly X (formerly Twitter), Facebook, and TikTok, the resonance of this day is taking on a broader, more urgent tone.
The demonstrators this year are not just invoking history; they are demanding the future.
The mood across the country is sombre and defiant. From Nairobi’s Mathare to Kisumu’s Kondele, from Mombasa to Nakuru, young people, civil society groups, and pro-democracy activists are mobilising under a banner that is unmistakably familiar: a cry against state excesses, impunity, corruption, and repression.
Saba Saba: A Historical Reckoning
To understand the gravity of this moment, one must revisit July 7, 1990, the original Saba Saba. This was the day when opposition leaders Kenneth Matiba, Charles Rubia, and Raila Odinga, among other brave reformists, defied the autocratic regime of President Daniel arap Moi and called for a pro-democracy rally at Kamukunji Grounds in Nairobi. The rally was violently dispersed by police, but it sparked a national movement that would become foundational to Kenya’s eventual shift from a one-party state to a multi-party democracy.
The 1990 protest came after years of growing dissatisfaction with Moi’s one-party rule under the Kenya African National Union (KANU), which had become synonymous with political repression, economic mismanagement, and cronyism. Saba Saba was the boiling point of years of social and political frustration. The violent crackdown that followed the rally left scores dead and many arrested, but the government was eventually forced to relent. In 1991, Section 2A of the Constitution was repealed, effectively ending one-party rule and ushering in the multi-party era.
That single act of defiance catalysed a long and winding journey toward democratisation. Elections in 1992, 1997, and the seminal 2002 general elections all carried the imprint of the Saba Saba movement. The liberalisation of civic space, expansion of press freedoms, and eventual promulgation of the 2010 Constitution can all trace their ideological ancestry back to that moment.
And yet, 35 years on, the very ideals that Saba Saba sought to institutionalise – accountability, justice, dignity, and public participation- are under renewed threat.
Why Saba Saba Still Matters
The 2025 protests are not mere commemorations. They are an indictment of a democratic process that many Kenyans feel has been hijacked by elite interests. The rise in youth mobilisation under hashtags like #SabaSabaMarch, #SabaSabaRevolutionDay, and #77SiriNiNumbers signals a rebirth of Kenya’s protest culture, fueled by a tech-savvy, politically aware generation that is both angry and hopeful.
This year’s demonstrations are not being led by political opposition per se, but by a decentralised, grassroots movement of youth and civil society. This distinguishes it from the past, where political heavyweights often co-opted citizen grievances for partisan purposes. Today’s demonstrators are more ideologically agnostic and issue-driven. They are protesting a myriad of challenges:
- The rising cost of living is exacerbated by an inflationary economy and increased taxation.
- Institutionalised corruption, particularly the perception that the state is complicit or indifferent to it;
- Rampant police brutality, especially the shocking cases linked to the recent anti-Finance Bill protests;
- A growing democratic deficit, with concerns over shrinking civic space, media intimidation, and opaque governance.
As these concerns converge, Saba Saba becomes a powerful symbol not only of past struggle but of current resistance. The youth have learned from history, and they are now repurposing it for a new kind of struggle, one rooted in digital activism, decentralised organisation, and intersectional justice.
Police Brutality: A Repressive Force Resurfaces
One of the defining themes around the upcoming protests is the role of police in stifling dissent. Over the past month, graphic images and videos of police officers firing live bullets at unarmed demonstrators have flooded the Kenyan digital space. The death of several youth protesters, many of them in their early 20s, has sent shockwaves across the country.
Among the most high-profile incidents was the alleged abduction and death of university student protestors whose bodies were later found dumped miles away from their last known location. Civil society groups, including Amnesty International Kenya, the Kenya Human Rights Commission (KHRC), and the Law Society of Kenya (LSK), have condemned these actions and called for independent investigations. But accountability remains elusive.
