The widely publicised recent invasions of wildlife conservancies in Laikipia County in Kenya have often been framed as conflicts between pastoralist communities and conservationists. However, the conflicts in Laikipia and elsewhere in northern Kenya ought to be looked at as a national security issue exacerbated by historical land injustices and the pursuit of an inappropriate conservation model that relegates the true owners of the resources to the periphery.
It is instructive that the state has identified environmental degradation as constituting a threat to national security. This was highlighted in a story published in the Sunday Nation on May 7, 2017 on Kenya’s plans to expand the military. Quoting from The National Defence Policy, the reporter stated that the government had identified environmental degradation as one of the threats to Kenya’s security.
This admission is significant because for a long time the country has taken for granted fatal consequences of wanton destruction of forests, rivers, habitats, ecosystems, as well as serious erosion of biological diversity. How individual actions affect the environment appears not to preoccupy most people’s minds in the country. Collectively though, such injurious individual actions result in a situation that has far-reaching implications, not just on the well-being of the environment or inability of ecosystems to supply life-nurturing environmental resources to citizens, but also on the security of the country.
On its part, the state has kept making one policy pronouncement after another without putting in place the necessary resources and personnel to implement the policies or to whip everyone into line. For many years now, the discord between what is said in official statements and what is done by citizens, companies and the state itself has given rise to serious crises. This greatly affects the lives and livelihoods of millions of Kenyans, some of whom opt for extra-legal measures to stay alive.
Many have gone on to equate Laikipia to the Biblical Eden; “it represents a lost Eden in European settler thinking, epitomised by the writings of Kuki Gallman, which are infused with an imagined sense of entitlement to and identification with her adopted land.”
Added to this is the long-running official neglect of arid and semi-arid areas of the country. Individuals and organisations that constitute the country’s conservation fraternity have capitalised on officialdom’s disinterest by experimenting with a conservation model that is harmful to the communities there. With financial support from multilateral and bilateral donors, as well as big-bucks international NGOs, the fraternity has literary taken over and has been running not just conservation, but also security, livestock marketing and conflict resolution in a manner that greatly interferes with the sovereignty of the communities that claim ownership of the land there.
This sad state of affairs is epitomised by the fact that one organization, Northern Rangelands Trust (NRT), openly claims that it has brought into conservation a whopping 44,000 km2 of the lands in the upper Rift, north and coastal regions. The reaction to what happens there and how it affects the rights of the communities to their lands and resources, as well as how this translates into the apparent insecurity in Laikipia and elsewhere in the north, ought to be seen as social reverberations of historical land injustices and official neglect.
The historical narrative
In Moving the Maasai: A Colonial Misadventure, Lotte Hughes paints a picture of pastoralist communities disinherited from their land on two different occasions in 1904 and 1911. The British author says that between 1904 and 1905, colonial authorities forcibly moved the Maasai people from their favourite grazing grounds between Naivasha and Nakuru into two reserves in order to make way for white settlement. Laikipia was one of the reserves while the other was in the south, on the border with Tanzania. According to Hughes, this was done following the 1904 Maasai Agreement through which the community was promised that it could keep the reserved areas “so long as the Maasai as a race shall exist.” She writes that the British did not honour their promise but went on to move the Maasai again seven years later “at gunpoint from Laikipia to an extended southern Maasai reserve.” More than 20,000 people and not less than 2.5 million livestock were moved between 1911 and 1913. All this was done mainly to pave way for white settlers, although, as Hughes says, there were other extraneous reasons, including the desire by the colonial administration to concentrate the Maasai in one reserve in order to better rule over them and to impose taxes. Consequently, the Maasai lost between 50% and 70% of the land they occupied before 1904.
Since the second “move” was implemented, the Maasai have maintained that this was not an “agreement” per se as their leaders signed it under heavy duress and coercion. “This effectively rendered the first Agreement void,” writes Hughes. This supports the intermittent claims made by activists from the community that they have a legal claim over the land now occupied by the mainly white ranchers in Laikipia.
The campaign for redress for this historical injustice reached a crescendo in the early 2000s when the community, led by the defunct Osirigi NGO and people like the late Elijah Marima Sempeta, intensified calls for a return of the lost lands. The latter was a young lawyer who travelled to Britain and unearthed documentary evidence ascertaining that the leases given to the white ranchers had come to an end and that time had come for the ownership of the land to revert to the local community. Following a spirited campaign, the matter fizzled out after Sempeta was murdered outside his home in Ngong Town in circumstances that remain unexplained. However, the push appears to have borne fruit when lease periods were lowered from 999 years to 99 years in Kenya’s 2010 constitution.
Defeating the land rights campaign
The white lessees of the land in Laikipia have adopted a multi-pronged counter-campaign and have shown – in words and deeds – that they are not ready to forfeit the land. According to Hughes, many have gone on to equate Laikipia to the Biblical Eden; “it represents a lost Eden in European settler thinking, epitomised by the writings of Kuki Gallman, which are infused with an imagined sense of entitlement to and identification with her adopted land.”
In Land Deals in Kenya: The Genesis of Land Deals in Kenya and its Implication on Pastoral Livelihoods – A Case Study of Laikipia District, 2011, John Letai says that Laikipia has “profound inequalities” in land ownership, with 40.3% of the land being controlled by 48 individuals. Among the biggest landowners in Laikipia include Gallman, whose Ol Ari Nyiro ranch is said to be 100,000 acres. Other large ranches include the Ol Pejeta ranch (92,000 acres) that was once associated with Saudi billionaire arms dealer Adnan Khashoggi and the Ol Jogi ranch (67,000 acres) owned by the late French billionaire art dealer Daniel Wildenstein. But even with this kind of inequality, it has been apparent that the ranchers cannot countenance the idea of ever giving up the giant parcels of land to the original owners. Some have been offloading the land to other rich people (some of whom are foreigners) while top business and political elites in the country have also increasingly acquired land there.
The white lessees of the land in Laikipia have adopted a multi-pronged counter-campaign and have shown – in words and deeds – that they are not ready to forfeit the land.
