But politically, the gambit is far from a strategic masterstroke on the part of the Head of State or a walk in the park on the part of the opposition leader.
The rush for de-escalation is giving way to a realpolitik and egomania in which each side wants to emerge the winner.
After a week of lull in demonstrations, the country is once again barreling toward new confrontations.
The government's call for dialogue through a parliamentary process is already dead in the water after the Azimio leaders insisted on inclusive national talks outside Parliament.
"We accepted the call for dialogue but shall defend all our constitutional rights," said Raila on Thursday. "We won't hesitate to call for demonstrations if the process doesn't yield results."
As a precursor to any discussions, Azimio wants the government to immediately bring the price of maize flour to no more than Sh100 for a two-kilogramme packet and also reduce the cost of fuel, electricity and school fees.
The government's response was as inflexible as it's truthful.
"Everyday, the deputy president, the president and all of us in government are focused on implementation of the Plan, the manifesto we sold to the people of Kenya, to bring down the cost of living," said Kimani Ichungwa, the National Assembly Majority Leader, disclosing that the opposition call for maize subsidy was "unsustainable" and "ridden with corruption."
"We will not continue feeding the cartels," he said.
The ambiguity over Azimio's endgame is complicating the matters. It's unclear whether its goal is to topple the government through pressure or just pushing for new elections?
Speaker of the National Assembly Moses Wetang'ula has demanded that Raila first "recognises the legitimacy of President William Ruto's government" before any talks are held.
"If you say we are illegitimate, then we have no business talking with you," Wetangula said.
The opposition group, Azimio, has categorically denied that its goal is to share power with the ruling party, which also insists it's not ready to accommodate its rival.
"We have not asked anybody for a handshake and we don't want any handshake," Raila said. "...We're doing this in the interest of this country."
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The current standoff typifies both the weakness of the country's institutions and the politicians' indisposition to abide by the rule of law: The Supreme Court, whose ruling is final, determined that Ruto won the election fairly, but Raila doesn't trust the court or the electoral body.
The Kenyan politicians' inability to end the recurring post-election squabbling is as stark as when it all began a decade and a half ago. Raila has been disputing election results since the last four presidential elections, the last being last year, even when he ran under the guidance and protection of the former administration.
Hardliners within the ruling party believe that President Ruto's outreach has come too early. They had wished the president to wait until Raila's protests ran out of steam or at least until last Monday to see how Raila fared and how security agencies controlled the so-called mother of all protests.
In fact, the protests were already sputtering, appearing largely in containable areas in Kisumu and parts of Nairobi. The anger of ordinary Kenyans, who have largely moved on from the election-related issues, was mounting. After a brief burst of enthusiasm among Raila's supporters, the appetite for sustaining a bi-weekly protests also appeared like a fool's errand.
Internationally, President Ruto was in a comfortable position. On March 29, eight Western expressed their support for "the successful conduct of the general elections in 2022, and the unanimous confirmation of their results by the Supreme Court.
The US was all praises for the country, with its Ambassador Meg Whitman calling Kenya "the most stable democracy in East Africa."
"Kenya held what many analysts and commentators say was the freest, fairest, and most credible election in Kenyan history," said Whitman at the American Chamber of Commerce Summit in Nairobi on March 29.
Despite that overwhelming international endorsement, Raila was giving Ruto sleepless nights. And as the president of a country roiled by bi-weekly protests, Ruto should have done something to squelch the opposition group's disruption. Inaction was not an option.
Ruto, in power for just seven months, must have been stunned by the resurgence of Raila, who after the Supreme Court ruling, said he respected "the opinion of the court although we vehemently disagree with their decision."
The local TV stations were beaming live images of the protests and their ensuing chaos. Businesses were losing billions daily. Hundreds of schools were shuttered and the country's image was taking a beating.
Ruto has to throw a bone, even if it's a meatless one with long-term implications, and hope that it will be a bomb. He could well be as lucky as when, during the inauguration, he appointed the former president as the country's envoy to Ethiopia and the Democratic Republic of Congo - a wedge strategy that worked wonders and in part kept the former head of state out of the streets.
But the very action is now putting the president in a double whammy: How to keep his team's unity intact and assuage the concerns of his adversaries. He is realising that his olive branch - noble as it's - has the potential to stoke tension within the ruling coalition, whose unity is premised on rejecting anything Raila and Uhuru Kenyatta to have a fair chance to rule the country for the coming ten years.