While the Kenyan Constitution guarantees the right to assemble, demonstrate, and picket under Article 37, these rights are increasingly being undermined by excessive force, preemptive arrests, and deployment of heavily armed riot police. The chilling effect is obvious: fear, self-censorship, and withdrawal from public engagement. Yet, paradoxically, this brutality is only hardening public resolve.
The resurgence of state repression is a stark reminder that the reformist gains of the early 2000s were not irreversible. For many young Kenyans, this moment feels eerily reminiscent of the Moi era they read about in history books. The slogans may have changed, but the state’s tactics remain painfully familiar.
State Complicity in Corruption Has Fueled Plans For Saba Saba Demos
No conversation around the current political climate is complete without a candid look at corruption. The demonstrators marching on Saba Saba are not only protesting police violence but also what they see as a morally bankrupt political class insulated from the struggles of ordinary Kenyans.
Reports of procurement scandals, ghost projects, inflated tenders, and illicit enrichment are now commonplace. From county governments to national ministries, corruption appears endemic. In particular, the Finance Bill 2025, which introduced a raft of new taxes on basic commodities and digital transactions, has become a lightning rod for public anger. While the government has defended the bill as necessary for revenue generation, many citizens believe the burden is being unfairly passed on to the poor while the rich evade taxes and loot public funds with impunity.
Kenya’s Auditor General has repeatedly flagged billions in unaccounted-for expenditures. Institutions like the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission (EACC) and the Directorate of Criminal Investigations (DCI) have made arrests, but convictions remain rare. High-profile suspects walk free, often making a return to public office in subsequent elections. This culture of impunity has deeply eroded public trust in governance.
For today’s demonstrators, corruption is not just a technical problem; it is an existential threat to the nation’s future. It undermines education, healthcare, infrastructure, and job creation. It strangles meritocracy, fosters inequality, and fuels youth disenfranchisement. In this context, Saba Saba is being reimagined as a clarion call for economic justice as much as political reform.
Digital Media Is Kenya’s New Vanguard
What distinguishes the 2025 Saba Saba movement from its predecessors is the digital fluency of its architects. Protest organisers are using encrypted messaging apps, viral hashtags, and crowdfunding platforms to mobilise, coordinate, and document their actions. TikTok influencers are livestreaming protests. Designers are creating protest posters and memes that go viral within hours. Legal experts are offering real-time advice to arrested demonstrators via social media threads.
This digital revolution has democratized activism. It has given rise to a horizontal, non-hierarchical movement that defies traditional political gatekeeping. And it has enabled a transnational solidarity, with Kenyans in the diaspora joining online protests, fundraising for medical support for injured protesters, and lobbying international human rights bodies.
The state is struggling to keep pace. Attempts to intimidate or shut down dissent have only amplified it. The old playbook, arrest a few ringleaders, flood the streets with teargas, and dominate the news cycle, is proving ineffective in an era of decentralised resistance and citizen journalism.
Kenya Is at the Crossroads
As Kenyans prepare for the Saba Saba demonstrations, the stakes could not be higher. This is more than a protest; it is a national referendum on what kind of country Kenya wants to be. The choice is stark: a state that responds to crisis with violence, or one that listens, reforms, and protects the rights of its citizens.
The current administration has an opportunity, perhaps the last in its term, to engage this new generation of Kenyans not as enemies, but as stakeholders. To do that, it must move beyond platitudes and demonstrate real commitment to justice, reform, and inclusion.
The question is no longer whether Saba Saba will be remembered. It is whether the government will finally heed its message. Because while history can be a mirror, it can also be a warning.
Saba Saba is not just a date. It is a spirit. A legacy. And now, a movement reborn.
What began as a demand for multi-party democracy in 1990 has evolved into a broader call for systemic change. In 2025, Kenyans are not only resisting the erosion of civil liberties and the brutalisation of protestors, but they are also reclaiming the promise of their Constitution. They are asserting their right to dream, dissent, and demand a better future.
As the eyes of the world turn once more to Kenya on July 7, one thing is clear: the struggle for justice, accountability, and dignity is far from over. But the people are ready.
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