Another approach has been to front the sprawling ranches as important wildlife conservation areas. Targeted in this approach is a powerful and moneyed audience in the West that has contributed immensely to support wildlife conservation in cash and kind. Initially, the white ranchers had not taken wildlife conservation as seriously. For a long time, many had taken to large-scale livestock keeping but later realised that they stood to gain much more by converting their properties to either mixed livestock-and-wildlife areas or to exclusive wildlife conservation zones. They appear to have been inspired by arguments put forward by people such as Dr. David Western, a former Kenya Wildlife Service director, who championed the parks-beyond-parks concept, as well as the outcome of the 2003 World Parks Congress organised by the World Conservation Union (IUCN) in Durban, South Africa. According to Dr Mordecai Ogada, a former chief executive of the Laikipia Wildlife Forum, the central theme and message coming out of the Congress was “benefits beyond boundaries”.
“The model that proposed establishment of conservancies outside protected areas … gained immediate currency and caught the eye of donors as well as statutory agencies like the Kenya Wildlife Service, which were keen to gain more habitat for wildlife and secure reservoir wildlife populations that could augment those in parks via wildlife corridors,” says Dr. Ogada.
He says that this led to a “carefully laid out and presented plan” to secure the future of wildlife in these vast lands and to get financial support from private and institutional donors.
To avoid paying taxes and to continue enjoying the largesse of global supporters of wildlife conservation, many of the Laikipia ranchers registered their conservancies as non-profit organisations. Today, Ian Craig’s Lewa Conservancy and Kuki Gallman’s Ol-Ari Nyiro Conservancy are registered as non-profit outfits. However, this is a misnomer because many of them run exclusive, high-end lodges and camps that charge tens of thousands of shillings daily to tourists. For instance, with 12 tents that can accommodate 26 guests, Lewa Safari Camp located in the Lewa Downs charges between Ksh15,500 ($155) and Ksh42,600 ($426) per night depending on the season.
The plot thickens
Getting the United Nations Education, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (UNESCO) to give world heritage status to the ranches is the third approach adopted by the ranch owners. The secret scheme to have UNESCO play ball is aimed at enabling the ranchers to maintain a lasting claim on the land and, therefore, “eternally” defeat any campaign to have it revert to the Maasai community. So far, this is a feat that only Lewa Conservancy has attained. The 60,000-acre ranch was given this status in 2013, as an extension of the Mount Kenya World Heritage Site together with the Ngare Ndare Forest, which is also in Laikipia.
However, there are those who say that the elevation of Lewa was an anomaly because according to the World Heritage Convention, the duty of ensuring the identification, protection and conservation of cultural and natural heritage sites “belongs primarily” to the state. In addition, Article 5(4) of the convention burdens states with the funding and the protection of such sites, besides coming up with laws to protect them. Further, Article 6(3) states: “Each State Party to this Convention undertakes not to take any deliberate measures which might damage directly or indirectly the cultural and natural heritage.”
Nevertheless, Lewa’s success appears to have encouraged others with huge ranches, some which were constituted through the NRT, to seek similar status for their property. According to what I found out, the ranchers commenced this in 2014 when 24 wildlife conservancies and private game ranches made applications to be included in the world database of protected areas. These include Ol Pejeta Conservancy, Segera, Solio Ranch, Ol-jogi Ranch, Kisima Farm and Ol Ari Nyiro Ranch (see: https://protectedplanet.net/ ).
“There is a rush to create a super big protected area stretching from Lewa to Solio – all of it under the cover of Word Heritage Convention,” says Njenga Kahiro, a former Project Officer with Laikipia Wildlife Forum.
If this goes through, it will mean that the conservancies and ranches will be declared of outstanding universal value and natural beauty. It is also bound to have far-reaching implications for Kenya, which is a signatory to the World Heritage Convention. Formulated in 1972, the Convention protects the world’s cultural and natural heritage. In essence, the ranchers appear to be putting forward the argument that the land is special and only its present owners can be trusted to keep it that way. But this has attracted criticism from members of the Maasai community. “This is a misplaced idea and it will receive serious challenges and resistance from human rights and indigenous people,” said Mali Ole Kaunga, the director of IMPACT, an NGO based in Laikipia County. Ole Kaunga accuses the ranch owners of “hiding behind international conventions…in order to get the Kenya government to protect them as it is obliged to by the Convention.”
Laikipia has “profound inequalities” in land ownership, with 40.3% of the land being controlled by 48 individuals.
Eustace Gitonga, the director of the Community Museums of Kenya, says that this will prevent Kenya from ever changing the use of such a vast segment of its real estate. “This will mean that Kenya cannot access any mineral wealth suspected to be in these lands.” Gitonga believes that this will also affect Kenya’s sovereign right to decide on how best to use its resources.
Other dynamics have also set in to further disenfranchise the pastoralist communities. This includes acquisition of large parcels of land by top politicians and rich people, from different ethnic groups in Kenya. Added to this is the phenomenon of absentee landlords and the resettlement of smallholders, mainly from the Kikuyu community, there. According to Letai, today, smallholder farms constitute 22.21% of the land. Many of the owners of the small farms have abandoned their parcels, as ascertained by a study done in 2013 titled The Abandoned Lands of Laikipia Land Use Options Study). A whopping 238,000 acres have been abandoned by some 85,000 titleholders, most of whom live elsewhere.
The absentee landowners, who were settled there by the first independent government under the late President Jomo Kenyatta, ended up using the land as collateral to acquire loans, mainly from the Agricultural Development Corporation. Letai says that there has been a rush to buy off the land from the absentee land owners. “Former commercial ranch managers are identifying the title holders of the absentee lands to convince them to consolidate their holdings and sell them to foreign diplomats, aid workers and even some former Zimbabwean white farmers. He adds that after purchasing the land, the latter have been fencing them which “has created tension with the Maasai and other pastoralists who have been using this land over a long period of time.
This situation is compounded by the fact that the inappropriate conservation approach and, to some extent, the goings-on in the private ranches of Laikipia, is replicated in the sprawling communally-owned lands within Laikipia and neighbouring counties. Northern Rangelands Trust has been championing the well-oiled conservation initiative, arguing that it enables communities to get revenue from conservation activities, promotes security in the north and has been facilitating the mainly pastoralist communities to put in place grazing plans that lessen their vulnerability to frequent and severe droughts occasioned by climate change. The organisation further says that it is involved in bringing more lands into wildlife conservation through the development of strong community-led institutions and that this forms the basis for investment in tourism and community development. NRT-inspired community conservancies have now spread across Laikipia, Samburu, Isiolo, Marsabit, Baringo/East Pokot, Garissa, Tana River and Lamu counties.
