The Boiling Pot: Exposing The Rot In Kenya’s Governance And Leadership
The Mt Kenya Times 
By: Midmark Onsongo
Worth Noting:
- Consider this: in 2023 alone, over KSh 600 billion could not be accounted for by various ministries and government agencies. KSh 600 billion—money that could have been used to build schools, equip hospitals, fix roads, and feed the hungry—vanished into the black hole of corruption. “The man who eats from the communal pot but does not contribute will one day be caught with a mouthful of lies,” and yet, those responsible for the plunder sit pretty, untouchable, as though they hold a golden ticket to immunity.
- The National Youth Service (NYS) scandal, the Arror and Kimwarer dams heist, the KEMSA COVID-19 saga—these are just a few of the grotesque examples of the rot festering in our public offices.
Kenya finds itself in the eye of a storm. A storm brewing not of nature’s making, but one stirred by the hands of greed, corruption, and leadership void of conscience. “When the hyena guards the sheep, the flock will not see the morning,” and indeed, Kenya’s leadership has led the nation down a path where the stench of decay is now unbearable. The boiling pot is ready to spill over, and it’s high time we expose the rot that lies beneath.
Let’s not mince words: Kenya’s political elite has failed its people. “A fish rots from the head,” and the decay in our government has trickled down to every corner of the nation. They promised change, they promised reforms, but what they delivered were hollow words, wrapping lies in grand speeches while their hands dipped deeper into the public purse. “A thief who hides in the light is no different from one who lurks in the shadows,” and so our leaders, draped in their tailored suits and draped in flags of patriotism, steal in broad daylight. The question is: how long will Kenyans remain blind to this daylight robbery?
Consider this: in 2023 alone, over KSh 600 billion could not be accounted for by various ministries and government agencies. KSh 600 billion—money that could have been used to build schools, equip hospitals, fix roads, and feed the hungry—vanished into the black hole of corruption. “The man who eats from the communal pot but does not contribute will one day be caught with a mouthful of lies,” and yet, those responsible for the plunder sit pretty, untouchable, as though they hold a golden ticket to immunity.
The National Youth Service (NYS) scandal, the Arror and Kimwarer dams heist, the KEMSA COVID-19 saga—these are just a few of the grotesque examples of the rot festering in our public offices. “When the house is on fire, you do not argue over who lit the match; you rush to put it out,” but instead of putting out the fire of corruption, our leaders pour gasoline on it. The Auditor General’s reports are ignored, the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission (EACC) is toothless, and the courts have become revolving doors for the rich and powerful who are never held accountable for their crimes.
Meanwhile, the ordinary Kenyan is left to fend for themselves. “The grass that grows under the shade of a tree never sees the sun,” and indeed, the people of Kenya remain in the dark, weighed down by the heavy yoke of taxation. The Finance Bill of 2023 was a cruel joke—taxes upon taxes heaped on the backs of struggling Kenyans, while the political elite continues to enjoy tax exemptions and luxury lifestyles funded by the very people they oppress. It’s a classic case of “robbing Peter to pay Paul,” except in this case, Peter is the ordinary Kenyan, and Paul is the bloated government, stuffed with corruption and greed.
Let’s talk about those in power. The political class in Kenya has perfected the art of manipulation. They whip up ethnic tensions, pit tribes against one another, and create artificial divisions to distract the public from their thievery. “When the lion wants to eat, it stirs the herd,” and our politicians, like lions on the prowl, stir the people into a frenzy with promises of change that never come. Instead of building unity, they create disunity. Instead of fostering development, they foster chaos. The more divided we are, the easier it is for them to pick our pockets while we argue among ourselves.
And then there is the problem of impunity. The culture of impunity in Kenya is a festering wound that refuses to heal. “A snake that sheds its skin is still a snake,” and no matter how many reshuffles, resignations, or reappointments we see in government, the same rotten individuals remain in power, hiding behind new titles or ministries. These are people who should be in prison, not in office. But in Kenya, the rule of law is for the poor and powerless, while the rich and well-connected glide above it like birds in the sky. When was the last time you saw a major politician serve time for corruption? “A bird that refuses to sing for fear of falling will never know the joy of flight,” but in Kenya, our leaders are too afraid to hold their own accountable, fearing the consequences might one day land at their own doorsteps.
Let’s take a moment to address the elephant in the room: political dynasties. Kenya has been ruled by the same families for decades, their influence stretching like a web across every sector of society. The Kenyattas, the Odingas, the Mois—they have become symbols of Kenya’s political stagnation. “A tree that grows in the same place year after year will one day block out the sun,” and indeed, these political dynasties have blocked the path to true progress and democracy. They cling to power, passing it down through generations, while pretending to champion the cause of the ordinary Kenyan. But let’s be honest: they are champions only of themselves and their interests.
But here’s the real kicker: we, the people, allow it to happen. “The man who stands silent while his house is robbed is as guilty as the thief,” and we, too, must shoulder some of the blame. For too long, Kenyans have been passive, accepting the status quo with a shrug of resignation. We’ve allowed ourselves to be bought with handouts during elections, trading our votes for sugar, maize flour, or a few coins, forgetting that these small tokens are nothing compared to what is stolen from us every day by the same politicians we elect. “A man who sells his freedom for a meal will one day find he is both hungry and enslaved,” and we are living that reality now. Hungry, enslaved by corruption and bad leadership, and with no one to blame but ourselves for the leaders we continue to choose.
So, what’s the solution? It’s not enough to point fingers and expose the rot. “The man who shouts about a broken pot must be willing to mend it,” and Kenya needs mending—urgently. We need a revolution of conscience, where we refuse to be pawns in the political games of the elite. We need to stop voting along tribal lines, stop accepting bribes, and start holding our leaders accountable. We need to demand transparency, not just in word, but in action. The public must have access to the government’s books, we must demand to know where every shilling goes, and those caught stealing must be punished—not with a slap on the wrist, but with jail time. Real time.
Moreover, we need a new generation of leaders—leaders who are not tainted by the corruption of the past, who are not beholden to political dynasties or vested interests. “A ship can only change direction if the captain is willing to turn the wheel,” and Kenya needs a captain who is not afraid to steer the ship in a new direction. But leadership alone will not save us; it will take collective action. The people must rise, not in violent protest, but in peaceful defiance of the status quo. We must demand better, and we must refuse to settle for anything less.
Kenya’s boiling pot of corruption, greed, and bad leadership has reached its limit. “A pot that boils for too long will crack,” and Kenya is on the verge of cracking wide open unless we take decisive action now. The time for excuses is over. The time for passivity is over. It is time for every Kenyan to stand up, speak out, and demand the change that we so desperately need. “A nation that ignores its future is doomed to repeat its past,” and we cannot afford to let Kenya’s future be stolen by the same hands that have robbed us of our present.
MIDMARK ONSONGO
(Sustainable economist, Geopolitics strategizer)
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