Recently, I boarded a Nissan matatu on my way to Sigona Golf Club, off Nairobi-Nakuru Highway, 17km from the city centre. Once we hit the highway, the conductor started collecting his dues. Soon an argument arose between the conductor and five of the 14 passengers: was the fare Sh50 or Sh70? The conductor insisted the fare was KSh70, the five passengers said they had been told by the freelance touts at the terminus the fare was KSh50, and therefore, they were paying not a penny more.
The back and forth shouting match went on until we reached the Shell Petrol Station, one kilometre up from Gitaru bus stop. At the petrol station, that argument continued for 20 minutes – the five passengers were adamant that they were being ripped off, the conductor retorted he was not in the business of philanthropy: The conductor gave them an ultimatum: They either pay him the full amount or the driver reports them to the police at Kikuyu Police Station.
They dared him to do so whereupon the driver took us straight to the police station. Had I alighted at the petrol station, I could have walked to the 500m to Club. At the police station, the cops were gleeful they would have some “culprits” to manhandle and extort from. The five passengers were bundled out and locked in the cells. As the matatu turned to take us to our respective destinations – the end destination was Kiambaa another four kilometres from Sigona Club – a more sober debate among the remaining nine passengers dominated the talk. Was it really fair to have let the five be locked up at the police station for lacking a mere Sh20 each? The passengers were unanimous it is highly unlikely they were bluffing: nobody in his right senses would want to spend time in a Kenyan police cell, just because a matatu guy was cheating them off such a small sum.
Because I was seated in front with the driver, I asked him why they had taken the drastic step,. “Boss, business has been very bad, very bad,” he said solemnly. “The matatu owner has been breathing on our neck because we have not been meeting his targets. Because matatu crews already have a bad name, the proprietor doesn’t believe us when we tell him business is bad: he thinks we are stealing from him. There are days we have not paid ourselves, just to make sure we deposit his full day’s collection.” This was one of those days that if they did not do their math wisely, they would go home without pay. “It is those pennies collectively that take care of the larger currency notes. Can you for a moment ponder, how much money we would be losing if every trip we forewent Sh100, just because some people cannot pay the full amount?”
Discussion in the matatu turned to how life had become harder: “It is very possible the five passengers did not have the extra Sh20 and, if they did, it had been pre-budgeted,” said one passenger. “Following the recent heavy rains, sukuma wiki (kale) has become very cheap. With Sh20, you could buy enough for supper to be eaten with ugali and live for another day. Today, there is no such thing as little money. Every coin counts,” he summed the discussion. The passengers all agreed that money had taken to hiding and murmured to themselves in Kikuyu about the irony of how, even after voting for Uhuru Kenyatta twice, life had become twice as hard. “No tukeyumeria kweli na mathina niguo maingehire?” (Will we ever make it and the way our problems seem to multiply?).
Today, there is no such thing as little money. Every coin counts
The passengers talked off how people had become more and more uncaring and wicked and moaned loudly that if only Kenyans were a little more mindful of each other, life would be a lot better. I suspected they were shying away from candidly and publicly discussing the elephant in the matatu, which if they did, would lead them to pinpointing why they truly were facing economic hard times: bad political choices, propelled by a vicious ethnic entrapment that they had over time been politically socialized to believe was their fate.
The trip back after my meeting was even more revealing. I crossed the highway to catch a matatu back to the city centre. The Nissan matatu I took had two other passengers. It had come from Kiambaa. Between Kiambaa and Sigona, there is one major terminus – Zambezi. It was edging towards 2.00pm and if the matatu did not secure enough passengers at Zambezi, it would not augur well. From Kiambaa to the city centre, there are 11 major stops along the highway: Kiambaa, Zambezi, Gitaru, Muthiga, Kinoo, 87, Uthiru, Kangemi, Agriculture (adjacent to the Kenya Agricultural & Livestock Research Organization), Safaricom and Westlands. By the time we reached Agriculture stop, the matatu had not added a single passenger.
The driver was clearly agitated: “Oo niguo tukuruta wira?” he groaned. “Is this how we are going to get the job done?” The driver said the whole of this year, his matatu business had been hard hit by a lack of travellers. “Why weren’t people travelling? It is not as if they had relocated,” he mused aloud. At the Agriculture stop, a few passengers boarded, paying Sh20 to the city centre. “These people cannot even afford to pay Sh30?” lamented the driver. Usually the fare, especially at the onset of the rush hour, would be up to Sh40.
