Why Kenya, the ‘Singapore’ that never existed, still stinks worse than hell

In Kenya, every day begins with a new fundraising appeal: an emergency hospital bill, a school fees crisis, a community roads project. We have become masters at rallying each other for help, using WhatsApp groups and M-Changa platforms to raise money for issues that our taxes should already cover. But this cycle of private solutions to public problems reveals a deeper, systemic problem: our government, to whom our resources are entrusted, is failing to deliver results. When we turn to private solutions, we only mask the symptoms while ignoring the disease – the rampant theft and mismanagement of public resources. These problems persist not because we lack resources, but because those meant to manage them steal, squander, or misuse them. Fundraising then becomes a distraction – a temporary solution that allows corrupt people to avoid responsibility.

Every fundraising campaign we launch is an indictment of the system that is failing us. It is a glaring reminder that despite paying taxes that fund the luxurious lifestyle of a few, basic amenities remain inaccessible to the majority. Instead of having quality public hospitals, well-equipped schools and functional infrastructure, we are forced to pay twice – once through taxes and again through fundraising – to access what should be our right. And in our desperate attempts to resolve these crises privately, we fail to face the truth: that the very taxes we pay fund our misery, while government officials line their pockets and build fortunes on our hardships. This endless cycle traps us in a perpetual state of crisis management and distracts us from the real struggle for systemic change.

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We need to connect the dots and ask why, despite the billions allocated annually to healthcare, education and infrastructure, we still struggle to raise money for emergencies. The reality is that our taxes are being plundered long before they can translate into meaningful services. Reports from the Auditor General reveal how billions earmarked for crucial services are disappearing into ghost projects, inflated tenders and the pockets of civil servants. We cannot escape this reality by throwing money at private solutions. Instead, we should focus our energy on demanding that these taxes work for us. The misery we face every day – from broken hospitals to inaccessible schools – is a direct result of unchecked corruption. Until we face this head on, our lives will continue to be defined by a series of desperate fundraisers.

Our lives are miserable not because we have no resources, but because we fail to hold those in power accountable. The rich and politically connected steal our future and convince us to accept it as destiny. We must wake up to the truth: no amount of private intervention will solve the public problems caused by corruption and incompetence. If our taxes fund the services that are needed, we wouldn’t have to rely on family and friends to solve crises. It’s time we demand more and hold our leaders accountable. Otherwise we will continue to live like beggars in a country where we are already taxed like kings.

In Kenya, taxes are the gospel of the land – citizens are forced to pay 60% of their income to a state apparatus that claims to serve them, only for these taxes to disappear into the pockets of a few, leaving the country barren. Despite our contributions, our hospitals are crumbling, our schools are decaying, and our roads are eroding. And instead of exercising our power to demand accountability, we rush to fix public failures with private Band-Aids. It’s time we connect the dots between our servitude, the theft of our resources, and the miserable lives we lead.

First, consider healthcare. Public hospitals, despite the billions allocated, remain a death trap. In 2022 alone, the Ministry of Health’s budget was KES 122 billion, yet over KES 50 billion was looted through procurement scams. As Kenyans die in inadequately equipped facilities, the elite flock to private hospitals or fly abroad for treatment. We, the taxpayers, are responding by turning to WhatsApp groups and fundraisers. Doesn’t this speak of a broken system, where citizens have to crowdsource what their taxes should guarantee? And yet the Ministry of Health has glittering offices, while Kenyans lie on the ground praying for miracles.

Our education system reflects this rot. While we are told that KES544 billion is earmarked for education, a huge chunk is pocketed by cartels selling ghost textbooks and equipment. Public schools become shadows of learning, dilapidated and understaffed. In their desperation to escape this chaos, the middle class sends their children to private schools, which charge fees so high you’d be forgiven for thinking they were training astronauts. Yet education remains the domain of those who can afford it, and even they are not spared from the tax burden that supposedly funds this system.

