By Mr. Fredrick Kipchumba Chelimo PWD
Chairperson, Jiamini Disability network Community Based organization
Email: jiamini.network@gmail.com
The transformation from the persons with disabilities bill, proposed in various forms between 2020-2023 to the final person with disabilities Act 2025 in Kenya the bill underwent some significant changes that watered it down. Several intended benefits including job quotas, funding guarantees, direct stipends, free medical care to highest standards and strict enforcement timelines were either differed, made voluntary, eliminated or reduced in scope.
For those who navigate life through the lens of disability, the language of structure, balance, and design is not symbolic, but it is lived reality. A tripod does not negotiate with imbalance. It stands firmly when all three legs are equal in strength and purpose. The failure of one does not merely weaken the structure but renders it unstable, unreliable and ultimately unusable. In much the same way, Kenya’s governance architecture was carefully envisioned under the Constitution of Kenya 2010 and was never meant to function with compromised legislature. The Constitution established a deliberate equilibrium between the executive, legislature and the judiciary, each arm entrusted with a distinct but interdependent mandate. This balance was intended to safeguard against concentration of power and guarantee that public interest, especially that of vulnerable populations, would remain protected. Today, this balance appears strained.
From the standpoint of persons living with disabilities, governance is not an abstract interplay of institutions. It is deeply personal, it determines whether policies translate into accessible infrastructure, whether laws ensure economic participation, whether rights are upheld in practice or merely articulated in paper. When parliament, the institution constitutionally mandated to represent the people, fails to robustly interrogate executive proposals, it is not simply a procedural lapse, but a direct erosion of protection for those who rely most on legislative vigilance.
There is a growing unease, grounded in observable patterns, that the legislative process has become alarmingly expedient. Proposals appear to move at supersonic speeds from executive conception to parliamentary approval, often without the depth of scrutiny, debate and public participation that the constitution demands. In such an environment, parliament risks being perceived not as a guardian of people’s will, but as a conduit for executive intent.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the evolution of disability legislation. The efforts of Sen. Crystal Asige and the team in advancing a progressive disability framework raised legitimate hope within the disability community. The vision was clear, bold and humane and anchored in the recognition that dignity must be underpinned by tangible support, including a proposed minimum monthly stipend of Ksh 10,000 per person with disabilities.
However, in the final legislative form, the persons with disabilities Act 2025 fell short of these promises. What emerged was a law marked with ambiguity, differed obligations, and an overreliance on future delegated regulations for its operational substance. Critical provisions were diluted, timelines blurred, and enforceability weakened. The result is a statute that acknowledges rights in principle but postponed their realization in practice to a future uncertain date.
To appreciably understand the magnitude of this, one must turn to another simple but profound analogy. A garment, like a law, must be carefully designed from the outset. It must be measured precisely, cut with intention, and be tailored to fit the needs of its wearer. When this process is rushed or compromised, no amount of patchwork can restore its integrity. Each repair, each alteration, does not strengthen the garment, but diminishes it. Overtime, what was meant to confer dignity becomes a patchwork of inadequacies, a tattered piece that neither fits nor protects.
This is the path that disability legislation in Kenya has taken. By failing to get it right at inception, Parliament has effectively set the stage for prolonged cycle of amendments, petition, appeals, and administrative interventions. What should have been a definitive instrument of empowerment is instead becoming an evolving negotiation, one that demands constant correction before it can deliver meaningful benefits.
For persons with disabilities, this is not a theoretical inconvenience. It is a lived burden. Each delayed regulation translates into postponed access to essential drugs, tools and services. Each ambiguous provision creates room for exclusion. Each unimplemented promise deepens the gap between constitutional ideals and everyday reality. The consequences is sustained suffering, continued marginalization, and the persistence of systemic discrimination.
The fragmentation currently witnessed within the disability sector, manifested in scattered petitions, appeals, and advocacy efforts, is itself a symptom of legislative inadequacy. In the absence of clear, enforceable provisions, stakeholders are compelled to pursue different pathways in search of clarity and redress. This not only weakens collective advocacy but also shifts the responsibility of enforcement into those least equipped to bear it.
At the broader level, this reality compels a difficult but unnecessary reflection on public accountability. Parliament operates in a significant public investment. Taxpayers fund not only the renumeration of legislators but also the institutional infrastructure, technical expertise, and technological systems that underpin legislative work. This investment carries with it an expectation of value, of law that are thoroughly and thoughtfully crafted, rigorously debated and effectively implemented.
When this expectation is not met, when legislation emerges incomplete or differed, the question of return on investment becomes unavoidable. For persons with disabilities, the answer is measured not in abstract metrics but tangible outcomes – access, inclusion, opportunity, empowerment and dignity. Where these remain elusive, the system cannot be said to be delivering.
It must be emphasized that the Constitution of Kenya 2010 did not envisage a Legislature that would legislate by approximation. It envisioned a Parliament that would act with precision, foresight, and accountability. A Parliament that would recognize that for vulnerable populations, delays are not neutral, they are harmful and often irreversible. The path forward requires both institutional courage and civic resolve. Parliament must reclaim its constitutional mandate by strengthening legislative scrutiny, ensuring clarity in lawmaking, and prioritizing the immediate operationalization of statutes that affect vulnerable groups, if possible, at speeds that supersedes their packs request. Law must be designed to function not merely to exist.
At the same time, the disability community must move towards greater cohesion and strategic engagement. Advocacy must evolve from reactive petition to coordinated, sustained efforts that demand accountability at every stage of governance. The promise of inclusion cannot be left to chance and international disability days celebrations, but be pursued with deliberate and unified resolve.
A tripod cannot stand on imbalance. A garment cannot serve when reduced to patches. And a governance system cannot deliver justice when its laws are conceived without rigour and implemented without urgency. For persons with disabilities in Kenya, this is not simply a critique, it is a call to restore, to reclaim purpose, and ensure that structures meant to support do not become the very instruments of exclusion.
Jerameel Kevins Owuor Odhiambo 
Mt Kenya Times