After alighting at the terminus on Kilome Road in downtown Nairobi, I looked for a freelance tout to explain to me the oscillating dynamics of matatu fares for people going to Kiambaa and Limuru. “During off-peak hours, it is normal practice for matatus, big or small, to charge Sh50,” said Davy. It is understood that off-peak hours are from 9.30 am–3.00pm and from 8.30pm–10.00pm. “The fare for peak hours ranges from Sh70 to even Sh100 when there is a downpour.” At the moment, the matatus were asking for Sh80. Davy told me an interesting story: “The passengers have learnt how to play the waiting game with matatus. Most of the menfolk would rather go home after 8.30pm, when the fares have substantially dropped, even if it’s by Sh10.”
Davy said the matatu owners have been itching to increase the fares since the beginning of the year, but they sense rebellion from the passengers. “Already they have surreptitiously increased the Kiambaa fare by KSh10 to KSh80 and the people have been grumbling quietly about the increase, which they have been made to believe is temporarily.” According to Davy, the matatu owners really want to hike the fares, but they do not know how to without raising a commotion among the people. When I asked what was necessitating this urge, he blamed operating costs and low business trends over the previous last eight months. “The business class had hoped that the [9 March] handshake between President Uhuru Kenyatta and Raila Odinga, would work magic, return the business climate back to normal, but business had stagnated,” said Davy. A freelance tout for close to 10 years, Davy told me he had worked in the matatu industry long enough to know when people had surplus money in their pockets. “People are broke, their disposable income has dwindled, so they are not travelling as frequently. The cost of living has also certainly gone up,” he said.” People today are budgeting to the last shilling.”
“The business class had hoped that the [9 March] handshake between President Uhuru Kenyatta and Raila Odinga, would work magic, return the business climate back to normal, but business had stagnated.”
I had gone to Sigona to meet a petroleum products’ magnate who asked not to be named. “Business is tough my friend,” said the tycoon. “The first half of this year, we’ve have not done any meaningful business and so, the profit margins have been dwindling. The increase in the fuel levy in the budget was not helpful: Business has become even harder – and the profit margins have become slimmer. This is a volume business; if you don’t move volumes, you’re not doing any good business.” He said that bureaucrats at the Ministry of Energy were not making life for oil businessmen any easier when they went to renew their import licenses, among other things. “They’ve been unrelenting and squeezing us for even heftier bribes which, as you know, run into in the millions.” Life for the ordinary mwananchi was about to get even tougher as they passed on the costs, he hinted.
Already, he could tell the people were experiencing hard economic times. “The vehicular movement in Nairobi has certainly reduced. There are less traffic jams, because many people are leaving their vehicles behind, parked in their compounds, only using them when it is very necessary. I have been long enough in this oil business and understand the patterns of fuel consumption vis-à-vis motor vehicle movements.” The businessman, apart from distributing petroleum products in bulk across the East and Central African region, also owns, in partnership with others, several petrol stations across the country and in neighboring Uganda. “Fuel usage in Kenya is at its lowest. People are facing economic hard times.”
To fully comprehend the impact of what the oil tycoon was saying, I looked for my matatu crew friends to explain how the fuel increase would affect their businesses and customers. “Diesel was increased by six shillings per litre, from Sh98 to Sh104,” said my tout friend. “For sure, as night follows day, we will increase the fares – all the matatus Saccos in Nairobi have met and agreed. It is just a matter of time. We’ve have no choice but to do that. Whether people resist or not, will they walk to work?”
The matatu crew friends said, business had become tougher: “It is as if people have migrated. Since the beginning of the year, people have not been moving around as much, so we had to find a way of increasing the fares, but quietly. If, say, we used to charge Sh30 off peak hours, we increased it to Sh50. Likewise, if during peak hours the fare was Sh70, we increased it to Sh80. We knew people would be up in arms, if we just raised the fares formally and directly and publicly.” The clarification somehow explained the tiff between the conductor and the unrelenting passengers, who could not part with their Sh20.
“For sure, as night follows day, we will increase the fares – all the matatus Saccos in Nairobi have met and agreed. It is just a matter of time. We’ve have no choice but to do that. Whether people resist or not, will they walk to work?”