The largesse extended to the NRT is large and extensive to say the least. For instance, last November, the United States government channelled, through the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), some Ksh2 billion (US $20 million) in a new five-year scheme meant to expand NRT’s operations in 33 conservancies in Kenya’s coastal and northern regions. According to NRT’s website, the conservancies now cover 10.8 million acres (or 44,000km2) of the country and are spread across 11 counties. Announcing the grant, US ambassador Robert Godec said it was meant to “support the work of community rangers, conserve wildlife and fisheries, and improve livelihoods and advance women’s enterprises.”
The NRT was started in 2004 by Craig, with the initial aim of raising funds to aid the formation and running of wildlife conservancies. Its website says it supports the training of relevant communities and helps to “broker agreements between conservancies and investors.” It also says that it provides donors with “a degree of oversight and quality assurance.” Besides the US, the organisation’s activities are heavily funded by the Danish Development Agency (DANIDA), The Nature Conservancy (a US-based international NGO) and the French government’s Agence Francaise de Developpement (AFD). Other financiers include Fauna & Flora International, Zoos South Australia, Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit (GIZ of Germany), US Fish and Wildlife Service, San Diego Zoo, International Elephant Foundation, Saint Louis Zo, and Running Wild.
However, it is the massive grants from USAID and Tullow Oil, the British company that has struck oil in Turkana County, which has attracted curious interest from observers who believe that there’s more than is being said in official communication. Pundits say that NRT’s approach affects communities negatively. According to Dr Ogada, the launch of community conservancies “began the mass disenfranchisement of communities in the name of conservation, and the rest is history.”
“Conservation is a noble cause, but like all other sectors, should be properly regulated. Kenya is currently failing to do that.”
In an interview with this writer, Michael Lalampaa, an official with the Higher Education Loans Board who hails from Samburu County, said that “even when droughts occur, pastoralists cannot access part of their lands that are now set aside for wildlife conservation and which constitute the community conservancies.” Indeed, many of the NRT-inspired community conservancies visited by this writer in late December 2016 had set aside big portions of the community lands as exclusive wildlife areas (or core areas). Some of these zones have better ecological characteristics and impressive landscapes favoured by tourists. Lalampaa complains that NRT compels communities to set aside the best portions of their lands for the exclusive use of wildlife and investors subsequently lease it to set up tourist facilities.
What is interesting, as this writer found during a tour of the Kurikuri Conservancy close to Mukogondo forest, is that the NRT not only brokers the investment agreements, but has also insisted on having its employees as some of the signatories of conservancies’ bank accounts. More alarming, the community in Kurikuri is required to meet some of the costs of running the lodges, which eats deeply into the cash they get from leasing out their land and from each of the tourists who visit the conservancy.
To ensure that the operations within the conservancies have the support of relevant communities, NRT has identified and co-opted local leaders and elites who aid in persuading the pastoralists to set aside land for conservation. As a result, some of the prominent personalities within the Samburu, Borana, Maasai and Rendile communities are on the NRT’s board.
Drought part of the problem
Although the prolonged drought that ended last month is believed to have triggered the recent invasions of ranches and conservancies in Laikipia, there are claims that some of the pastoralist communities there have unwittingly locked themselves out of parts of their lands through the conservancy agreements. “Once the agreements are put in place, it becomes impossible for the herders to access pastures in the conservancies as they are confronted by armed scouts who kick them out. It is sad that at times, livestock end up dying simply because their owners cannot graze them in what used to be their lands,” says Lalampaa.
The setting aside of huge sections of community ranches (which is facilitated by the NRT) for conservation purposes has created a dilemma for the communities and is proving to worsen rather than diminish insecurity, particularly in the upper eastern and northern Kenya regions. According to media reports, the alienation of land has contributed to the hardships suffered by local pastoralists, especially during the current prolonged dry spell. Reports paint a worrisome picture of members of communities invading either the areas they had earlier set aside or other private game ranches. For instance, armed herdsmen invaded the ranch belonging to Will Jennings, a mixed race Kenyan, resulting in a shootout between members of the Rapid Deployment Unit of the Kenya Police and the rangers. Other ranches invaded recently include the Loisaba Conservancy and Sera Conservancies established by the pastoralists, the 50,000-acre Segera Ranch owned by Jochen Zeitz, a former CEO of the Puma sports brand, and the Sosian and Galmann ranches. So far, one rancher, Tristan Voorspuy, has been killed in Sosian Ranch, while Gallmann is still recovering in hospital after being shot by herders.
NRT’s security apparatus
Although the government has moved its security machinery into Laikipia, the long-running insecurity in Laikipia and other parts of the north is an indictment on its ability to pacify these areas. It is also apparent that the NRT has “filled the gap” by establishing a security apparatus that is considered one of the most controversial aspects of the organisation’s activities. On its website, the organisation says that it carries out anti-poaching operations, wildlife monitoring and that conservancy rangers are “invaluable to the Kenya Police in helping to tackle cattle rustling and road banditry.” NRT says that each conservancy has a team of uniformed rangers that are “employed by the communities and trained with support from NRT”. By 2014, there were some 645 such rangers.
Additional information posted on the organisation’s website shows that the rangers are given basic training by KWS personnel at the wildlife agency’s Manyani Training School. There, they learn “bush craft skills, as well as how to effectively gather and share intelligence, monitor wildlife and manage combat situations.” According to information posted on the website of the NGO Save the Rhino, some rangers have been given Kenya Police Reserve accreditation and “sufficient weapons handling training.” Such advanced training is done by 51 Degrees, a company associated with Batian Craig, the son of Ian Craig. Among the specifics of the training include tactical movement with weapons, ambush and anti-ambush drills, handling and effective usage of night-vision and thermal-imaging equipment and ground-to-air communications and coordination. The rangers are also taken through what is called “typical training of different operations in war situation”, as well as observation, stalking, camouflage and concealment, judging distance and map reading. NRT has also launched patrol boats for security operations in its coastal chapter, which has now benefitted from USAID’s finances.
The crisis is worsened by the pursuit of an inappropriate conservation model that has resulted in more disenfranchisement of the local people and led to rising incidences of severe drought as a result of climate change. The crisis is further exacerbated by neglect by the state and its unwillingness to stamp its authority in these areas –which has given undeserving space and say to the NRT and its foreign supporters.
“This formidable armed force is under the overall control of a CEO who is a civilian and isn’t even a citizen of this country,” said Dr. Ogada. He added that by allowing this to happen, KWS “has effectively abdicated its wildlife protection role” to the NRT.
