– An unidentified man stepped on Deputy President William Ruto’s shoes during a public function in Kisii county.
– He had gone to greet the DP at the dais when a photo of him stepping on Ruto’s foot was captured
A picture taken at Gusii Stadium in Kisii County of a man seemingly stepping on Deputy President William Ruto’s shoe has caused quite a stir on social media.He walked up the dais to greet the DP
Dressed in his gumboots, the man of short stature had approached the DP at the dais when he stepped on his shoe.
A section of Kenyans criticised him for lacking respect for the Deputy President.
Ruto was at the stadium during the International Day of Older Persons celebrations where he encouraged young people to take care of their aging parents.
While in Kisii county, the DP also asked the residents to stop violence against old people suspected of witchcraft.
-tuko.co.ke
Poem About The Man Who Stepped on William Ruto’s Shoe
It happened on a bright Nairobi morning—the kind where the sun seems determined to prove it can outshine every campaign poster on every street. Crowds had gathered, journalists were jockeying for the best angle, and security officers wore expressions carved from granite. The President himself, Dr. William Ruto, had come to officiate the opening of a new youth centre.
Enter Musa, a man of modest means and even more modest spatial awareness.
Musa had come with only one intention: to catch a glimpse of the President and maybe—just maybe—shake his hand. He had rehearsed what he’d say: something respectful, maybe inspiring, but not too long. Something presidential-handshake appropriate.
But fate, as it often does, had other plans.
As the President stepped forward to greet the crowd, Musa felt himself nudged forward by the excited surge of people. One push, one misstep, one unfortunate angle—and suddenly, with the certainty of gravity itself, Musa’s dusty shoe landed squarely on the polished leather of President Ruto’s right loafer.
The world paused.
Security froze. Cameras zoomed with predatory speed. Somewhere, a journalist whispered, “Ah! Headline!”
Musa’s soul attempted to leave his body through sheer embarrassment.
“I—I’m so sorry, Your Excellency!” he sputtered, lifting his foot as though it had become radioactive.
President Ruto looked down at the shoe, then up at Musa. A smile began to form—slowly at first, then fully, the kind that suggested either disarming grace or an extremely well-practiced public-relations instinct.
“It’s alright,” Ruto said, dusting off the scuff with the casualness of a man used to more serious threats than footwear. “At least now the shoe has met the people.”
The crowd burst into laughter. Security relaxed, though only by a millimeter. Musa exhaled a lifetime’s worth of anxiety in a single breath.
And in that moment, unexpectedly, Musa’s dream came true: President Ruto extended his hand. They shook—Musa trembling like a leaf in a thunderstorm.
“Next time,” Ruto said jokingly, “just tap my shoulder.”
From that day on, Musa became known in his estate as the man who stepped on the President’s shoe and lived. Some even claimed his life changed—business picked up, neighbors treated him differently, and children asked him to tell the story again and again.
And every time he reached the part where Ruto smiled, Musa would grin and say:
“That, my friends, is when I learned two things:
One—always watch where you step.
And two—even presidents can laugh at scuffed shoes.”