Budgeting to the shilling, as Davy the tout told me, were the key words. Because it is not only the folks who use matatus and live in less privileged neighbourhoods that are currently feeling the pinch, in money matters. A Runda housewife who buys all her green groceries at City Park Market, opposite the Aga Khan Hospital in Parklands area, told me how for the first time she had to write down her shopping list of all the vegetables she needed. “When I unleashed list the next time I went to the market, carefully picking what I wanted and not just throwing things in the basket, my fruits and vegetables vendors asked me: “Nikii thiku ici mutaragura indo? Mwaga kugura, murenda tucitware ku?” (Why are you people not spending as much? If you don’t buy these goods, where do you expect us to take them?)
Her husband, a real estate magnate, had told her she needed to curb her free spending mania. “So, I have also taken to writing a list when I’m shopping at my favourite supermarket; Chandarana. Do you remember how I used to just shop, throwing anything and everything in the trolley? My budget has now been drastically trimmed and I must account for every penny spent. Kweli (truly) times are hard, that it is me, daughter of Mwaniki, who has taken to writing a shopping list.” She said her hubby had told her, money had become scarce and the country had yet to achieve political equilibrium. “I think he has decided to hoard the money, until such a time, there will be money in the economy.”
“Nikii thiku ici mutaragura indo? Mwaga kugura, murenda tucitware ku?” (Why are you people not spending as much? If you don’t buy these goods, where do you expect us to take them?)
If the posh people, like my friend from Runda estate, were scaling down on their spending, what about the rank and file? I decided to pay a visit to Githurai Market, one of the busiest markets in Nairobi. Githurai Market is 10km from Nairobi’s central business district, off the Thika Superhighway. It has one of the widest catchment areas that goes all the way to Thika town (30km from Githurai) and its environs, apart from its Nairobi area shoppers.
The market, which is completely controlled by the Githurai chapter of the Nairobi Business community aka Mungiki, receives truckloads of fresh produce from as far as Tanzania and eastern Uganda. I was going to meet Susan Mweru, a fruit seller, who has been transporting oranges and tangerines from Michugwani and Mwanza in Tanzania to Githurai Market for the last five years. “We are reeling from very tough economic hard times, there is no business…‘aahh wira we thi muno’ (business is really low),” she moaned.
“In the best of times, I would offload a 12-ton truck of top-class oranges from Tanga, home of sweetest oranges in East Africa, in two days flat and I would be on my way back to Tanga to bring more oranges.” She told me the oranges would be snapped up by retail fruit sellers from as far as Makongeni in Thika town, and as near as Kasarani, Mwiki, Roysambu, and Ngara market, which is just 7km from Githurai, in Nairobi.
She would alternative her travels between Tanga and Ukerewe, the largest island on Lake Victoria, where the juicy fruits much loved by Nairobi’s well-to-do are grown.“Itonga cia Garden Estate, Kahawa Sukari, Kahawa Wendani na Juja mokaga kugura matunda na waru guku Githurai thoko.” (The rich people of Garden Estate, Roysambu, Kahawa Sukari, Kahawa Wendani and Juja, come to buy their fruits and potatoes at Githurai Market.)
However, when I went to see her, she had not travelled for the third consecutive week. “Even these rich people, they are not spending: The consignment I brought in three weeks ago is still with me – the fruits have been moving at a snail’s pace. Nikii kiuru? Ndiramenya kurathie atia.” (What’s wrong? I don’t understand what’s going on.)
Mweru introduced me to her colleague, Muthoni, in the market, who majorly deals in potatoes, some of which come from as far as Moshi, whose rich and fertile red soil is akin to that of Kiambu County. She is one of the biggest potatoes sellers in the market. “Before things become bad, I’d move up to six sacks of potatoes daily, and you know how they pack those sacks – nearly half of the potatoes are packed outside the sack itself,” said Muthoni, sitting on one the potato sacks. “Today if I sell two sacks in a day, I count myself lucky…nikuru muno” (the situation is very bad).
The women told me they had hoped the national budget read in June would somehow alleviate the situation – it was hard for me to understand their ubiquitous optimism – but said their hopes had been dampened by the tax increases on petroleum and paraffin products. “You know if the government increases fuel, it negatively affects everything else.”
