How Mwengi Mutuse landed in Meme Lord’s bucket

He is a lawmaker who has fairly had a low profile.

But Kibwezi West MP, Eckomas Mwengi Mutuse, who initiated the impeachment motion against Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua, on Wednesday struggled to provide clear evidence and explanations for many of the allegations during the cross-examination by the DP’s counsels.

What had begun as an ordinary cross-examination, morphed into a masterclass in dry wit and brutal timing. It was the kind of performance one doesn’t rehearse but delivers instinctively. 

On Wednesday night, before the nation, the Senate, and the DP’s counsels, Mr Mutuse appeared to falter in his various responses.

And now, his moment of an apparent misstep —captured, looped, memed, and immortalised on the digital stage— will live on longer than any government report he ever filed.

Yet, he is no stranger to government offices.

Between 2004 and 2007, he served as a Communications Officer in the Cabinet Office, under the Office of the Government Spokesperson.

From 2013 to 2022, he held the position of Chief of Staff in the County Government of Machakos.

Mutuse is not your typical viral hero fumbling through scandal. This is a man who has excelled in budget-making, infrastructure development, water policy, and roads. He speaks both the language of bureaucracy and the vernacular of sarcasm.

The is the kind of man who can manage a press briefing at 10am if he indeed was at his constituency to hand over the Makindu Esp Market to a contractor and defend his motion by 2pm until late at night.

(A post on Mutuse’s X account indicates that he had a handover programme at 10am in his constituency)

"Who was speaking in that video?" DP’s counsel Tom Macharia asked as he played a clip of President William Ruto addressing a crowd in Murang’a, referring to locals as "major shareholders" in his administration.

Mutuse’s voice, once steady, faltered slightly. "The President of the Republic of Kenya, William Ruto."

Macharia did not flinch.

"When the DP assists the President in discussing shareholders, how does that become an impeachable offence?" Mutuse shifted but held his ground.

"The language is not constitutionally assigned to the President or the DP," he insisted.

But Macharia wasn’t done. He pressed further. "Does the deputy president appoint officials?"

Mutuse hesitated, then admitted, "Not expressly." Each concession felt like a pin dropping on Mutuse’s carefully constructed argument.

The questioning pivoted to the political nature of "shareholding" within the Kenya Kwanza coalition.

Macharia highlighted the coalition’s agreement, which guarantees 30 percent of government positions to the Amani National Congress (ANC) and Ford Kenya.

"When you hold a 30 per cent share, what are you called?" Macharia asked.

Mutuse’s response was curt. "A shareholder."

Macharia leaned in. "And who signed this agreement?"

Mutuse listed the names —President William Ruto, Prime Cabinet Secretary Musalia Mudavadi, Speaker Moses Wetang’ula —each signature casting doubt on his impeachment motion.

"Do any of these individuals bear the blame you’re placing on the DP?" Macharia asked, his voice steady, his intent clear.

Mutuse’s brief silence spoke louder than any answer. By the time the lawmaker was walking out of the Senate, he was all over in memes and excerpts.

The internet had a field day with Mutuse’s Senate performance, with many drawing amusing parallels between his academic history and the sharp cross-examination by Elisha Ongoya, one of the DP’s advocates.

Ongoya, a seasoned academic and co-author of The Moot Court Formula (published in 2009), put Mutuse through a grilling that inspired some top-tier online commentary.

Laban Mbunya didn’t hold back: “15 years younger than he is today, and Elisha Ongoya has never disappointed. Mwengi Mutuse probably read this book on campus...”

Memes featuring Mutuse have taken on a life of their own, with some zeroing in on hilariously awkward excerpts from his speech—none more iconic than his clunky line: “Did you... or did you not?” One cheeky observer quipped, “I think I’ll go with or.”

But Mutuse’s rise to internet infamy reflects our times —a world where one perfectly timed eye roll can turn a civil servant into a meme king.

It wraps you in digital laurels and discards you just as quickly. Today, Mutuse is a trending icon.

Tomorrow? The internet moves fast.

Having once shaped county policy and managed public narratives in the office of a government spokesperson, Mutuse now shapes the very algorithms driving online culture.

Mutuse’s antics in the Senate became instant internet gold. Welcome to the Mutuse Era. Blink, and you might miss it.