Evaluating Kenya’s Affordable Housing Program: Benefits and Risks

Kenya’s Affordable Housing Programme (AHP) has been framed by the government as a historic solution to the nation’s urban housing deficit — a bold, transformative plan to put 250,000 new housing units into the hands of low- and middle-income earners each year. It’s the crown jewel of the Kenya Kwanza administration’s economic agenda, wrapped in promises of job creation, urban renewal, and dignity for the working class. But behind the polished press briefings and televised groundbreakings, the cracks are showing. Critics argue the housing levy — a mandatory deduction from all salaried workers — amounts to taxation without representation, especially when access to the houses is uncertain and the projected costs remain largely unaffordable for the very people funding them. Worse still, the rollout has sparked deep anxiety over forced evictions, unclear beneficiary selection processes, and the growing fear that without proper planning, these “affordable” units may become vertical slums stacked over broken infrastructure. For many Kenyans, the project feels less like a social contract and more like a speculative bet — one where the house always wins, and it’s not the public holding the keys.

A Report by Citizen Digital

The legal and structural questions around the housing project are mounting. In 2023, the High Court ruled parts of the Affordable Housing Act unconstitutional — particularly the centralized levy collection through the Kenya Revenue Authority, which bypassed public participation and legislative oversight. While the government quickly responded with legislative tweaks, the shadow of that ruling lingers. Public trust in housing delivery remains fragile, especially given Kenya’s history with failed or stalled housing programs and ghost estates like the infamous Nyayo House projects. Though the state touts the initiative as “inclusive,” it is heavily reliant on public-private partnerships where the private sector bears little risk, while taxpayers shoulder both the capital and the consequences. Key policy watchdogs argue that the financing model lacks transparency, and that the absence of social safeguards could lead to gentrification and displacement, particularly in areas like Mukuru, Kibera, and Mathare where informal settlements sit on prime land now targeted for redevelopment. The big risk? That homes built in the name of the poor end up benefiting civil servants, politicians, and private investors — not the mama mboga or jua kali artisan.

If Kenya’s affordable housing dream is to succeed, it must move beyond brick-and-mortar targets and confront the human realities of affordability, transparency, and equity. The price tags on many units still outpace the average urban worker’s income. The so-called “affordable” category often starts at KSh 1.5M — a figure out of reach for most informal sector workers who make up over 80% of Kenya’s labor force. Meanwhile, the digitized application and allocation model, while meant to enhance fairness, risks excluding those without access to mobile money, smartphones, or stable identification — particularly the urban poor it claims to prioritize. Additionally, new housing developments are outpacing investments in transport, sewerage, schools, and hospitals, raising fears that these estates will quickly deteriorate into overpopulated, under-serviced high-rises. The government must urgently clarify allocation policies, invest in supporting infrastructure, and put people — not politics — at the center of the housing agenda. Because if “affordable housing” becomes just another ambitious slogan without delivery, it won’t just fail to fix the housing crisis — it will deepen Kenya’s already fractured urban future.

References:

KBC Completed number of affordable housing units down by half

The Eastleigh Voice Govt raises affordable housing research budget to Sh2.8bn amid credibility concerns

Capital News Ruto says handing over Housing units the most consequential day of his political career.

NTV Who got Ruto Mukuru houses? Not us, residents now claim

Citizen Digital Vertical slums: How new crop of apartments in Kilimani, Kileleshwa is affecting Nairobi’s infrastructure

Broken Chalk, Heavy Minds: Kenya’s Teachers Are Cracking Under Pressure

Behind the lesson plans, classroom chalkboards, and national curriculum reforms lies a worsening crisis no one wants to confront: the mental health of Kenyan teachers. While policymakers debate school infrastructure and CBC reforms, teachers — especially those deployed to remote hardship areas — are quietly slipping into psychological distress. Long hours, poor housing, insecurity, and administrative pressure are converging into what experts describe as a “mental health time bomb.” According to recent findings, over 25% of teachers in hardship zones exhibit symptoms of burnout, anxiety, or depression. This figure is likely underreported, given the stigma that still surrounds mental health discussions in the education sector. The harsh irony is that those tasked with nurturing the mental and emotional well-being of children are themselves emotionally depleted, working under punishing conditions with minimal support. For teachers posted to far-flung regions — from Turkana to Taita Taveta — the challenges aren’t just professional; they’re deeply personal. They’re living in fear of conflict, cut off from families, often without access to clean water or stable power — and still expected to deliver top academic outcomes.

