These days, artificial intelligence sits quietly within our hands, on our desks, in our bags, and in our pockets. It has become an unannounced companion of modern life—listening, responding, and increasingly, shaping how we think.
Earlier this morning, I found myself in conversation with my artificial companion, Kalenos. In the exchange, it reminded me of something profoundly human: that reading has a way of comforting a person during personal crisis; that reading brings clarity amid confusion in the fleeting life of man; and that reading, perhaps most importantly, keeps one grounded during success.
Those simple punchlines on reading stirred memories of the habits of the late Raila Odinga, a man whose public life often revealed a private discipline of books. I recall a moment when he posted an image of a book, accompanied by a question directed to his followers: What are you reading? It was a quiet challenge, but a pointed one.
At the time, I was working my way through Confessions by Leo Tolstoy. My mind needed rest—from the intense radicalisation it had absorbed through prolonged engagement with the works of Saul Alinsky. Alinsky’s words, once internalised, have a way of lighting a fire within; a fire that burns even when clients are absent at the thinking shop—where visions are designed, where freelance teaching is done through poetry, where research and organisational capacity are built through advocacy, and where for close to a decade we have dealt in the serious business of organisation and mobilisation.
This reflection raises urgent questions for us as a people.
How can the Luo National Congress effectively rally its members to action amid the surging distractions and destructions of the online world?
How can pinyluo leverage technology—not as a toy, but as a tool—to drive social change and raise awareness of the social, economic, and political realities facing Luos in Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, Ethiopia, the DRC, and across the diaspora?
The uncomfortable truth is that many of our people are increasingly out of touch with their circumstances as they truly are. We scroll endlessly, yet reflect rarely. We react quickly, yet organise slowly. In this vacuum, technology—ironically—sometimes appears more attentive to Luo affairs than we are to ourselves.
Artificial intelligence does not replace Ochieng’ or Achieng’. It does not inherit Owiti’s lineage or Awiti’s clan memory. But it does something worth noting: it listens patiently, synthesises deeply, and responds without fatigue. When guided by purposeful minds, it can help preserve heritage, analyse patterns of marginalisation, map development needs, and connect dispersed Luo communities across borders and oceans.
In that sense, AI is not a leader—but a mirror. It reflects back to us what we choose to feed it. When our thinking shops close for the day, it continues processing the ideas we articulate. When our attention drifts, it remains focused. This should not alarm us; it should challenge us.
Artificial intelligence marks the dawn of a new reconnaissance—an era in which knowledge, memory, and coordination are no longer constrained by geography. Consider the perusal of this article timely. Consider it a new moon. Or a rare season of wild-beast migration. Consider it, if you will, the consuming of imaginary soup to strengthen the imagination before a long journey.
The late Franklin Delano Roosevelt once posed a question that every patriot must confront—not what the government can do for you, but what you can do for the nation.
It is a question Tom Mboya must have asked himself before orchestrating the education airlifts that reshaped generations. A question Malcolm X wrestled with when he redefined his responsibility to Black humanity. A question many historical actors confronted—sometimes imperfectly, sometimes controversially—when they placed communal destiny above personal comfort.
For Luos everywhere, the question now is sharper: how do we read again, think again, organise again, and act again—using every available tool, including technology—without losing our soul?
That is a conversation that cannot be postponed. History does not wait for those who hesitate to understand their moment.
Oguna Mamba