President William Ruto’s admission that his communication team may not align with his desires rings true. The Albert Ojwang tragedy offered an opportunity for emotional public engagement during collective national grief, an opportunity the president missed.

The president’s initial statement on the Ojwang tragedy appeared cold and nonchalant, arriving late while the executive largely left matters to police handling. But the police have been the focus of public anger, and the Independent Policing Oversight Authority has hardly inspired confidence.

A week later, the president tried again, reaching out directly to the Ojwang family. But it could have been done better. He lost another opportunity to demonstrate his role as the nation’s mourner-in-chief.

By calling the elder Ojwang, offering condolences by phone, and sending two million shillings, the president risked appearing transactional, a leader who assumes money solves everything.

This is not to say the president should not support the family. At such difficult moments, families need genuine support, and funerals are expensive in Western Kenya. However, the president has a larger audience. As the nation’s father, he is expected to show emotion and provide comfort for the grieving public.

Consider President Barack Obama attending a Charleston cleric’s funeral. The American mourner-in-chief veered off his speech and sang “Amazing Grace” off-key. Nobody cared. Who wouldn’t shed tears as the president carried the nation’s heartbeat through his voice across the land? The congregation joined him tearfully.

Obama had been accused of being too intellectual and emotionally aloof, with opponents using his soaring speeches against him.

President Ruto comes across as a calculating politician. His hand often clenches into a fist, as if hungry and ready to go on the defence. He can break into hearty laughter – but it comes across as a transactional, designed to elicit a price.

One would not expect the president to return to Kokoth village in Homa Bay, having left the area just two weeks earlier. But how could his team miss the opportunity to fly the Ojwang family to Nairobi, gather them in State House’s intimate corner, and let the president embrace the mother and widow? He could sit with the father like a lost cousin, listening to his story.

The father would share his son’s story, the president would show emotion, as he once did in church, and promise to walk with the family through difficult times.

He would not need to announce the two-million-shilling support; the visuals alone would be worth two million and more. A grateful nation would sleep confident in their safety, knowing the president shares their grief. The president would be humanised.

The ability to appear human rather than transactional is probably a major weakness in the president’s communication arsenal.

President Ruto’s calculated politician image – fist clenched, transactional smile – does not serve him well during national tragedies requiring empathy. His team has a duty to make him human and relatable. That would make the country feel much better.

The writer is the Dean of Daystar University’s School of Communication.