The Rise of Jackson Kiplagat Mandago: Shujaa wa Maendeleo

 In the highlands of Uasin Gishu, where agriculture and ambition shape daily life, Jackson Kiplagat Mandago’s political journey has mirrored Kenya’s own evolving experiment with devolution, power, and accountability.

Born into a poor family, Mandago’s early life was defined by limitation rather than privilege. Like many Kenyans of his generation, he viewed education not as a marker of status but as a means of escape. Trained in biochemistry and later in management, he developed a technocratic mindset that would later distinguish his leadership style—structured, administrative, and unapologetically assertive.

Before elective politics, Mandago built a career in public service, including service at the Teachers Service Commission (TSC). There, colleagues say, he gained an intimate understanding of government machinery: hierarchy, procedure, and the often slow translation of policy into action. That experience shaped him into a leader more comfortable with systems than slogans, a trait that would define both his appeal and his controversies.

Mandago’s political breakthrough came in 2013, a watershed year in Kenya’s governance. The promulgation of the 2010 Constitution and the introduction of devolution created powerful new county governments led by elected governors. Seizing the moment, Mandago entered the race for Governor of Uasin Gishu County and won, becoming the county’s first governor.

His victory was symbolic of a broader shift from centralized power in Nairobi to local decision-making. But it also placed on him the immense task of building county institutions from the ground up. His early years in office were marked by visible infrastructure expansion—roads, health facilities, and administrative systems. Supporters hailed him as a builder and branded him Shujaa wa Maendeleo (Hero of Development).

Mandago’s leadership style was firm and decisive, earning him loyalty among supporters and suspicion among critics. Some political rivals, including outspoken MPs, portrayed him as a strongman with national ambitions. Few, however, doubted his grasp of power or his ability to command attention. Even today, his public statements often spark immediate and wide-ranging reactions.

In 2017, Mandago secured re-election, becoming one of the few governors in the country to win a second term. With experience came greater influence—and heightened scrutiny. His administration faced criticism over governance choices, most notably the overseas education scholarship programme that sent students to Finland. Initially framed as an opportunity for bright but underprivileged students, the programme later ignited national debate over transparency, cost, and accountability.

When his gubernatorial tenure ended in 2022, some expected Mandago’s political influence to wane. Instead, he shifted arenas, contesting and winning the Uasin Gishu Senate seat. The move marked a transition from executive authority to legislative oversight—from implementing policy to interrogating it.

In the Senate, Mandago has positioned himself as a defender of devolution and an advocate for stronger institutional systems, particularly in the health sector. Observers describe this phase as a subtle reinvention: less the dominant county boss, more the institutional statesman.

Mandago’s career, however, remains far from a closed chapter. His story is one of power gained early, tested publicly, and reshaped over time. Like many leaders shaped by Kenya’s democratic transitions, he stands at the intersection of achievement and accountability.

In a political environment where reputations are constantly contested and redemption is often possible, Mandago’s relevance endures. Kenyan history offers numerous examples of leaders written off, only to re-emerge stronger.

Whether Jackson Kiplagat Mandago will ultimately be remembered as a regional kingpin, a reformist senator, or a cautionary tale of devolution will depend less on his past titles than on the choices he makes ahead.

For in Kenyan politics, as in life, legacy is not determined by how high one rises—but by how one responds when the ground begins to shift beneath their feet.