“Life is about to become even harder for the ordinary folk,” says Joy Ndubai, a tax expert with Oxfam. “The Finance Bill 2018, which proposes to hike fuel and kerosene will impact on other mwananchi necessities such as electricity, food and transport. The Bill intends to do away with indirect taxes, that is zero-rated and excise duty taxes. Take it from me, if that happens, the price of unga Kenyan (staple food), will shoot up and matatu fares will increase manifold and life will become really hard for Kenyans. Perhaps the Unga Revolution squad should start regrouping for foodstuff protests in the coming days,” said Ndubai tongue-in-cheek. The Unga Revolution was a civil society initiative basically driven by Bunge la Mwananchi (People’s Parliament) members, who, in 2017, loudly agitated for reduction of price of maize flour, which had skyrocketed and was out of reach of the ordinary Kenyan.
Ndubai says the government wants to get rid of Value Added Tax (VAT) rebates or refunds that it gives manufacturers. Indirect taxes such as VAT on consumable goods such as, bread, milk and sugar, are hidden in the prices and in order for the government to cushion manufacturers, it encouraged them to reclaim the 16 per cent tax rebates from its exchequer. This is what is referred to as zero-rating. “What it will mean now is that the government will remove the zero-rating and the manufacturers will be exempt from claiming any tax relief. Sounds good on paper? What this means is that the consumer will have to bear the burden of increased taxes on everyday commodities.”
One of the most common expenditure by wananchi that will be hard hit is electric power. “The cost of electricity is certain to go up, because of the intended increase of fuel levy. This is because we still rely on diesel engines,” said Ndubai. “Manufacturers had been given a 30 per cent allowance on electricity. Electricity was among the expenditures that manufacturers count, at 100 per cent, when deducting their profits [for tax purposes]. So now, what this means is that the manufacturers will add 30 per cent over and above, to their respective expenditures. Guess who the added 30 per cent will be pushed to? The mwananchi.” It was as if the national budget was written by the Kenya Association of Manufacturers mandarins, observed Ndubai. “There isn’t anything pro-poor in that budget, the budget favours the manufacturers and the big boys all the way. Majority of Kenyans are too bamboozled by real big, impossible numbers, trillions of shillings, to really take time to understand” the implications of the budget.
“What it will mean now is that the government will remove the zero-rating and the manufacturers will be exempt from claiming any tax relief. Sounds good on paper? What this means is that the consumer will have to bear the burden of increased taxes on everyday commodities.”
The tax expert said the Kenyan people need to wake up to the realization that their lives will soon be very difficult to manage and they should come out to protest to safeguard their social interests because that is the only way they will be heard. She gave me the example of Jordan and how Jordanians had forced their Prime Minister out of his office, through mass street protests and camping out at his office.
A conservative society, Jordanians rocked the capital, Amman, with a wave of mass protests, culminating in the resignation of Prime Minister Hani Mulki. They were protesting austerity measures imposed by the International Monetary Fund on the Kingdom. Unemployment and stiff price hikes occasioned by high inflation had become unbearable and on June 3, 2018, 5,000 Jordanians camped at Mulki’s office. Perhaps, unsurprisingly, the critical price hikes were in electricity and fuel. In 2012, the same Jordanians had also gone onto the streets to protest against increasing economic hard times, after the government bowed to IMF’s stiff conditions by cutting off fuel subsidies, all in an attempt to secure an IMF loan to lower the public debt. Jordan’s national debt, which runs into hundreds of billions of shillings, just like Kenya, is equivalent to 95 percent of the country’s Gross Domestic Product.
The mere mention of IMF for some Kenyans old enough to remember the 1980s, sends cold shivers down their spine. The Washington-based financial institution, once described by Mwalimu Julius Nyerere as The International Ministry of Finance, introduced what came to be known as Structural Adjustment Programmes (SAPs) in many of the Africa countries heavily indebted to western nations, beginning 1980. Prof Said Adejumobi, a political economist who has written numerously on SAP wrote in his paper in 1997; The Structural Adjustment Programme and Democratic Transition in Africa: “For Africa, the 1980s could be better described as the ‘adjustment decade’ as most African countries, in response to their ailing economic conditions, introduced one form of adjustment reform or the other.” Other political scientists, such as Adebayo Olukoshi, called the 1980s the “lost decade” for Africa.
Kenya first became an IMF patient in 1980; that is when the first SAP was introduced in the country. To fully comprehend what SAP meant and did to Kenyans, I will quote Adejumobi: “But what is the political import of SAP? SAP is a class project which seeks to create a ‘stable’ economic environment for the accumulation of capital by local and foreign bourgeoisie, while suppressing labour through wage freeze, insistence on strict work sector, reduction in workforce, (retrenchment), especially in the public sector. It also seeks to contract the provision of social services and infrastructure, like health, education and transportation.”
