The Constitution of Kenya 2010
was hailed as a revolution. It promised to cut down the imperial presidency,
tame the rogue executive, and put the people at the center of power.
On paper, it did. In practice, it birthed a
Parliament so bloated, so self-absorbed, and so divorced from the suffering of
Kenyans that it now stands as the single biggest threat to our democracy.
A watchdog turned wolf
Parliament was meant to be the
people’s watchdog. Today, it is little more than a marketplace for the highest
bidder. Oversight is not exercised—it is sold. Laws are not debated in the
public interest—they are negotiated in smoky backrooms, bartered for tenders,
contracts and political IOUs.
The National Assembly under
Speaker Moses Wetang’ula and the Senate under Amason Kingi have presided over
arguably the weakest, most compromised parliaments in our history.
The Senate,
created to protect devolution, has become a parking lot for failed governors
and political flower girls. Senators roar on TV, but when it comes time to hold
county bosses accountable, they purr like kittens. County assemblies mirror the
national rot, eating where they should be serving.
We are witnessing a Parliament
that no longer legislates—it negotiates. A parliament that no longer
oversees—it extorts. A parliament that no longer represents—it exploits.
“Lords of poverty” and the
kettle-black presidency
This week, President William
Ruto branded MPs “lords of poverty.” He is not wrong. MPs thrive when citizens
are poor, because poverty makes voters pliant. A hungry electorate is an easy
electorate. That is the ugly truth.
But before Ruto pats himself on
the back for his moment of candor, let us remind him: he too is guilty. He rode
to power on hustlers’ hope, with promises of relief from taxation and waste.
Today, those hustlers are poorer than ever—crushed under punitive taxes imposed
by his government. The same man who condemned over-taxation has become
taxman-in-chief. The same man who promised frugality now presides over a
government of excess.
When Ruto calls MPs ‘lords of
poverty’, it is the kettle calling the pot black. Parliament sustains poverty.
The Executive manufactures it. Together, they are architects of the national
misery Kenyans endure daily.
A leadership of excess
Consider the obscene perks MPs
award themselves: car grants, housing allowances, foreign trips, endless
sitting allowances. All this while millions of Kenyans cannot put food on the
table.
Parents watch their children sent home for fees. Hospitals run out of
basic drugs. Farmers sell livestock for a pittance in drought-stricken
counties.
Yet our lawmakers live like
kings. Their luxury is financed by the very people trapped in despair.
The Executive is no better.
Cabinet Secretaries once expected to be technocrats, now double as political
mercenaries. Ministries are bloated with loyalists, while health, education and
agriculture cry for reform
. Governance has been reduced to PR stunts and
televised barazas, while policies that could genuinely ease the people’s burden
are buried under bureaucracy and corruption.
The people’s complicity
But here is the bitter pill:
these leaders are not imposed on us. They are elected by us. We choose tribe
over principle. We choose handouts over vision. We dance at rallies, pocket a
few hundred shillings, and then cry foul when the very leaders we cheered loot
us blind.
Every time we excuse corruption
because “he is our man,” every time we shrug off looting as “how politics
works,” we drive another nail into the coffin of our democracy.
The constitution gave us power.
Real power. It gave us tools to hold leaders accountable. Yet every election
cycle, we waste that power. We sell our sovereignty for a T-shirt or a leso and
a promise. Then we whine for five years.
2027: Kenya’s defining moment
In 2027, we will face another
test. Another chance to break free of this self-inflicted cycle. Another chance
to reject wolves dressed as shepherds. Another chance to exercise our vote
responsibly.
The stakes could not be higher.
If we get it wrong again, today’s poverty will harden into permanence. If we
get it wrong again, we will entrench a cartel state—an Executive that
manufactures misery and a Parliament that auctions our future.
President Ruto has spoken. MPs
have protested. But their quarrel is theatre. The real battle is ours. The
question is whether Kenyans will continue electing hyenas and expecting them to
guard the sheep.
Kenya deserves better
We deserve better than a
Parliament that legislates for itself and an Executive that governs for itself.
We deserve leaders who see public office not as a feeding trough but as a
sacred trust.
But that will not happen by
accident. It will not happen by wishful thinking. It will only happen if we—the
voters—rise above tribalism, handouts and empty slogans. If we demand
integrity. If we punish betrayal at the ballot box.
2027 is not a rehearsal. It is
a defining moment. If we fail again, we will have no one to blame but
ourselves.
Wanjawa
teaches Globalisation and International Development at Pwani University and is
a Programs Associate at DTM, a media CSO
