According to Dr Joshua Cheboiwo, the country needs around 100,000 cubic meters of hardwood annually, most of which now comes from the DRC.
“Between 65,000 and 68,000 cubic meters are officially imported each year, but the real figure is probably much higher,” Cheboiwo says.
Some of the furniture is displayed along Ngong Road and made from mahogany on June 21, 2025/DOUGLAS OKIDDY
On Nairobi’s bustling Ngong Road, the sound of mallets and saws fills the air. At the roadside furniture market, men with bulging muscles haul freshly cut timber from handcarts and lorries, weaving through crowds of buyers. Dust and sweat settle on everything.
Here, in open-air workshops, carpenters craft elegant mahogany furniture – solid, termite-proof, and built to last – for affluent buyers from neighbourhoods like Runda, Karen, and Lavington.
But behind these polished tabletops and intricately carved armchairs lies a story of shadowy supply chains, porous borders, and forest exploitation, tracing back over a thousand kilometres to the heart of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC).
“Almost all the mahogany here comes from Congo,” says Anthony Muchui, who has operated a furniture yard along Ngong Road since 2018. “It’s durable, shock-resistant, and it finishes beautifully.”
Muchui estimates his business consumes about 30 tonnes of mahogany every one to two months. His biggest challenge? “Getting timber from the DRC between August and December is tough,” he says, citing logistical bottlenecks and erratic supply.
Timber arrives through agents who secure permits from both Congolese and Ugandan authorities. Once it crosses into Kenya, truck drivers present documentation from the DRC, tax papers from the Kenya Revenue Authority (KRA), and personal IDs.
Still, Muchui concedes that not all timber is clean.
“I depend on the documents, but we all know illegal timber still gets in.”
Samuel Mwenda, who owns Rehoboth Finest Timber and Furniture Dealers, imports timber from both Congo and Uganda.
He uses agents stationed at the Busia border to process paperwork. “If all goes well, it takes four days,” he says.
Like Muchui, he insists on documentation but adds, “We know the system can be manipulated.”
Truck drivers don’t feel equipped to vet timber legality. “We don’t track what’s legal or not,” says Nicholas Mbugua, Executive Secretary of the Kenya Long Distance Truck Drivers and Allied Workers Union.
“We’ve pushed for a monitoring desk at the border, but nothing concrete yet.” Drivers, he says, aren’t trained to detect fake permits. “We need a joint desk with KRA to properly inspect documents.”
Kenya banned the logging of indigenous hardwoods in 2018, triggering a severe shortage.
According to Dr Joshua Cheboiwo, former CEO of the Kenya Forestry Research Institute (KEFRI), the country needs around 100,000 cubic meters of hardwood annually, most of which now comes from the DRC.
“Between 65,000 and 68,000 cubic meters are officially imported each year, but the real figure is probably much higher,” Cheboiwo says. “A lot of it comes through porous borders.”
The supply chain is murky and multilayered.
Sinai furniture CEO Antony Muchui Minuori at his workshop where furniture made of Mahogany tree is sold on June 21, 2025./DOUGLAS OKIDDY
Congolese contractors often hire Ugandans to fell trees using chainsaws and mobile mills. The timber is transported through Uganda into Kenya, frequently without proper oversight.
“Once it reaches Kenya, it’s stamped and appears legal,” Cheboiwo explains. “But weak governance in DRC makes it hard to verify the true origin.”
Logging Congo: behind the curtain
In eastern DRC, timber exploitation is concentrated in the provinces of Ituri, Bas-Uélé, and Tshopo. These forested regions have become a goldmine for logging operators in North Kivu and Ituri.
“Local chiefs sell access to trees. We pay the ‘Kingiyapoli'–usually a goat and some beer–and hire pygmies as guides because they know the forest best,” says Justin Malekani, a former logging manager turned carpenter in Butembo.
A single mahogany tree can cost between $300 and $500, depending on its size.
Operators often work informally, purchasing trees individually rather than acquiring large-scale concessions. They hire machinists, pay in cash, and transport timber using bicycles, porters, or trucks.
Malekani recalls how alcohol and sex work are common among workers in remote logging camps.
A skilled machinist can produce three cubic meters of boards per day–about three tonnes or 36 planks.
“You need to treat them well to keep that pace,” Malekani says, smiling faintly.
Legal operations require a permit from the National Forestry Fund (FFN) and demarcation by the environmental service. But many bypass these requirements.
“Fraud makes things too easy,” says one operator. “If we register companies, we’ll go bankrupt from bureaucracy. Working alone is better.”
Others operate with protection from armed groups or political elites. “If you ask too many questions, you start getting calls,” says a member of a local logging office.
Some illegal operators piggyback on the permits of legal exporters, complicating traceability.
An FFN officer in Bunia explains that while eight to ten logging permits might be issued, dozens more loggers are found in the field.
Many illegal loggers sell to exporters with established links to foreign markets.
Bribery and border gaps
At the Kasindi border crossing between the DRC and Uganda, timber exporters face a labyrinth of informal fees and harassment.
They pay the Congolese Control Office (OCC), National Intelligence Agency (ANR), and other agents, amounting to $1,000 to $1,200 – before trucks are even loaded.
And that’s before factoring in roadside bribes. “We’re stopped at every checkpoint and asked for 5,000 or 10,000 Congolese francs,” says logging entrepreneur Mika Mathe.
At Kasindi’s timber yard, officials are supposed to register timber details – logger’s name, species, permit number, and volume – before export. But many exporters avoid this step.
Trucks often leave sealed and uninspected, bound for Uganda or Kenya.
A 2023 study by Silvia Ferrari and Paolo Omar Cerutti found that 93% of timber passing through the Kasindi yard in 2021 lacked valid logging permits.
“Most documents mention only one species – African mahogany,” the study noted. It also revealed that many trucks travel at night or on weekends to evade inspection.
A regional problem
At Kenya’s Busia border post, officials from KRA and the Kenya Forest Service (KFS) review certificates of origin and transit documents. Still, some shipments bypass official checks.
“We know timber is smuggled in,” admits Andrew Soi, Deputy Chief Conservator at KFS.
“Some trucks arrive without passing through regular entry points.”
KFS Chief Conservator Alex Lemarkoko says Kenya is ramping up plant health controls and working with other countries to track timber movements.
“We need cross-border coordination and stronger monitoring.”
Experts argue that protecting the Congo Basin requires a regional solution. With forests in Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania already depleted, demand has shifted to the DRC.
“Many agents at the DRC-Uganda border are involved in the trade,” says CIFOR-ICRAF researcher Paolo Cerutti. “Some shipments are clean. Others aren’t.”
He highlights language barriers – French in DRC, English in Kenya and Uganda – as a challenge for verifying documentation. “The labourers doing the hard work are underpaid,” he says. “Meanwhile, middlemen make the profits.”
Without stronger forest governance, he warns, it’s nearly impossible to track timber origins. “Corruption makes everything murky.”
Cerutti and other researchers urge regional bodies like the East African Community (EAC) and Southern African Development Community (SADC) to act.
“They’ve made promises on paper to protect forests. It’s time to deliver.”
George Tarus, Kenya’s Forestry Development Secretary, says the country is committed to protecting the Congo Basin.
“We’re working with East African institutions to strengthen enforcement and stop illegal activity,” he says.
This story was supported by InfoNile in partnership with Global Forest Watch.