During the just ended G7 meeting in Quebec, Canada, President Uhuru Kenyatta was spotted engaging Christian Lagard, the IMF’s Managing Director, on the sidelines. In his article – One Week in March: Was the Handshake Triggered by the IMF? for the E-Review – John Githongo, wrote: “On the 6th of March, the Minister of Finance, Henry Rotich, made the surprise announcement that the government was ‘broke’. He would deny this a day later in rather incongruous fashion. On the same day he and the Central Bank Governor Patrick Njoroge essentially signed on to an IMF austerity programme. It wasn’t the traditional IMF programme circa 1980/90s, but it nevertheless was an acknowledgment that we were complying with a range of ‘confidence building’ measures ‘agreed’ with the IMF as we renegotiated our expired precautionary facility with them.” David Ndii, reiterated in another E-Review article, A Quest of Power – Why Ethiopia’s Economic Transformation is a Cautionary African Tale, the fact that “Kenya is surviving on speculative capital inflows and juggling debt as it negotiates an IMF bailout.”
To add salt to injury, Ndubai told me that the cost of M-Pesa transactions had gone up as a result of a 2 per cent increase in excise duty imposed by the government. M-Pesa is today the most transacted money transfer channel in the country. “The biggest population that uses M-Pesa is the ordinary man and woman, especially the rural folk and urban poor, because these people do not have bank accounts. When M-Pesa came, it was relief, but now it may end up being a burden. Think of the rural elderly who receive pensions. With the increased tariff, which Safaricom is going to push to the consumer, it is going to be difficult for the poor people of Kenya to effectively use mobile transfer platforms.”
“Kenya is surviving on speculative capital inflows and juggling debt as it negotiates an IMF bailout.”
I found out this to be true, when I went to meet Mweru at Githurai Market. She asked me whether M-Pesa charges had been increased. “I do all my payment through M-Pesa and I have noticed these people are taking a lot more of my money. This is very unfair,” she lamented. Going to Githurai Market had also revealed something else: during off-peak hours, Githurai residents pay Sh20 as matatu fare to the city centre and vice versa. “But some matatus were being adventurous by charging Sh30,” said Mweru. “If they push the fares further up, they are going to annoy the people. I think they are testing the waters to see how the people are going to react.”
I now understood what Sh20 meant to the five matatu travellers on their way to Kiambaa: in Githurai, it covers your entire fare back home. When I returned to Kiambaa stage at Kilome Road terminus after talking to Ndubai, the fares had been pegged at KSh100, irrespective of the weather. Hard times indeed.
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Dadaab: Playing Politics With the Lives of Somali Refugees in Kenya
Somali refugees in Kenya should not be held hostage by political disagreements between Mogadishu and Nairobi but must continue to enjoy Kenya’s protection as provided for under international law.
For several years now, Kenya has been demanding that the UNHCR, the UN Refugee Agency, close the expansive Dadaab refugee complex in north-eastern Kenya, citing “national security threats”. Kenya has argued, without providing sufficient proof, that Dadaab, currently home to a population of 218,000 registered refugees who are mostly from Somalia, provides a “safe haven” and a recruitment ground for al-Shabaab, the al-Qaeda affiliate in Somalia that constantly carries out attacks inside Kenya. Threats to shut down have escalated each time the group has carried out attacks inside Kenya, such as following the Westgate Mall attack in 2013 and the Garissa University attack in 2015.
However, unlike previous calls, the latest call to close Dadaab that came in March 2021, was not triggered by any major security lapse but, rather, was politically motivated. It came at a time of strained relations between Kenya and Somalia. Kakuma refugee camp in Turkana County in north-western Kenya, is mostly home to South Sudanese refugees but also hosts a significant number of Somali refugees. Kakuma has not been included in previous calls for closure but now finds itself targeted for political expediency—to show that the process of closing the camps is above board and targets all refugees in Kenya and not only those from Somalia.
That the call is politically motivated can be deduced from the agreement reached between the UNHCR and the Kenyan government last April where alternative arrangements are foreseen that will enable refugees from the East African Community (EAC) to stay. This means that the South Sudanese will be able to remain while the Somali must leave.
Accusing refugees of being a security threat and Dadaab the operational base from which the al-Shabaab launches its attacks inside Kenya is not based on any evidence. Or if there is any concrete evidence, the Kenyan government has not provided it.