Ruto's deputy Rigathi Gachagua has been the most vocal opposition to any bid to compromise with Raila - except for one goal: When the discussion is Raila's retirement from politics, a proposition that is equal to illegally forcing an eligible Kenyan to quit politics just because one doesn't like him or want him in the running. A flame-thrower, Riggy G -- as he's colloquially known -- sees a political risk and diminished status if Raila, an ally of the former president, is brought anywhere near the State House.
In his speech last Sunday, Ruto did make clear that he has no plan to share power with Raila.
"Our position is that we want to engage our brothers and sisters on the other side on issues that are important to Kenyans, them as an opposition, us as a government," Ruto said.
But, by opting for dialogue, President Ruto may have inadvertently opened a gate to an unpredictable outcome. What has started as a narrow call for a bi-partisan dialogue over the constitution of the electoral commission is taking a life of its own and morphing into a demand for a comprehensive reconciliation conference that could undermine his rule from within, erode his future prospect of a second term and help build the profile of the opposition among the public.
On the surface, Ruto may have little reason for worry. He has defeated Raila even when he had the backing of the former administration. He's the levers of power and faces no imminent threats to his rule. For the last seven months, he has run a tight ship and expanded his support base. The offer for dialogue was made from a position of strength that still allows him to - even during the talks - assiduously emasculate Raila's camp. Alert as a tiger, he could micromanage the process.
But the talks would entail compromises and any whiff of unreliability on his part is costly. Any perception that he's willing to sacrifice his allies' interests at the altar of appeasing Raila's camp could be politically disastrous and create a narrative of being an untrustworthy leader, an image Ruto doesn't want to convey so early in his presidency.
Appearing to cede too much ground to Raila could also undo the president's meticulous work that netted heavy weights in almost all the regions in the country. If the president gives the impression of being a wimp, his current allies could opt to flee from him and easily make up with their former friend, Raila, something that could undercut Ruto's political longevity.
Ruto's Sunday climbdown has not only demoralised the troika from Mount Kenya -- Riggy G, Ichungwa and Moses Kuria, Cabinet Secretary for Investments, Trade and Industry and -- that risked a lot to stand with him during the elections, but is telegraphing a worrying message that he's caved in too early. This perception - the lack of steadfastness -- could boost Azimio leaders' efforts to make Ruto a one-term president.
If the protests granted Raila a new lifeline to remain relevant, Ruto's initiative gave the opposition leader an opportunity to eat into the president's political future. If the enmity between Ruto and Raila were a football match, Ruto has narrowly beaten Raila 2-1 - far from the 9-0 that Riggy G recently talked of while in Kakamega. Raila is known for always coming back from a first round loss and emerging the winner in political derbies - as happened in 2008 and 2018.
Ruto's olive branch was a god-sent for Raila: The opposition leader has tested his mettle, proved his ability to mobilise tens of thousands of rioters and shook the government to its core - until it accepted dialogue with him.
But his quick acceptance of the dialogue was also full of risks. After three painful consecutive losses, anything less than a lethal political blow to Ruto wouldn't redeem the image of the 78-year old politician. Raila knows that he's fast losing his selling points and that Ruto is not the man to help him out. Ruto has just compromised on one item - recruitment of the electoral commissioners - and swatted away all others. Nothing, it seems, less than sharing power with the man, whom he accused of stealing his victory, will quench the opposition leader's thirst for power.
Raila is up against a trilemma: Angry and pumped fans, restless allies and a jaded wider public that has little sympathy for his never-ending politicking. He knows if he does not deal a lethal political blow to Ruto now, the 2027 elections are a lost cause. Ruto had already defeated him in 2022, even when he was the favourite candidate of the incumbent. An incumbent Ruto would be as immovable as Mount Kilimanjaro.
The contours of the bi-partisan, parliamentary dialogue between Kenya Kwanza, and Azimio are still unclear. The work of the selection committee picking the electoral commissioners is legal, and to change that, Parliament has to change the laws governing the constitution of the electoral body.
It will likely be days -- if not weeks -- before the Kenyan public knows how the two antagonists are trying to resolve the country's evergreen electoral malaise, or better still, its governance ills.
Both parties are still in talks among themselves before they can settle on a common agenda, with Kenya Kwanza's Parliamentary Group expected to meet around April 11 after Azimo's picked seven negotiators last Thursday.
Who will have the last laugh between Ruto, who wins when he plays the victim card, and Raila, who flourishes in peacetime, is unclear. But one thing has remained constant since 2008: Raila gained more in post-election talks.
The lull has offered both Ruto and Raila an opening to recharge their energy and return to the ring for the second round of their battle of wills that could determine the future prospect of Raila and the ruling style and President Ruto's longevity.