Dr. Ogada believes that the immense foreign and private control over such a large proportion of the country’s resources and citizens calls for more overt dialogue and regulation. “Conservation is a noble cause, but like all other sectors, should be properly regulated. Kenya is currently failing to do that.” He adds that the sheer geographical, financial, cultural and political scale of this intervention calls for a lot more thought than has been given to it thus far.
It is apparent that the crisis in Laikipia and other areas in Northern Kenya is a multifaceted one that defies a simple explanation. It has its origins in historical land injustices that have not been addressed even after Kenya became independent. The crisis is worsened by the pursuit of an inappropriate conservation model that has resulted in more disenfranchisement of the local people and led to rising incidences of severe drought as a result of climate change. The crisis is further exacerbated by neglect by the state and its unwillingness to stamp its authority in these areas –which has given undeserving space and say to the NRT and its foreign supporters.
To address this crisis, all players must come together to examine, in a holistic and comprehensive manner, issues related to land ownership and use, security, economic well-being of the people, and vulnerability of the local communities to adverse effects of climate change, among other issues. The state must also pacify these areas, not merely by sending the police or members of the Kenya Defence Forces, but also by starting social and economic projects in a manner that will establish a meaningful and lasting economic footprint there.
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Of Election 2022, the EAC And Completing the Circle
With William Ruto’s ascension to the presidency, we now have a string of governments in the East African region that hold no genuine or valuable ideological position. The job is to manage the expanding exploitation of the region’s resources on behalf of foreign capital.
The basic idea behind hustling is not to change the world, but rather to game its rules so as to change one’s status within it, going from low to high. This ultimately means accepting the world as it fundamentally is.
Kenya’s new president William Ruto has demonstrated this most ably, even using it to ramp up his campaign persona during the recently concluded elections. Having started out as a ruling party hatchet man in the 1990s Moi era, he rose to become a key player in the ethno-politics of the Kenyan Rift Valley. It was the interest taken by the International Criminal Court in the 2007 post-election violence that created a marriage of convenience between himself and what was until then his nemesis: Uhuru Kenyatta, scion of an earlier hustler-founded, but now grand, family, the epitome of what Ruto had been pitched against his whole political career—the entrenched interests of a new and landed elite.
This became an opportunity to operate fully on the national stage. This last election became in part the story of his successful determination to stay there, despite the best efforts, or so it would appear, to dispose of him once the threat of ICC convictions had receded.
A problem here is that what Kenya has always desperately needed is fundamental change. Candidate Raila Odinga’s biggest handicap was his having lived a life of being half-and-half; on the one hand, he presented himself as the anti-establishment player, determined to smash this system of historical exploitation and undeserved wealth. In that respect, he was the last of the dwindling band of 1980s would-be revolutionaries that led a meandering and error-plagued voyage in search of the kind of change needed in a former European settler economy and Western anchor-state.
On the other hand, he was also a scion of an established political dynasty. In this way, he more than once made himself part of inter-factional elite schemes and plots—of which taking the endorsement of outgoing President Kenyatta against his own Deputy President candidate Ruto was arguably the latest gambit—which only served to dilute whatever claims he may have still been making to be the progressive candidate.
Despite coming from a political dynasty of his own, birthed by his father’s own long record as a contemporary, comrade and finally victim of Jomo Kenyatta, Raila has always positioned himself as an outsider seeking to enter the system in order to break it. Then candidate Ruto’s message was the same in reverse: an actual outsider who was going, not to smash the system, but to hustle his way to its topmost levels. With his ascension, or more relevantly, with the defeat of Odinga, one can say the last of the hopes and memories of a kind of change that could favour the ordinary Kenyan are dead; this victory finally cements Kenya as a place impervious to radical political change, in which a dominant oligarchic system will remain in control, no matter who wins or loses a particular election.
“There is now in place a regime of right-wing thuggery that will run this plantation for the next twenty years.” one veteran Kenyan Kenya observer, glumly wrote to me.
However, the real point here is that this can be said of the whole region. And with this development in Kenya, a circle has been closed and the country has become fully like the rest of East Africa.
The failings of the Kenyan progressive/revolutionary movements of the 1970s and 1980s (of which Raila Odinga was a very visible part), left a situation whereby change was not going to come from outside the system, leading eventually to this “hustler” culture. First by the wider civil society that joined in the post-Moi governments in pursuit of change, and then the more directly cynical exploits that have culminated in the Ruto presidency.
“There is now in place a regime of right-wing thuggery that will run this plantation for the next twenty years.”
The few but significant reforms that actually enabled the Ruto victory to be declared were ironically the only real change that the civil society movement managed to bring to the very rigid political system. So, the irony is that these came to serve Ruto in a way they never served Odinga, despite his years of struggle that helped put them in place.
Apart from the social migration of that section of anti-colonial figures who made peace with the system and agreed to form the post-colonial regimes in partnership with those Africans that had worked for the repressive colonial state to begin with, most Kenyans remained poor, landless and exploited.
In this, Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, veteran anti-colonial agitator, co-founder of the Kenya People’s Union and of course father to fifth-time losing candidate Raila, represented the first political tradition, while Jomo Kenyatta, father to the outgoing president Uhuru, famously represented the second.
This began the great dichotomy in the mainstream of Kenyan politics: between those who felt that Independence could and should mean more for the ordinary Kenyan, and those who felt that the struggle had done enough and, increasingly, it was for every citizen to make the best they could out of the new circumstances. In short, hustlers.
There were always more options. But in the politics of pragmatism, the most accessible position, least burdened of principles, usually wins.
Hence, Museveni over Nabudere in the Ugandan struggle against Obote; Garang against the void that killed him in the quest to shape a post-Arab-Apartheid Sudan; Desire Kabila over the impenetrable musings of dia Wamba during the race to remove Mobutu, and so forth.
There is always the one “who is” versus the idea of the “who might have been”. In Kenya, this has been Raila Odinga against just about every Kenyan President from Daniel arap Moi, onward. Until now.
William Ruto’s coming to power is the ultimate triumph over idealism, an ultimate mass endorsement of the idea of pragmatism over idealism in Kenyan politics. In that sense, Kenya now fully folds into the regional template of practical fixers and hustlers willing to work within the strictures historically imposed on their people, as opposed to embarking on a quest for genuine change.
This tells us one thing, that the largest and best organized-for-extraction economy in the region is now firmly in the grip of a very determined set of interchangeable oligarchs. Their mission in life will be to do what oligarchs do: get richer.
We can now look forward to the consolidation of a region-wide elite consensus regarding the purpose of power: which, put simply, is to get rich, and then richer.