Some observers accuse Kenyan leaders of scapegoating refugees even though it is the Kenyan government that has failed to come up with an effective and workable national security system. The government has also over the years failed to win over and build trust with its Muslim communities. Its counterterrorism campaign has been abusive, indiscriminately targeting and persecuting the Muslim population. Al-Shabab has used the anti-Muslim sentiment to whip up support inside Kenya.
Moreover, if indeed Dadaab is the problem, it is Kenya as the host nation, and not the UNHCR, that oversees security in the three camps that make up the Dadaab complex. The camps fall fully under the jurisdiction and laws of Kenya and, therefore, if the camps are insecure, it is because the Kenyan security apparatus has failed in its mission to securitise them.
The terrorist threat that Kenya faces is not a refugee problem — it is homegrown. Attacks inside Kenya have been carried out by Kenyan nationals, who make up the largest foreign group among al-Shabaab fighters. The Mpeketoni attacks of 2014 in Lamu County and the Dusit D2 attack of 2019 are a testament to the involvement of Kenyan nationals. In the Mpeketoni massacre, al-Shabaab exploited local politics and grievances to deploy both Somali and Kenyan fighters, the latter being recruited primarily from coastal communities. The terrorist cell that conducted the assault on Dusit D2 comprised Kenyan nationals recruited from across Kenya.
Jubaland and the maritime border dispute
This latest demand by the Kenyan government to close Dadaab by June 2022 is politically motivated. Strained relations between Kenya and Somalia over the years have significantly deteriorated in the past year.
Mogadishu cut diplomatic ties with Nairobi in December 2020, accusing Kenya of interfering in Somalia’s internal affairs. The contention is over Kenya’s unwavering support for the Federal Member State of Jubaland — one of Somalia’s five semi-autonomous states — and its leader Ahmed “Madobe” Mohamed Islam. The Jubaland leadership is at loggerheads with the centre in Mogadishu, in particular over the control of the Gedo region of Somalia.
Kenya has supported Jubaland in this dispute, allegedly hosting Jubaland militias inside its territory in Mandera County that which have been carrying out attacks on federal government of Somalia troop positions in the Gedo town of Beled Hawa on the Kenya-Somalia border. Dozens of people including many civilians have been killed in clashes between Jubaland-backed forces and the federal government troops.
Relations between the two countries have been worsened by the bitter maritime boundary dispute that has played out at the International Court of Justice (ICJ).
The latest call to close Dadaab is believed to have been largely triggered by the case at the Hague-based court, whose judgement was delivered on 12 October. The court ruled largely in favour of Somalia, awarding it most of the disputed territory. In a statement, Kenya’s President Uhuru Kenyatta said, “At the outset, Kenya wishes to indicate that it rejects in totality and does not recognize the findings in the decision.” The dispute stems from a disagreement over the trajectory to be taken in the delimitation of the two countries’ maritime border in the Indian Ocean. Somalia filed the case at the Hague in 2014. However, Kenya has from the beginning preferred and actively pushed for the matter to be settled out of court, either through bilateral negotiations with Somalia or through third-party mediation such as the African Union.
Kenya views Somalia as an ungrateful neighbour given all the support it has received in the many years the country has been in turmoil. Kenya has hosted hundreds of thousands of Somali refugees for three decades, played a leading role in numerous efforts to bring peace in Somalia by hosting peace talks to reconcile Somalis, and the Kenyan military, as part of the African Union Mission in Somalia, AMISOM, has sacrificed a lot and helped liberate towns and cities. Kenya feels all these efforts have not been appreciated by Somalia, which in the spirit of good neighbourliness should have given negotiation more time instead of going to court. In March, on the day of the hearing, when both sides were due to present their arguments, Kenya boycotted the court proceedings at the 11th hour. The court ruled that in determining the case, it would use prior submissions and written evidence provided by Kenya. Thus, the Kenyan government’s latest demand to close Dadaab is seen as retaliation against Somalia for insisting on pursuing the case at the International Court of Justice (ICJ).
Nowhere safe to return to
Closing Dadaab by June 2022 as Kenya has insisted to the UNHCR, is not practical and will not allow the dignified return of refugees. Three decades after the total collapse of the state in Somalia, conditions have not changed much, war is still raging, the country is still in turmoil and many parts of Somalia are still unsafe. Much of the south of the country, where most of the refugees in Dadaab come from, remains chronically insecure and is largely under the control of al-Shabaab. Furthermore, the risk of some of the returning youth being recruited into al-Shabaab is real.
