Carbon Monoxide and Conspiracy: The Death of George Saitot

George Musengi Saitoti was not just a name… he was a paradox… a man who stood at the heart of Kenya’s power circles yet always slightly outside them. Born on August 3, 1945, in Nairobi… he rose from the quiet of academia into the brutal theater of Kenyan politics. He earned a PhD in algebraic topology from the University of Warwick… becoming a world-class mathematician… then morphed into one of Kenya’s longest-serving Vice Presidents under President Daniel arap Moi (1988…2002), later holding powerful dockets like Finance, Education, and Internal Security under President Mwai Kibaki. But behind that stoic face was a man divided… George Kinuthia Kiarie by birth, Kikuyu by blood… but culturally Maasai by choice, after undergoing initiation and taking on the name Saitoti. His dual heritage allowed him to dream of a united Kenya… but it also left him without a tribal home in a deeply polarized nation.

As the Kibaki era neared its end, Saitoti found himself in a delicate, dangerous position. He was no longer just a former VP or minister. He had evolved into a quiet kingmaker, a man who held dossiers, secrets… and ambition. Rumors swirled through Nairobi’s corridors of power that Saitoti was preparing a bid for the presidency in the upcoming 2013 general election. But unlike the populists or tribal chieftains, Saitoti’s campaign was built on a calculated blend of reformist credentials and institutional knowledge. His Party of National Unity (PNU) had formed pre-election pacts with Kalonzo Musyoka and Deputy Prime Minister Uhuru Kenyatta. His campaign secretariat was up and running. Funding was flowing. He had met with foreign dignitaries and diplomats who saw in him a technocrat they could trust. But that was also his curse.

Saitoti had no tribal army. His Kikuyu heritage didn’t quite embrace him… and his Maasai assimilation didn’t grant him the numerical advantage needed in Kenya’s ethnic politics. He was the compromise candidate… cleaner than most, more educated than many… and in the way of everyone.

But even more dangerous than his presidential ambitions… was the war he was waging behind the scenes. As Minister for Internal Security, Saitoti was weeks away from tabling a sensitive report in Parliament. The target? Kenya’s burgeoning narcotics trade… a hydra with tentacles in high places. He had obtained intelligence reports, DEA files, and internal National Security Council briefings that pointed fingers at powerful individuals… including politically connected figures, prominent businessmen, and even whispers of state complicity.

The files, it was said, named drug barons operating with impunity… some allegedly shielded by law enforcement and senior politicians. Saitoti, meticulous and paranoid as always, had kept the files close. But those in the know could feel the pressure rising. Media houses had started probing the connections between politics and drugs. Foreign intelligence agencies, including the U.S., had taken interest. Whispers began to float… Saitoti was either about to become a hero… or a problem that needed solving.

His death came suddenly… but it didn’t arrive in a vacuum.

On the morning of June 10, 2012, Saitoti and his Assistant Minister Orwa Ojode boarded a Eurocopter AS-350 police chopper at Wilson Airport, Nairobi. They were headed to a church fundraiser in Ndhiwa, Homa Bay County. Also aboard were two pilots… Captain Luke Oyugi and Nancy Gituanja… and two bodyguards, Inspector Joshua Tonkei and Sergeant Thomas Murimi. Ten minutes after takeoff, the helicopter plummeted into Kibiko Forest in Ngong Hills… inside Saitoti’s own Kajiado North constituency. All six perished in a fiery wreck. Prime Minister Raila Odinga stood over the charred debris hours later… calling it a tragedy. But behind closed doors, the question on everyone’s lips was not what had happened… but who might have wanted this man gone?

That Sunday morning was grey and cold. The police chopper lifted with six souls aboard. Ten minutes later, it came down in flames. The crash took place in open daylight… close to the capital… and yet what followed was a trail of confusion, contradictions, and silence.

The Commission of Inquiry led by Justice Kalpana Rawal blamed the weather… the pilots… a few technical oversights. The helicopter, they said, was overloaded by 11 kilograms. The pilots were inexperienced with fog. The battery may not have been maintained properly. There were no signs of explosion… only fire and chaos. But as experts dug deeper… a darker narrative began to surface.

