By Victoria Mwende and Alex Njeru
In the tranquil village of Marimanti, nestled in the heart of Tharaka constituency, grief hangs heavily in the air. The Mwenda family is mourning the loss of their 22-year-old son, Daniel Mwenda—a bright university student whose future once shone with promise, but was tragically cut short.
Daniel took his own life after falling deep into the clutches of sports betting—a habit that began with hope and ended in despair. His story is a painful example of a growing epidemic sweeping across the county and far beyond: the silent, seductive and often deadly lure of gambling among the youth.
Daniel’s journey into betting began innocently enough. What started as small stakes placed on football matches quickly spiraled into addiction. Unable to escape the mounting debts and overwhelmed by shame, he chose a permanent escape, leaving behind a devastated family and a shocked community.
Across Tharaka Nithi, an increasing number of young people are falling prey to the bright lights and false promises of the betting industry.
According to a 2023 report by GeoPoll, a staggering 76% of Kenyan youth aged between 17 and 35 have participated in gambling—most commonly through football betting. Alarmingly, 40% of them place bets daily, often with money borrowed from friends, family, or mobile lenders.
“I started betting in December 2024,” says Martin Munene, a 21-year-old from Chuka town. “At first, I was staking just 50 shillings. Then I started winning and thought I had found a way out of poverty. Now I bet up to 300 shillings a day, mostly on Aviator.”
But behind the glossy promotions both online and on the billboards lies a grim reality—lost savings, ruined relationships, growing mental health issues, and in tragic cases like Daniel’s, suicide.
“Many youths now consider betting a side hustle,” says Danson, a 23-year-old student also from Chuka. “I began with the hope of raising school fees. But it has become something I can’t control.”
The accessibility of betting platforms and other online betting apps only makes things worse. With smartphones and internet bundles, betting can happen anytime, anywhere—between lectures, during work breaks, or even late at night in bed.
Authorities have taken some action. In November 2024, police conducted a major crackdown, seizing over 69 illegal gambling machines across the county. Officers reported that betting was fueling petty crime, school dropout rates, and domestic strife.
In some cases, desperate youth were caught selling household items—including their parents’ property—just to fund their bets.
“It’s a vicious cycle,” says Mary Wanjiku, a local counselor who has seen a sharp rise in youth seeking mental health support. “They win once or twice, and then they’re hooked. When they start losing, the stress becomes unbearable. We’re seeing more cases of depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts.”
Wanjiku insists that combating gambling addiction requires more than enforcement. “We need a multi-pronged approach—community support, awareness campaigns, access to counseling, and better economic opportunities for our young people.”
Government-led initiatives have started to take root, including digital literacy programs and entrepreneurship training. But experts warn that without active community involvement, the gains will be short-lived.
Teachers, parents, churches, and youth groups are being urged to open conversations about gambling and its risks. Meanwhile, calls are growing for tighter regulation of betting advertisements, especially those targeting young audiences.
As the country grapples with this modern menace, the memory of Daniel Mwenda lingers—a painful reminder of what’s at stake. His mother, seated quietly beside his framed graduation photo, speaks through tears. “He wanted to make us proud. He didn’t know how to ask for help.”
Daniel’s story may have ended in tragedy, but it could also be a turning point. With united effort—from the ground up—there is still hope that other young lives can be saved before it’s too late.
Mt Kenya Times 
Bernard Munyao