A programme of assisted voluntary repatriation has been underway in Dadaab since 2014, after the governments of Kenya and Somalia signed a tripartite agreement together with the UNHCR in 2013. By June 2021, around 85,000 refugees had returned to Somalia under the programme, mainly to major cities in southern Somalia such as Kismayo, Mogadishu and Baidoa. However, the programme has turned out to be complicated; human rights groups have termed it as far from voluntary, saying that return is fuelled by fear and misinformation.
Many refugees living in Dadaab who were interviewed by Human Rights Watch said that they had agreed to return because they feared Kenya would force them out if they stayed. Most of those who were repatriated returned in 2016 at a time when pressure from the Kenyan government was at its highest, with uncertainty surrounding the future of Dadaab after Kenya disbanded its Department of Refugee Affairs (DRA) and halted the registration of new refugees.
Many of the repatriated ended up in camps for internally displaced persons (IDPs) within Somalia, with access to fewer resources and a more dangerous security situation. Somalia has a large population of 2.9 million IDPs scattered across hundreds of camps in major towns and cities who have been displaced by conflict, violence and natural disasters. The IDPs are not well catered for. They live in precarious conditions, crowded in slums in temporary or sub-standard housing with very limited or no access to basic services such as education, basic healthcare, clean water and sanitation. Thousands of those who were assisted to return through the voluntary repatriation programme have since returned to Dadaab after they found conditions in Somalia unbearable. They have ended up undocumented in Dadaab after losing their refugee status in Kenya.
Many refugees living in Dadaab who were interviewed by Human Rights Watch said that they had agreed to return because they feared Kenya would force them out if they stayed.
Camps cannot be a permanent settlement for refugees. Dadaab was opened 30 years ago as a temporary solution for those fleeing the war in Somalia. Unfortunately, the situation in Somalia is not changing. It is time the Kenyan government, in partnership with members of the international community, finds a sustainable, long-term solution for Somali refugees in Kenya, including considering pathways towards integrating the refugees into Kenyan society. Dadaab could then be shut down and the refugees would be able to lead dignified lives, to work and to enjoy freedom of movement unlike today where their lives are in limbo, living in prison-like conditions inside the camps.
The proposal to allow refugees from the East African Community to remain after the closure of the camps — which will mainly affect the 130,000 South Sudanese refugees in Kakuma — is a good gesture and a major opportunity for refugees to become self-reliant and contribute to the local economy.
Announcing the scheme, Kenya said that refugees from the EAC who are willing to stay on would be issued with work permits for free. Unfortunately, this option was not made available to refugees from Somalia even though close to 60 per cent of the residents of Dadaab are under the age of 18, have lived in Kenya their entire lives and have little connection with a country their parents escaped from three decades ago.
Many in Dadaab are also third generation refugees, the grandchildren of the first wave of refugees. Many have also integrated fully into Kenyan society, intermarried, learnt to speak fluent Swahili and identify more with Kenya than with their country of origin.
The numbers that need to be integrated are not huge. There are around 269,000 Somali refugees in Dadaab and Kakuma. When you subtract the estimated 40,000 Kenyan nationals included in refugee data, the figure comes down to around 230,000 people. This is not a large population that would alter Kenya’s demography in any signific ant way, if indeed this isis the fear in some quarters. If politics were to be left out of the question, integration would be a viable option.
Many in Dadaab are also third generation refugees, the grandchildren of the first wave of refugees.
For decades, Kenya has shown immense generosity by hosting hundreds of thousands of refugees, and it is important that the country continues to show this solidarity. Whatever the circumstances and the diplomatic difficulties with its neighbour Somalia, Kenya should respect its legal obligations under international law to provide protection to those seeking sanctuary inside its borders. Refugees should only return to their country when the conditions are conducive, and Somalia is ready to receive them. To forcibly truck people to the border, as Kenya has threatened in the past, is not a solution. If the process of returning refugees to Somalia is not well thought out, a hasty decision will have devastating consequences for their security and well-being.
The Assassination of President Jovenel Moïse and the Haitian Imbroglio
As CARICOM countries call for more profound changes that would empower the Haitian population, Western powers offer plans for “consensual and inclusive” government that will continue to exclude the majority of the citizens of Haiti from participating in the running of their country.