A Report by K24TV

This psychological pressure has come to a head following a proposal by the Teachers Service Commission (TSC) to revise the hardship allowance structure. The proposal suggests reviewing and potentially reducing hardship allowances in counties where conditions are deemed to have “improved” — including several historically marginalized regions like Marsabit, Mandera, Isiolo, and Kilifi. This has sparked instant backlash from the Kenya Union of Post Primary Education Teachers (KUPPET) and the Kenya National Union of Teachers (KNUT), who argue that the proposed changes are tone-deaf and dangerous. Union leaders insist that the so-called improved areas still suffer from chronic insecurity, food scarcity, poor health services, and deplorable living conditions. Cutting allowances under these conditions, they argue, will only deepen teacher shortages, worsen morale, and push more educators into psychological breakdown. Already, high turnover and transfer requests plague hardship regions — not because teachers don’t care, but because they are exhausted, isolated, and unsupported. The allowance, for many, is the only remaining incentive tethering them to these underserved regions. Removing or reducing it, without real infrastructure or support investment, is like cutting the safety net and hoping no one falls.

But the issue isn’t just about allowances — it’s about the invisible costs of neglecting teacher welfare. As mental health deteriorates and professional burnout spikes, teaching quality suffers, student outcomes drop, and entire communities are affected. What’s urgently needed is not just an economic rethink of allowances, but a national teacher wellness policy. Mental health support must be built into education sector planning, especially for those in high-stress deployments. That means professional counseling access, more humane deployment cycles, structured leave, and peer support programs. The government must stop treating teachers as expendable cogs in the machinery of curriculum delivery — and start seeing them as human beings, whose mental strength is foundational to national development. Education reform can’t succeed on exhausted minds and broken morale. Kenya cannot afford to ignore this crisis in its classrooms any longer.

References:

The Standard Teachers fume over plan to slash their hardship allowance

Kenyans.co.ke Teachers Threaten to Strike as Push and Pull On Hardship Allowance Intensifies

The Eastleigh Voice Teachers unions reject govt plan to reclassify hardship areas without consultation

Fake Medicines Threaten Public Health in Kenya

Kenya’s pharmaceutical supply chain is facing a creeping, deadly crisis — one that’s quietly poisoning public trust in healthcare. In 2024 alone, over 30 different drug products were recalled in Kenya, more than doubling the previous year’s figure. This disturbing surge included contaminated pediatric syrups, mislabeled antibiotics, and packaging mix-ups between life-saving cancer drugs and common generics. Some of these were produced by global manufacturers with once-reputable names. The growing scale and severity of these incidents have exposed glaring weaknesses in regulatory enforcement, border control, and supply chain oversight. But beyond the headlines lies a darker story — fake and substandard medicines are no longer rare exceptions; they are becoming routine features in pharmacies, clinics, and even households. As treatment failures rise and drug resistance intensifies, trust in medicine itself is breaking down. Patients increasingly worry: if I walk into a pharmacy, how can I know what I’m buying won’t kill me?

A K24 Report from 2024

The regulator, the Pharmacy and Poisons Board (PPB), is overwhelmed. With just 16 inspectors tasked with overseeing a vast and evolving market — spanning over 10,000 retail outlets, mobile vendors, and now, an unregulated e-pharmacy explosion — enforcement efforts are falling behind. In 2024, the PPB shut down 117 illegal pharmacies, an important but ultimately symbolic move in the face of thousands more operating without licenses or pharmacist supervision. Online drug sales are the new front line. A study found that over 60% of Kenyan e-pharmacies sell restricted drugs like antibiotics and sedatives without prescriptions, bypassing safeguards entirely. These platforms, often disguised as Instagram shops, WhatsApp-based vendors, or websites with fake credentials, target desperate buyers looking for cheap, fast relief. With little digital verification, no pharmacist involvement, and no legal framework to manage or penalize them, the risk of mass harm is escalating. Meanwhile, legitimate pharmacies face the fallout: eroded consumer confidence, a rise in self-medication, and unfair competition from black-market sellers. At the center of it all is a poorly resourced regulator trapped in a battle it cannot win with its current tools.

Fixing this won’t come from a few more closures or stern warnings. What’s needed is a total overhaul of pharmaceutical regulation and public health literacy. The PPB needs financial and legal independence, an expanded workforce, and modern tools — including barcode authentication, blockchain-backed tracking systems, and real-time reporting dashboards for drug recalls and falsifications. E-pharmacies must be brought under legal oversight immediately, with criminal penalties for non-compliant platforms. Consumer protection should no longer be passive; the government must launch aggressive national awareness campaigns to teach people how to identify fake drugs, report suspicious sources, and verify prescriptions. Crucially, Kenya must repair public trust — not just in the pills on pharmacy shelves, but in the very systems meant to safeguard their health. Because when faith in medicine collapses, people don’t stop getting sick — they just stop getting help. This is more than a regulatory failure. It’s a national health emergency — and one that cannot be ignored.

References:

The Eastleigh Voice Inside Kenya’s battle against fake and unsafe medicines

Eurek Alert Curbing harmful medicines: the promise of a unified African health products regulatory system

OECD Dangerous Fakes


Decoding Elimu Thabiti: Is Kenya’s Education Truly Improved?