I have written it before: the wealth of Congo has enriched many a Ugandan elite group. My prediction is that our region’s politics will increasingly take on the look of a region-wide joint elite conspiracy against the ordinary peoples of the countries therein. The entire East African region, and its resources, seems up for grabs. And the vast riches of the DRC will be at the epicentre.
William Ruto’s coming to power is the ultimate triumph over idealism, an ultimate mass endorsement of the idea of pragmatism over idealism in Kenyan politics.
President Ruto’s decision to immediately implement a commitment to the long-mooted idea of an East Africa “peacekeeping” force helps to confirm this suspicion. Kenya deployed a contingent of its Special Forces just days after President Ruto’s inauguration. This idea has always been curious; apart from the United Nations force (in its second form), Uganda’s military, and occasional forays from Rwanda (and “friends”), this adds a new layer of military presence in the country: not quite African Union, and not fully EAC either, as there is no joint command. But the goal is clear: a colonial-type pacification of the natives, so as to enable elite-managed foreign extraction.
To that end, apart from Rwanda’s occasional presence, the Congolese government made up of its own notoriously ambitious elites seems to present no real objection to other interventions, but the opinion of the general population is becoming increasingly different.
An ideal situation for the hungry wolves in Kampala would be for a consensus to emerge from among the regimes of the region as to how the region’s resources can be best looted in a sustainable way, under its overall leadership as the regime that has the best, deepest and longest established links with the Western corporations that are in need of them.
President Ruto publicly acclaimed President Museveni as the “father of the region”, which is certainly a step up from the usual “father of the nation” sobriquet pressed upon perennial African incumbents.
Long-time watchers of the Museveni regime will find this description of President Museveni as apt as it is worrying. On the one hand, it helps consolidate the long-held view that Uganda effectively works as the West’s anchor state for the region.
We may finally be reaching a point of harmony among the rulers, which will be good news for their cronies and those who want to loot the region, but disastrous for the ordinary people.
Such looting involves indentured labour, displacement, environmental destruction, as well as the attendant state-backed violence to ensure that this happens. Put bluntly, a regional “peacekeeping” force would simply be a modern version of Belgian King Leopold’s Force Publique and other colonial forces rolled into one, and designed to bring a concentration of arms to bear on any localised native rebellion protesting this state of affairs.
Progress is no longer the business of government. Democracy is no longer the concern, what we have is mere electoral-ism. Within the expanded East African Community region, we now have a string of governments that hold no genuine or valuable ideological position on the long-standing, long-held, often diverted and suppressed quest for a national conversation about these things. That has finally come to an end.
The job is to manage the expanding exploitation of the mineral, labour, wildlife, fertility and energy resources on behalf of incoming foreign capital. As long as one can assure them of their security, and also help fend others off, then life is fine.
Democracy is no longer the concern, what we have is mere electoral-ism.
We may therefore finally be at a point where we have a region that thinks as one, where there are finally shared goals and talk of greater regional integration for markets, labour mobility and infrastructure. Unfortunately, these goals do not mean the same thing in their mouths, as they do in the mouths of the older traditional voices of pan-Africanism.
Instead, whatever the long-term plans of corporate America and the wider West in the region, these may now move ahead more smoothly. We can make a fairly informed guess as to what the key elements of those plans will be: “conservation”; agribusiness; energy, all with a knock-on effect on planning for massive urbanization, which means corporate finance for real estate. This may create just enough career jobs to settle the small but historically influential and noisy middle class into complacency. Certainly, the domestic Kenyan banking sector has been very nimble in getting into the DRC financial market already.
The Great Lakes Region/Nile Valley should now be best understood as a single space. It is a vast network of nearly all the major fresh water bodies on the continent. We should observe the privatisation and commercialisation of water in Kenya as the nascent stage to capture the regions water resources. With the expansion of the EAC to include the DRC, the imperialist dream of a single economic space from the Indian Ocean to the Atlantic as sought by the lumpen-explorer Henry Morton Stanley, is finally realised.
In his career-long quest to always be of the greatest use to Western imperialism (and thereby guarantee his incumbency), one can be sure that President Museveni has long been positioning himself as the conductor of this grand orchestra.
While we may now have unity at last, it would not be a unity in the interest of ordinary Africans.
The Myth That Is Plastic Waste Recycling in Kenya
The quantities of recycled plastic in Kenya remain insignificant, but the long-term ecological cost of disposing plastic waste in the environment will be immeasurable.
One aspect of modern Kenyan urban living that takes getting used to are the regular, well-timed garbage collection days. Miss your day and you will have to keep the trash a week longer awaiting the next collection date when the beaten-up lorries full of garbage labour through city estates in mid-morning collecting the waste produced by city dwellers.
Should you find yourself in the central business district at around midnight, you may run into these rickety trucks collecting food waste from city restaurants, discarded cartons from offices, and empty drink cans from the city’s clubs that they ferry to the few landfills scattered around the city.
The barely roadworthy trucks are part of the more than 205 lorries working at the city’s many collection points in a hectic bid to keep Nairobi County hygienic. So profitable is the waste collection business that private contractors and cartels have infiltrated the trade.
In Nairobi alone, the county’s garbage collection service is complemented by nearly 150 private sector waste operators who also serve this city of over 4 million residents. Private investments have done a lot but not nearly enough to address the garbage crisis that plagues Kenya’s towns and cities.
Kenya’s urban households produce the bulk of the country’s solid waste, including a major share of the estimated 24 million plastic bags that are used and discarded every month. A significant portion of the plastic waste ends up in dumpsites alongside scrap metal, paper materials, glassware, and medical and toxic waste. Plastic waste constitutes a significant portion of this trash, and poses the biggest challenge to solid waste management in Kenya.
According to the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN), 73 per cent of all plastic waste generated in Kenya goes uncollected. The National Environment Management Authority (NEMA) reports that between 2 and 8 per cent of the plastic waste is recycled while the rest is disposed of at dumpsites such as Dandora and Ruai in Nairobi, Kachok in Kisumu, and Kibarani at the coast. In Mombasa alone, some 3.7 kilogrammes of per capita plastic waste end up in the ocean, contributing to the 1,300 billion pieces of plastic that find their way into the Indian Ocean every year. Experts estimate that there will be more plastic than fish species in all the oceans globally by 2025.
