KenyaOnAShoeString: Real Advice for Real Kenyans

When Mwai Kibaki swept into power in 2002 under the NARC coalition, Kenyans believed they were witnessing the end of an era — the closing of a dark chapter defined by Moi’s authoritarianism and entrenched corruption. The promise was clear: zero tolerance on corruption. The optimism was real. Kenya was ready to turn the page. And for a moment, it looked like we had. Kibaki’s administration took bold first steps — reviving key institutions, appointing reformists, and increasing transparency in public finance. But soon, familiar shadows crept back. The Anglo Leasing scandal broke, key whistleblowers were silenced, and the dream of a clean government dimmed. This is the story of a president who tried to fight corruption — and of the system that resisted, reshaped, and ultimately compromised that fight. The Reformist Promise Upon taking office, Kibaki created the Kenya Anti-Corruption Commission (KACC) and appointed respected legal mind Justice Aaron Ringera as its head. For the first time...

  "We are dressed in our best and are prepared to go down like gentlemen." — Benjamin Guggenheim, Titanic survivor testimony When the RMS Titanic began to sink into the frigid Atlantic Ocean on the night of April 14, 1912, it wasn’t only a ship that went down. What rose in its place, through the testimony of survivors and the haunting silence of the sea, was a mirror: one that showed the best and worst of humanity. Men and women made choices that revealed character beyond wealth, class, or age. Some were lauded for generations. Others, despite surviving, were socially exiled. This was more than maritime disaster. It was a moral reckoning. And yet, watching The Digital Resurrection of the Titanic , one thought struck deep: "That could never be a Kenyan." The Gentlemen Who Stayed Benjamin Guggenheim , a wealthy American industrialist, helped women and children into lifeboats before retreating below deck with his valet. He dressed in his finest, telling a steward: “Tel...

Kenyans have mastered the art of silence. We call it ‘moving on,’ but what we’re really doing is running away—from pain, from history, from accountability. We tell ourselves that forgetting is the same as healing, that ignoring problems makes them disappear. But our silence has a cost, and that cost is becoming unbearable. "Peace isn’t just the absence of war; it’s the presence of justice." Post-Election Violence: The Wound That Never Heals After every election cycle, we hold our breath. We whisper prayers for peace. But peace isn’t just the absence of war; it’s the presence of justice. And justice requires truth. The 2007/2008 post-election violence left more than 1,100 dead and over 600,000 displaced. We never really talked about it. Instead, we got a political handshake, a commission whose report was buried, and a new government that told us to ‘accept and move on.’ The perpetrators walk free. The victims still wait for justice. The same tensions simmer beneath the surface...