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Look at security: KES 317 billion is allocated annually, and yet we are our guardians. Our taxes buy luxury SUVs for county commissioners, but the rest of us install private alarms, pay security guards, and barricade our homes. Why then do we tolerate such a robbery when, in a functioning state, we should sleep with the windows open, as in Singapore? But no, here theft and fear are nationalized, and security is yet another service we privately purchase to cover for a state that is too busy robbing us.

Consider agriculture. We hear that billions are spent every year to ’empower farmers’, yet 80% of our food is imported. Kenyan breadbasket regions such as Trans-Nzoia suffer from a lack of irrigation systems. Farmers fend for themselves and buy expensive private inputs, while government officials pocket subsidies meant for them. Meanwhile, we read reports like that of the Auditor General detailing KES 10 billion stolen under bogus fertilizer schemes. And the middle class? They avoid the conversation even as the prices of ugali and vegetables rise.

Public transport is a different joke. Billions are budgeted for road and rail projects, but it is the elite’s personal drivers and helicopters that benefit. The Nairobi Expressway, a vanity project designed for those who already have options, has tolls that extort the last shilling from citizens. Matatus, the backbone of public transport, remains a death trap, and instead of pushing for better policies, we buy cars we can’t afford and curse traffic.

Water scarcity is another spectacle of our tax theft. The government allocates KES62 billion annually to water projects, but Kenyans still have to buy tanks, dig boreholes or pay private water vendors. A study by Transparency International found that KES 20 billion would be lost on water projects in 2023 alone. The dams that should have irrigated our country and provided clean water exist only on paper, while officials line their pockets with money that should support life.

Electricity costs in Kenya defy logic. We pay taxes to KPLC, but experience power outages, and when it becomes too unbearable, we turn to private generators and solar solutions. In 2024, Kenya Power reported KES 170 billion in revenue, but only KES 45 billion went to improving infrastructure. The rest? A mystery. Private businesses thrive while public businesses falter, and the middle class continues to cling to silence, ignoring that their bills fund politicians’ lifestyles.

Housing is another quagmire. The government is singing the song of affordable housing and allocating KES 60 billion, of which only half disappears. Corruption scandals pollute the Ministry of Housing, while officials allocate money to ghost projects. In a country where public housing should be the norm, citizens are forced to mortgage their future homes in overpriced estates. We act as if this is normal and ignore that in Singapore every citizen can afford decent housing.

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Look at our infrastructure – supposedly a priority, with KES 217 billion budgeted for roads and bridges, but most of these funds are siphoned off through inflated contracts and ghost projects. A recent report from the Institute for Economic Affairs shows that 40% of infrastructure funds are lost every year. The roads we drive on are potholed paths that lead to despair, and while we curse and complain, those who built them by stealing from us are building mansions.

Then there is production – our savior, we are told. KES 150 billion has been budgeted for industrialization, but this all goes to wasteful foreign trips, high-level conferences and the purchase of luxury vehicles. Local industries remain stagnant and face high energy bills, inadequate water supplies and insecurity. Our taxes fund bureaucrats who live lavish lifestyles, while the citizens who are supposed to improve these industries face unemployment.

As far as tourism is concerned, despite the billions allocated, Kenyan parks lack basic facilities. Tourists must pay for private safaris and services. It is a wonder how officials manage to pocket money meant for preserving our heritage. Our national parks receive less funding than MPs’ monthly fuel allowances.

The middle class in Kenya is the most duplicitous group; it remains silent in the face of all these crises as long as they can afford private solutions. They avoid politics, believing that their gated communities will protect them. But as the government digs deeper into its pockets and taxes even their most private efforts, they soon discover that no one escapes.

Until Kenyans wake up and connect the dots between stolen taxes and missing services, we will continue to struggle for survival in a broken system. We can’t WhatsApp it out. Our taxes fund the luxurious lifestyle of a few, and until we regain our power, our lives will remain worse than those of Sudan: empty, without a future.

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