In April 2025, the Kenyan government did what governments often do when the heat rises — it rebranded. Out went the Competency-Based Curriculum (CBC), in came Competency-Based Education (CBE), now dubbed Elimu Thabiti — “Stable Education.” On the surface, it looked like a smart communications reset: streamline the curriculum, simplify delivery, calm public fears, and signal that Kenya’s education reform is finally maturing. But under the hood, the same unresolved problems are festering — and threatening to derail the system again. A new name hasn’t solved the deep cracks in Kenya’s education foundation: from underfunded schools and frustrated teachers, to digital inequalities and mismanaged infrastructure. The education sector is being reshaped with bold promises — but very few of the tools needed to make those promises real.

A Report by TV47 Kenya

Let’s talk numbers. While the Teachers Service Commission boasts about retooling 291,000 educators, independent research in 2025 shows two-thirds of teachers say they haven’t been adequately trained for CBE. Many still rely on the old 8-4-4 methods. Worse, over 343,000 trained teachers remain jobless while schools face a 72,000-strong staff shortage in Junior Secondary School alone. Promotion pathways are clogged, hardship allowances may be cut, and morale is low. Now layer that on top of infrastructure demands: the new “pathway model” for senior schools, launching fully in 2026, demands schools be categorized as “Triple Pathway” or “Double Pathway” — meaning massive upgrades to labs, sports halls, art studios, and digital infrastructure. And while the government talks about progress, the Auditor-General is flagging KSh 6 billion in irregular spending from previous education projects. What’s the point of planning a digital classroom if half the schools don’t even have functioning toilets?

And here’s the financial kicker: schools are still owed over KSh 64 billion in capitation arrears. As of May 2025, the promised Sh21 billion had yet to arrive. Headteachers are being fined Sh500 per project for late CBC/KJSEA submissions — even though many schools have no internet access or computers to begin with. Meanwhile, a flashy new KEAC Bill proposes AI exam grading and electronic assessment. Great on paper, but in classrooms across ASAL regions, basic digital literacy is still below 50%. While Finland’s President arrives with hope and MoUs to support Kenyan education, the shadow of the Uasin Gishu scholarship scandal still looms large. Education reform can’t run on optics alone. Kenya doesn’t need another slogan. It needs teachers who are paid and trained, capitation that arrives on time, classrooms that work — and honesty about just how deep the overhaul must go. If Elimu Thabiti is going to be more than a PR stunt, it has to fix the pipes — not just polish the tap.

References:

The Star MPs Raise Concern Over Zero Budget Allocation for KCSE, JSS Exams

The Eastleigh Voice Budget cuts jeopardise education for millions as key programmes struggle with shortfalls

The Eastleigh Voice CS Mbadi: KCSE funds frozen over misuse, but parents won’t pay

KBC Kenya, Finland sign deals to boost ties in peace, education

The Standard Kenya and Finland forge strategic partnership


Government’s Bold Move: Leasing Sugar Factories in Kenya

Kenya just handed over four of its biggest sugar factories — but kept the land. In a dramatic policy shift, the Ruto administration signed 30-year leases in May 2025 with private firms to run Nzoia, Chemelil, Muhoroni, and Sony Sugar. The goal? End decades of sugar sector chaos: collapsed factories, billions in unpaid debts, unpaid workers, and cheap imports undercutting farmers. Agriculture CS Mutahi Kagwe says this isn’t privatization — it’s “strategic leasing,” with public ownership preserved and billions in arrears cleared to give the new operators a clean start. Big names like Jaswant Rai’s West Kenya Sugar and Kibos Sugar are now in charge — and they’re expected to invest heavily. But not everyone’s cheering.

A Report by NTV Kenya

Local leaders are furious. Kisumu’s Governor Anyang’ Nyong’o is calling foul, slamming the deals as opaque, exclusionary, and a threat to community-owned land. At Chemelil and Nzoia, workers are protesting over unpaid wages, job security, and fears that private operators will trample their rights. Farmers worry about price manipulation and monopolies. And watchdogs are questioning the wisdom of the government wiping out billions in past debts — on taxpayers’ backs — without clear guarantees of public return. The Auditor General has already flagged risks to the Commodities Fund. If this feels familiar, it’s because Kenya’s SOE reform playbook hasn’t changed much in decades: bold plans, shaky execution, and the ever-present risk of insider deals dressed up as national progress.

Still — if the government gets this right — it could turn a rotting industry into a competitive, tech-upgraded, farmer-friendly economic engine. But it won’t happen without airtight oversight, crystal-clear contracts, local accountability, and a serious break from past mistakes. Leasing might be smarter than selling — but only if it comes with more transparency than politics usually allows.

References:

The Standard Nyong’o opposes the government’s plans to lease sugar mills

The Eastleigh Voice Government leases four state-owned sugar mills to private firms for 30 years

Business Daily Workers oppose Chemelil sugar factory lease plans

The Star Sugarcane farmers welcome move to lease sugar firms

All Africa Kenya: High Court Dismisses Petition Against Leasing of State-Owned Sugar Farms