Dr. Dorothy Njeru and Dr. Amritpal Kalsi, who conducted the autopsies, reported something chilling… “cherry pink” discoloration on the bodies… a textbook sign of carbon monoxide poisoning. Saitoti’s body showed it on his right thigh. Tonkei had marks on his forehead and knee. Captain Oyugi had 68.6% saturation of CO in his blood… far above lethal levels. But co-pilot Gituanja tested negative. How could one pilot be drowning in poison… while the other was not?

Dr. Njeru told the commission this was no ordinary crash. The poison may have been introduced before impact. The coloration didn’t match a typical post-crash fire. Her testimony was sharp, firm… and then ignored. Dr. Johansen Oduor’s final postmortem made no mention of poisoning. It simply listed “multiple injuries and burns.” Njeru disowned the report. She said toxicology was compromised… blood drawn from the wrong places. Retired Deputy Government Chemist Wandera Bideru echoed her fears. The truth, it seemed, had been smothered beneath bureaucracy.

And then came the whispers of manipulation.

Why had the original pilots been replaced at the last minute? Investigative journalists Mohammed Ali and John-Allan Namu revealed that Oyugi and Gituanja were not on the original flight manifest… they were notified the night before… while at a club near Wilson Airport. It seemed like a rushed, quiet replacement.

Why was the crash site unsecured for 14 days? No cordon… no proper forensic sweep. Even more baffling… Saitoti’s mobile phone was recovered intact… but found in the hands of a police corporal, Evans Kiprotich, who had been using it for nearly a month.

Why did the foreign Eurocopter specialists hired by Saitoti’s family face obstruction from state authorities? Why did a South African doctor involved in the postmortem refuse to comment… citing “foreign government sensitivities”?

These weren’t wild allegations. These were real gaps… deliberate actions… that screamed cover-up.

Saitoti had survived a poisoning once before. In 1990, just days before the brutal murder of Foreign Minister Robert Ouko, Saitoti collapsed during dinner at an Indian restaurant in Muthaiga. He gasped… sweated… collapsed. Rushed to ICU. It was cyanide poisoning, doctors suspected. His skin later peeled off. Moi himself hinted that the same shadowy forces who eliminated Ouko had targeted Saitoti. After that incident, Saitoti changed. He kept tasters. He avoided eating at public events. He feared crowds. His trusted guards… Tonkei, Tanchu, and Surtan… monitored everything. In his final days, during a workshop in Mombasa, he faked his hotel check-in… staying instead at a different hotel while leaving a bodyguard behind as decoy. He was being hunted, he believed. Maybe… he was right.

Saitoti’s past wasn’t free of controversy. As Finance Minister, he’d approved the Goldenberg export compensation scheme… the largest scandal in Kenya’s history. Billions vanished. Kamlesh Pattni made his name. Moi’s inner circle allegedly benefited. Saitoti was cleared by courts in 2006… but the stigma lingered. Some believe that scandal earned him enemies… powerful ones… who watched… and waited.

To many, Saitoti was a riddle wrapped in a mystery. He rarely spoke Kikuyu or Maasai in public. He kept his personal life locked. He walked alone… literally and figuratively. He was praised by some… like Moody Awori… for his intelligence and integrity. Others whispered about his silence… his complicity in the Nyayo era’s darker dealings. But no one denied… he was a serious man… who knew too much… and spoke too little.

So what really killed George Saitoti?

Was it fog and fate… or was it fear, power… and a poisoned state?

Was carbon monoxide planted in the helicopter cabin?

Why were the pilots changed?

Why was the crash scene left unsecured?

Why did the government ignore the poisoning evidence?

Was it about drugs… or politics… or revenge?

Saitoti’s death removed from Kenya a man who could have changed its trajectory. A disciplined reformer. A brilliant mind. An anti-drug crusader. A presidential hopeful. He walked too close to the fire… and then was consumed by it.

And this… was a VCDigest story that you may have heard…

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