The controversy surrounding Echoes of War, a play written by former Kakamega Senator Cleophas Malala- who is also an ousted former Secretary General of the ruling UDA political party headed by President William Ruto- and performed by Butere Girls High School, has stirred deep national debate. What began as a school drama production meant to showcase talent and stimulate critical thinking has instead become a flashpoint in discussions around censorship, politics and the limits of student expression in Kenya’s education system.
The play, a hard-hitting satirical piece inspired by the June 2024 Gen Z protests, unflinchingly addresses issues such as corruption, governance and economic hardship. Its powerful message resonated strongly with audiences and judges at the regional drama festivals. However, as the play advanced, it was suddenly disqualified without explanation. This move sparked public outrage, with critics arguing that the decision was more about suppressing uncomfortable truths by the government than any procedural flaw.
Behind the play stands Cleophas Malala, a controversial political figure whose dramatic work has often crossed into politically sensitive territory. His previous production, Shackles of Doom, was also banned in 2013 for its unflinching critique of inequality and tribalism. With Echoes of War, Malala returned to the school drama stage, but this time as a polarizing public figure closely tied to the political elite. Having recently been unceremoniously removed as Secretary General of the ruling UDA party amid internal turmoil, many saw his involvement in the Butere Girls’ play as a calculated attempt to remain in the public eye or settle political scores.
The situation intensified when the High Court reversed the Ministry of Education’s decision and ordered the reinstatement of the play at the national festival in Nakuru. However, despite this legal win, the students encountered what appeared to be systemic efforts to silence them once again. Denied basic performance infrastructure and reportedly kept away from the full audience they deserved, the young performers were visibly distraught and eventually opted not to stage the play, choosing instead to sing the national anthem and exit in tears- a powerful and symbolic act that resonated far beyond the festival hall.
The moment it was revealed that the play was written by Mr Malala, politics took center stage, overshadowing the students, their art, their efforts and the power of the stage set up at drama festivals. This, then, raises the timely and uncomfortable question: should politics be allowed to meet the school stage?
On one hand, schools are meant to nurture free thought. Students are encouraged to be critical thinkers, to engage with their society and ask hard questions. Drama is one of the most powerful tools for that. It lets young people challenge injustices, imagine solutions and express themselves beyond textbooks. Plays like Echoes of War, which explore corruption, leadership and civil unrest, give students the chance to reflect the world they live in. And let’s be honest, the world they live in is political. So why sanitize their stages?
But then comes the counterweight: when the politics in school drama are not from the students, but from the adults. When external forces, in this case, a prominent political figure, pen the scripts, are we still encouraging authentic expression, or are we grooming students into pawns in someone else’s narrative? Malala is not just a playwright; he’s a politician with deep ties to the ruling party and a trail of controversy. His involvement raised suspicions that the play, while artistically sound, may have been a veiled attack on his political enemies or a bid to stay relevant in a shifting political landscape. That is where the line starts to blur.
Kenya’s school festivals have always been a breeding ground for bold, provocative ideas. In the past, we’ve seen plays challenge FGM, tribalism, sexual abuse and inequality; often leading to pushback from education authorities. But there is a difference between students exploring these themes from their lived realities and scripts being handed to them from people with political agendas. It’s the difference between empowerment and exploitation.
The drama that followed Echoes of War– the disqualification, the court case, the students being allegedly denied a chance to perform- wasn’t just about content. It was about control. It exposed the discomfort our systems have when youth are given the stage to say what adults don’t want to hear, especially when those ideas come wrapped in the fingerprints of politics. The tragedy is that the students were caught in the middle of a storm they didn’t start.
So, should politics meet the school stage? Perhaps the better question is how it should. Let students write their own truths. Let their teachers guide them. Let their plays reflect their reality, not someone else’s strategy. Adults, even those with creative gifts, should support, not hijack, that space. In the end, Echoes of War showed us that students have voices worth listening to. But if we’re not careful, politics won’t just meet the school stage, it’ll take it over. And the cost will be the very thing school drama is meant to protect: the freedom to imagine and to question.
