Widow Reveals Painful Legacy of Raila’s Longtime Bodyguard

In a heart-wrenching interview with Sunday Nation, Caren Auma, George Oduor’s widow, shared her late husband’s life and legacy as Raila Odinga’s trusted bodyguard for over three decades.

Auma’s heartfelt reflections paint a picture of a devoted family man, a loyal protector, and a steadfast patriot who died too soon, leaving behind a legacy of love, sacrifice, and unspoken secrets.

George Oduor, who passed away on April 2, was more than just a bodyguard to Raila Odinga.

For 31 years, Oduor stood as a silent sentinel by Odinga’s side, navigating the turbulent waters of Kenyan politics with unwavering loyalty.

Oduor during the burial ceremony of the late Jaramogi Oginga Odinga.

Auma, still grappling with the pain of her loss, described her husband as a man whose commitment to duty often placed him in the crosshairs of danger.

“George lived a life where he knew a man could be snatched away without warning or explanation,” she said.

The couple’s story began in the early 1990s, a time when Kenya was embroiled in political upheaval. Auma, then a young woman, met Oduor at a political rally in Kisumu, where she was struck by his quiet strength and commanding presence.

“He was the opposition leader Raila Odinga’s trusted guard, and I was just a girl in the crowd,” she recalled.

Their love blossomed amidst the chaos of political rallies and protests, with Oduor often shielding Auma from the violence that erupted during those turbulent times.

“He would tell me, ‘Stay with my sister in Lang’ata,’ to keep me safe,” she shared, highlighting the protective instinct that defined Oduor both in his professional and personal life.

Auma’s account reveals the toll that Oduor’s role took on their family.

As Raila Odinga’s bodyguard, Oduor was frequently away, stationed at various locations to ensure his boss’s safety during politically charged moments.

Auma spoke of the sleepless nights, the constant worry, and the fear that one day her husband might not return home.

“When I met George during Odinga’s campaigns, I didn’t realize what I was signing up for,” she admitted. “After every rally, I’d wait for him to call and confirm he was safe. Sometimes he wouldn’t call, and I’d spend the night in tears.”

“The first time I truly understood the danger of his position was August 1998. The political tension between President Moi and Raila erupted, and suddenly George was arrested inside Parliament itself. For a week, he simply vanished. Those seven days were the longest of my life.”

“The outcome? One year and three months in Kamiti Maximum Prison. His siblings were furious when he walked out of prison and straight back to Raila’s side.”

“We’ve warned you about following Raila,” his siblings told him. “If you’re arrested again, we won’t come looking for you.” They couldn’t understand why politics was worth such sacrifice when it brought him nothing but trouble.”

Despite the challenges, Auma and Oduor built a life together, raising three children in Kangemi, Nairobi.

Their home, though modest, was filled with love and laughter, even as Oduor’s demanding job kept him away for long stretches.

The late George Oduor’s home in Ndori, Bondo

Auma described how Oduor would return home exhausted but always made time to connect with his family.

“He’d come home, and even if he was tired, he’d play with the kids. He didn’t want them to feel his absence,” she said. Yet, the strain of his work was undeniable.

Auma revealed that Oduor often carried the weight of “party secrets,” knowledge he kept locked away to protect both his family and Odinga. “He’d say, ‘What I know, I know for a reason,’” she recalled, hinting at the burdens her husband bore in silence.

Oduor’s death has left Auma and her children shattered.

The loss has been particularly hard on their three children, who have struggled to come to terms with their father’s absence.

“The kids still ask about him,” Auma said, her eyes welling up. “They don’t understand why he’s gone, and I don’t have the answers to give them.”

Beyond his role as a bodyguard, Auma remembers Oduor as a man of deep faith and principles.

“He believed in Odinga’s vision for Kenya, but he also believed in doing what was right,” she said. Oduor’s dedication to Odinga was not just a job—it was a calling. He stood by Odinga through some of the most tumultuous moments in Kenya’s political history, including the 1998 protests, the 2007 post-election violence, and Odinga’s numerous presidential campaigns.

“George was there through it all,” Auma said. “He saw things that would break most people, but he never wavered.”

Caren and George.

Auma’s tribute to her husband also serves as a reflection on the sacrifices made by those who work behind the scenes in Kenya’s political arena. “Everyone sees the star, but no one sees the people who make it possible,” she said, referring to Oduor’s often-overlooked role.

She expressed gratitude to Odinga for his support after Oduor’s death, noting that he had offered to help with funeral costs and even visited the family to pay his respects.

“Raila told me, ‘George was more than a bodyguard to me—he was my brother,’” Auma shared.

As Auma continues to navigate life without her husband, she holds onto the memories of their time together—the stolen moments of joy amidst the chaos, the quiet evenings in their Kangemi home, and the unspoken love that bound them.

“George gave everything for his country, for Raila, and for us,” she said. “I just wish he’d had more time.”

For many Kenyans, George Oduor may remain a footnote in the larger narrative of Raila Odinga’s political journey.

But for Caren Auma and her children, he was a hero—a man whose courage, loyalty, and love left an indelible mark on their lives.

As Auma put it, “There’s something most Kenyans don’t understand about my George. He was the kind of man who gave his all, even when it cost him everything.”