Kenya banned plastic carrier bags in 2017, at the same time that the United Nations Environment Programme was launching the Clean Seas campaign to reduce marine litter. From June 2020, visitors entering game reserves, forests, beaches, protected areas and conservancies are no longer allowed to carry plastic water bottles, cups, cutlery, plates, drinking straws, and packaging within the protected areas.
On the production end, there are industry-led plastics initiatives such as the Kenya Plastic Action Plan and the creation of the Kenya Extended Producer Responsibility Organization (KEPRO), whose mandate is to ensure that plastics are mapped, ferried, sorted, and where possible, put back into circulation. Given the low garbage collection rates, and the even lower sorting rates, recycling has been misleadingly touted as the key to managing plastic waste.
For context, the cumulative global plastic waste produced since 1950 is estimated at 8.3 billion tonnes — half of which was produced in the last 13 years alone — at an average of 300 million tonnes annually.
In Kenya recycling doesn’t work
Recycling has its limitations. Despite being cited as a major solution to the problem of plastic waste, a solution that has been taken up by 34 of the 54 African states, numerous reports have proven that it costs more to recycle than to dispose of the waste. That of course begs the question: costlier for whom?
While disposing plastic is cheaper than recycling, the long-term ecological cost to Kenyans living close to landfills and downstream is provably much higher. Kenyan plastic manufacturers are in the business for profit and, for the most part, recycling does not offer them value for money.
According to Kenya’s PET plastic industry’s joint self-regulation effort, once plastic waste enters the recycling conveyer, it is assembled and packed into bales that are sold as industrial goods and sent to the dozens of recycling plants around the country to be sorted by quality, industrial variety, texture and colour. The waste is then shredded, sanitized, melted down, and moulded into smaller, smoother plastic pellets.
These pellets, known as nurdles, are bought and once again melted down and fashioned into other plastic products, ready for re-use by industries. This form of recycling is the optimal pathway for plastic waste, but it rarely is feasible. Recycling plastic waste is a lengthy and costly process that is avoided by many plastic producers.
To put it in context, less than 45 per cent of Nairobi’s overall waste is recycled, most of it undergoing what is referred to as down-cycling, open recycling, or cascaded recycling.
Cascaded recycling refers to the process of using recycled plastic waste to make an item of a lower quality than the original product. These items typically have reduced recycling potential, which destines them for the landfill after use. Models of cascaded recycling in Kenya’s informal settlements therefore turn the triangular recycling loop into a one-way direction to an incinerator or landfill.
Recycling plastic waste is a lengthy and costly process that is avoided by many plastic producers.
Global research led by plastics expert Dr Roland Geyer claims that only 9 per cent of all the plastic waste ever produced has been recycled. Kenya’s cascaded recycling rates are harder to quantify but an authoritative plastics report states that only 14 per cent of global plastic packaging waste was collected for recycling in 2013. Only 8 per cent of that amount was down-cycled, of which 4 per cent atrophied during the process while only 2 per cent was recycled into a product of equal or higher value.
Even locally, recycling plastic is a costly process and sorting it, many experts assert, is unfeasible, which means that there is no way out when dealing with plastic waste other than banning the production and use of plastics.
Kenya and the global dumping of plastic waste
The non-feasibility of recycling plastic waste has been an open secret among plastics industry insiders since as far back as the 1970s. As early as 1973, senior executives of plastics multinationals had already ruled out plastic waste recycling on a large scale. Instead, these multinationals paid for misleading big-budget advertisements extolling the virtues of plastic products, and lying about the ease with which plastics could be recycled for other uses, while also placing the responsibility of recycling or disposing plastic waste on the end-user. However, the mounds of plastic waste that are now an eyesore in many urban areas belie the claim that recycling is the solution.
Old industry memos and library archives show that as far back as the mid-1980s Kenyan scholars like Kamau Hezron Mwangi had begun to call for a serious look into the efficacy of recycling while, in the mid-1990s, researcher Dr J.N. Muthotho and his team demanded for greater research across specific plastic products supply chains. The growing concerns linked to plastic products, their quality, disposability and the economics of the industry paint an image of an industry that has always been well aware of the problems caused by plastic waste but has lacked the motivation to address the issue. In an increasingly consumerist society, plastic has continued to be affordable, readily available, cheap, convenient, and yet very difficult to dispose of.
Ending Kenya’s relationship with plastic
A radical behavioural shift by producers, packaging firms and end-users is required in order to rid the Kenyan environment of plastic pollution. The ban on plastic carrier bags has had an estimated 80 per cent efficacy rate. Industry insiders including manufacturers and distributors now say that the ban should be extended to disposable tableware, plastic straws, plates and cutlery.
The mounds of plastic waste that are now an eyesore in many urban areas belie the claim that recycling is the solution.
This, the stakeholders say, will reduce the amount of single-use plastic in landfills, reduce waste, minimize animal deaths, improve human safety, and save our water systems. However, a concerted effort is needed to ban single-use plastic bottles, plastic straws, and plastic packaging and replace them with organic, biodegradable plastic (BDP) alternatives.
Most BDP products in the Kenyan market are made of thermoplastic starch that uses a polyester similar in material strength to plastic. Currently there is only one manufacturer in the country. However, researchers are coming closer to finding organic alternatives to plastics.
Reimagining a post-plastic country
In Kenya, the stakeholders have to begin to reimagine new models of ridding the country of plastic waste in the everyday life and habits of Kenyan citizens. Nairobi and its environs alone is estimated to produce between 2,400 and 3,000 tonnes of general waste every single day, an estimated 20 per cent of which is plastic waste.
“People don’t want to stop using plastic. It is cheap and easy to use so I understand why people like [it]”, says Kinuthia, an unlicensed collector in Uthiru.
A consumer culture that creates an ever-increasing demand and use of plastic products ought to be overhauled, reimagined, and refashioned.
Even within economic circles, the focus on GDP as a measure of economic progress while ignoring the social, ecological and cultural impacts is increasingly frowned upon. As far back as the late 1980s, the World Bank President Barber Conable recognised that the ecological cost of economic production has to be accounted for. “Current calculations ignore the degradation of the natural-resource base and view the sales of nonrenewable resources entirely as income . . . A better way must be found.” he wrote.
Kenya’s plastic producers and importers have to begin to consider how to shift the society away from plastic products and integrate the alternatives in the marketplace. Kenyans have the opportunity to have a national conversation around local plastic producers and importers, if we are to work effectively towards phasing out all plastic products sold in the market.
With imports valued at an estimated US$883 million, Kenya’s plastics sector has a critical duty to phase out plastic products so as to, at the very least, ensure that the end-user does not have to choose between affordability, disposability, and sustainability of the packaging when making a purchasing decision.
The plastic waste crisis calls for Kenyans to design products with their life cycle and their end in mind at the outset. Therefore, designing products with their utility and disposal in mind is critical. For example, utilizing snap-together parts in appliances minimizes the use of screws, making the end product easier to disassemble, recover, and recycle at the end. This evolution in design proactively shapes the journey of a product in order to ensure that as much material as possible is recycled back into the production conveyer.
Even within economic circles, the focus on GDP as a measure of economic progress while ignoring the social, ecological and cultural impacts is increasingly frowned upon.
On 24 March 2021, Kenya’s Centre for Environment Justice and Development (CEJD) held a consultative forum with 24 grassroots Civil Society Organisations in the waste management sector with support from Break Free From Plastic. The members used the existing legislative framework that bans single-use plastic carrier bags in the country to launch the CSOs for Zero Plastics in Kenya network that integrates the input of stakeholders in the affected sectors. Still, this push by CSOs towards a wider ban seems to have created a policy tension between the National Environment Management Authority (NEMA) and multi-nationals that rely on plastic products for packaging.
In 2018, NEMA tried to extend the ban on plastic carrier bags to single-use plastic containers such as bottles made of PET. However, the companies involved in the production of PET products instead proposed a self-regulated, industry-led solution under PETCO.
Despite NEMA’s pledge in 2018 to make PETCO membership mandatory for all plastic industry players, its membership remains voluntary. This lapse has slowed the acceptance of membership by stakeholders and by industry players and minimized compliance. Kenya currently has eight PET converters, but only one of them is a PETCO member. Moreover, an estimated 900 bottling plants use PET containers but only eight (1 per cent) are members of PETCO.
The future of a post-plastic Kenya requires consolidation of existing industry efforts, ramping up scientific research on alternatives, a shift in consumer behaviour and robust incremental policies in enforcing the bans and restrictions. Only then can Kenya secure its ecology, manage the diverse interests of the stakeholders involved and still manage its ecological health with posterity in mind.
Microplastics: the Destruction of Marine Life and the Blue Economy
Even as Kenya’s land-based resources continue to shrink because of a rapidly growing population, microplastic pollution of Kenya’s Indian Ocean is putting in jeopardy the country’s maritime resources.
Five scientists, Joyce Kerubo, John M. Onyari and Agnes Muthumbi from the University of Nairobi, Deborah Robertson-Andersson from the University of Kwa Zulu Natal, and Edward Ndirui Kimani from the Kenya Marine and Fisheries Research Institute (KMFRI), undertook a research study last year that returned a harsh verdict of a high presence of microplastics (MPs) in Kenya’s Indian Ocean.
MPs are plastic pellets, fragments, and fibres that enter the environment and are less than 5mm in dimension. The primary sources of MPs are vehicle tyres, synthetic textiles, paints, personal care products, and plastic products that have disintegrated into tiny particles because of environmental turbulence.
The study by the five scientists, Microplastic Polymers in Surface Waters and Sediments in the Creeks along the Kenya Coast, Western Indian Ocean (WIO), identified four polymer types in Kenya’s Indian Ocean. High-density polythene is the most abundant at 38.3 per cent, followed by polypropylene (34.6 per cent), low-density polythene (27.1 per cent), and medium density polythene (17.1 per cent). The research findings were published in the European Journal of Sustainable Development Research on 18 October 2021.
The concentration of MPs in the surface waters along the Kenyan coastline was higher compared to other parts of the world, the study warned. The findings of the study also confirmed those of previous studies on the presence of MPs in Kenya’s Indian Ocean.
The scientists also cautioned that the documented information on the specific polymeric composition of these particles in seawater and in the sediments along the Kenyan coast was insufficient. The findings, the study offered, demonstrated the extent of exposure to MPs in Kenya’s ocean ecosystems, therefore justifying policy intervention in the management and disposal of plastic waste, and the protection of the ocean’s rich biodiversity for sustainable development.
It drew testing samples from three creeks: Tudor and Port Reitz in Mombasa County and Mida in Kilifi County. Tudor Creek covers an area of approximately 20 square kilometres and is fed by two seasonal rivers—Kombeni and Tsalu—that originate around Mariakani, about 32 kilometres northwest of Mombasa. The two seasonal rivers collect runoff containing plastic and other waste from the mainland and discharge it into the creek.
Surrounding Tudor creek are several densely populated informal settlements that include Mishomoroni and Mikindani that may add MPs to the ocean. According to the study findings, the majority of the MPs were fibrous materials from textiles and ropes, probably from wastewater from washing clothes and from fishing activities.
Other key facilities that could contribute to the pollution include shipping activities at the Port of Mombasa, meat processing at Kenya Meat Commission (KMC), Coast General Hospital, Container Freight Stations (CFSs) and Kipevu Power Station. Before it was rehabilitated, Mombasa County Government dumped a lot of waste at Kibarani, near the two creeks and just next to the ocean.
Tudor Creek recorded the highest pollution, also as a result of rain runoff from Kongowea market and Muoroto slums, and Mikindani sewage effluent. Moreover, according to the study, which could, however, not determine the proportions, many industries on Mombasa Island release their effluent into the sea, increasing MPs in sediments.
Mida Creek was used as a control in the study as it does not have river inflows. In addition, the creek is in a marine reserve that forms part of the Watamu Marine National Park and Reserve. However, MPs from different polymers were found in sediment and surface water samples from all the sites—including Mida Creek which is within Watamu National Marine Reserve—which the researchers had thought to be safe from pollution by industrial effluent, sewage disposal, and fishing activities.
Many industries on Mombasa Island release their effluent into the sea, increasing MPs in sediments.
The study attributed the pollution at Mida Creek to high tourism activities, boat and dhow fishing activities, densely populated villages such as Dabaso, Ngala, and Kirepwe and the mangrove vegetation cover of tall trees that binds soil particles thus favouring the accumulation of MPs.
According to a United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) report released in March 2019, plastic—which makes up a sizable proportion of marine pollution—can now be found in all the world’s oceans, but concentrations are thought to be highest in coastal areas and reef environments where the vast majority of this litter originates from land-based sources.
In Kenya, daily plastic consumption is estimated at 0.3 Kilograms per person. In 2018, Kenya imported between 45,000 and 57,000 metric tonnes of plastic.
Earlier in 2020, KMFRI had carried out its own study—Microplastics Pollution in Coastal Nearshore Surface Waters in Vanga, Mombasa, Malindi and Lamu, Kenya—that painted an even gloomier picture of MP pollution.
The four sampling locations represented the South coast, Mombasa and the North coast of Kenya’s coastal nearshore waters, and looked into considering fishing, recreation, and industrial activities, as well as the municipal effluent that finds its way into these target areas.
The objective of the study was to assess the abundance MPs and their composition in Kenya’s coastal near-shore waters during the two rainy seasons at the Kenyan coast: the north-east monsoon which runs between November and March, and the south-east monsoon which runs from April to October.
The results showed a widely varied distribution of MPs between the two seasons, with the overall highest concentrations occurring during the south-east monsoon when surface runoff from rainwater and from effluent from the major towns is high.
As confirmed in other research studies, the concentrations recorded by KMFRI, were quite high compared to other parts of the world. This provided baseline data for MPs, showing that population, anthropogenic activities and seasonal variations a play key role in influencing pollution by MPs.
Total MP concentrations in all the study areas during the north-east and the south-east monsoon seasons ranged between 83 MPs/m³ and 8266 MPs/m³ and between 126 MPs/m³ and 12,256 MPs/m³ respectively, with a mean of 3228 MPs/m³. The highest microplastic levels were found in Mombasa at 12,256 MPs/m³ during the south-east monsoon season, where runoff and effluent due to heavy rains are thought to be the primary source. The next highest levels were found in Malindi, occurring during the south-east monsoon season, because of inflows from River Sabaki.
Boat activities and tourism during the north-east monsoon season and runoff from the town during the south-east monsoon season mostly affected Lamu, while fishing activities, as well and runoff from the town, could be responsible for the abundance of MPs recorded in Vanga.
Solid waste management remains an enormous challenge in coastal towns, with Mombasa County facing the biggest challenge due to a burgeoning population. Although most of the solid waste generated in the county is organic—largely from households, hotels, restaurants and agricultural produce markets, the largest being Kongowea and Marikiti—plastic takes up a significant share.
In its County Sessional Paper No 01 of 2019, Mombasa County estimated daily waste production at 2,200 tons, 68 per cent of which is organic. Approximately 18 per cent of this waste is plastics, cardboard, paper and metals.
Other inorganic waste such as e-waste, construction waste and junk makes up an estimated 14 per cent of the waste generated. Public and private health facilities generate an estimated 2 to 3 tonnes of biomedical waste daily.
Solid waste management remains an enormous challenge in coastal towns, with Mombasa County facing the biggest challenge due to a burgeoning population.
Most of the solid waste generated is disposed in undesignated open grounds—in VOK, Kwa Karama, Kadongo, Junda, Saratoga, and Mcheleni. It is disposed in the same form as it is generated without being recycled or reused. Disposal of solid waste in the open has continuously had a negative environmental health impact through the contamination of water sources.
Moreover, with the limited investment in solid waste recycling and recovery systems, disposal methods in the county have been a contributor to public nuisance.
There are two designated dumpsites, namely Mwakirunge in Kisauni and Shonda in Likoni. However, these dumpsites are poorly managed and do not respect the prescribed environmental health standards while Mombasa County government’s budgetary allocation for solid waste management is not sufficient to meet the desired results.
MPs are harmful to human health, experts say. The ingestion of MPs by species at the base of the food web causes human food safety concerns, as little is known about their effects on the food that finally lands on our menu.
The minuscule size of MPs renders them invisible to filter-feeding fauna, leading to unintentional ingestion. In a study published in December 2020 in the Africa Journal of Marine Science, W. Awuor, Agnes Muthumbi and Deborah Robertson-Andersson confirmed the presence of MPs in marine life. The study investigated MPs in oysters and in three species of brachyuran crabs.
They did sampling in eight stations distributed between three sites—Tudor, Port Reitz and Mida Creek—in January and February 2018, during low spring tide. The sample comprised 206 crabs and 70 oysters.
The study identified MP fibres of different colours—red, yellow, black, pink, orange, purple, green, blue—as well as colourless ones. Colourless fibres were the most prevalent, comprising at least 60 per cent of the total MPs. The mean lengths of the MP fibres were between 0.1 and 4.2 mm.
The study exposes MP pollution along the Kenyan coast and its uptake by marine fauna, and thus strengthens the case for better control of plastic waste in the ocean. “Marine plastic litter pollution is already affecting over 800 marine species through ingestion, entanglement and habitat change,” said the head of UN Environment’s coral reef unit, Jerker Tamelander, in 2019.
“Waste continues to leak from land, and coral reefs are on the receiving end. They also trap a lot of fishing gear and plastic lost from aquaculture. With the effects of climate change on coral reef ecosystems already significant, the additional threat of plastics must be taken seriously.”
According to UNEP, there remains a significant lack of knowledge on the true impact of plastics on the reef environment, including the level of concentrations of MPs across coral reef eco-regions in order to understand the scale of the issue in a standardised manner.
“Marine plastic litter pollution is already affecting over 800 marine species through ingestion, entanglement and habitat change.”
Concerns about ocean pollution have been raised at a time when the country is looking at the Blue Economy as the country’s next economic growth frontier. In effect, Kenya’s land-based resources have been shrinking because of a rapidly growing population and it is therefore prudent for the government to shift the focus to the country’s ocean resources spread over an area of 245,000 km², or 42 per cent of the country’s total land mass.
Kenya has from the outset not been keen on growing the maritime sector. Even Kenya’s first independence economic blueprint, African Socialism and its Application to Planning in Kenya, published in 1965, failed to anchor the Blue Economy in the country’s economic growth agenda, despite its significant role in transporting 95 per cent of the country’s global transactions.
The Western Indian Ocean has resources worth more than KSh2.2 trillion in annual outputs, with Kenya’s share standing at about 20 per cent of this figure. The marine fishing sub-sector alone had an annual fish potential of 350,000 metric tonnes worth KSh90 billion in 2013. However, the region only yielded a paltry 9,134 metric tonnes worth KSh2.3 billion during that year.
In 2018, the then Agriculture Cabinet Secretary, Mwangi Kiunjuri, said that by failing to fully exploit the Blue Economy, Kenya was losing over Sh440 billion annually. But if the opportunities offered by the Blue Economy are to be exploited, a policy intervention in the management and disposal of plastic waste is urgently required to protect the ocean’s rich biodiversity for sustainable development.
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