On Wednesday 7 July 2021, the President of Haiti, Jovenel Moïse, was assassinated in his home. His wife was injured in the attack. That the president’s assassins were able to access his home posing as agents of the Drug Enforcement Agency of the United States (DEA) brought to the fore the intricate relationship between drugs, money laundering and mercenary activities in Haiti. Two days later, the government of Haiti reported that the attack had been carried out by a team of assailants, 26 of whom were Colombian. This information that ex-soldiers from Colombia were involved brought to the spotlight the ways in which Haiti society has been enmeshed in the world of the international mercenary market and instability since the overthrow of President Jean-Bertrand Aristide and the Lavalas movement in 2004.
When the French Newspaper Le Monde recently stated that Haiti was one of the four drug hubs of the Caribbean region, the paper neglected to add the reality that as a drug hub, Haiti had become an important base for US imperial activities, including imperial money laundering, intelligence, and criminal networks. No institution in Haiti can escape this web and Haitian society is currently reeling from this ecosystem of exploitation, repression, and manipulation. Under President Donald Trump, the US heightened its opposition to the governments of Venezuela and Cuba. The mercenary market in Florida became interwoven with the US Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) and the financial institutions that profited from crime syndicates that thrive on anti-communist and anti-Cuba ideas.
But even as Haitian society is reeling from intensified destabilization, the so-called Core Group (comprising of the Organization of American States (OAS), the European Union, the United States, France, Spain, Canada, Germany, and Brazil) offers plans for “consensual and inclusive” government that will continue to exclude the majority of the citizens of Haiti from participating in the running of their country. Elsewhere in the Caribbean, CARICOM countries are calling for more profound changes that would empower the population while mobilizing international resources to neutralize the social power of the money launderers and oligarchs in Haitian society.
Haiti since the Duvaliers
For the past thirty-five years, the people of Haiti have yearned for a new mode of politics to transcend the dictatorship of the Duvaliers (Papa Doc and Baby Doc). The Haitian independence struggles at the start of the 19th century had registered one of the most fundamental blows to the institutions of chattel slavery and colonial domination. Since that revolution, France and the US have cooperated to punish Haiti for daring to resist white supremacy. An onerous payment of reparations to France was compounded by US military occupation after 1915.
Under President Woodrow Wilson, the racist ideals of the US imperial interests were reinforced in Haiti in a nineteen-year military occupation that was promoted by American business interests in the country. Genocidal violence from the Dominican Republic in 1937 strengthened the bonds between militarism and extreme violence in the society. Martial law, forced labour, racism and extreme repression were cemented in the society. Duvalierism in the form of the medical doctor François Duvalier mobilized a variant of Negritude in the 50s to cement a regime of thuggery, aligned with the Cold War goals of the United States in the Caribbean. The record of the Duvalier regime was reprehensible in every form, but this kind of government received military and intelligence assistance from the United States in a region where the Cuban revolution offered an alternative. Francois Duvalier died in 1971 and was succeeded by his son, Jean-Claude Duvalier, who continued the tradition of rule by violence (the notorious Tonton Macoute) until this system was overthrown by popular uprisings in 1986.
The Haitian independence struggles at the start of the 19th century had registered one of the most fundamental blows to the institutions of chattel slavery and colonial domination.
On 16 December 1990, Jean-Bertrand Aristide won the presidency by a landslide in what were widely reported to be the first free elections in Haiti’s history. Legislative elections in January 1991 gave Aristide supporters a plurality in Haiti’s parliament. The Lavalas movement of the Aristide leadership was the first major antidote to the historical culture of repression and violence. The United States and France opposed this new opening of popular expression such that military intervention, supported by external forces in North America and the Organization of American States, brought militarists and drug dealers under General Joseph Raoul Cédras to the forefront of the society. The working peoples of Haiti were crushed by an alliance of local militarists, external military peacekeepers and drug dealers. The noted Haitian writer, Edwidge Danticat, has written extensively on the consequences of repeated military interventions, genocide and occupation in the society while the population sought avenues to escape these repressive orders. After the removal of the Aristide government in 2004, it was the expressed plan of the local elites and the external forces that the majority of the Haitian population should be excluded from genuine forms of participatory democracy, including elections.
Repression, imperial NGOs and humanitarian domination
The devastating earthquake of January 2010 further deepened the tragic socio-economic situation in Haiti. An estimated 230,000 Haitians lost their lives, 300,000 were injured, and more than 1.5 million were displaced as a result of collapsed buildings and infrastructure. External military interventions by the United Nations, humanitarian workers and international foundations joined in the corruption to strengthen the anti-democratic forces in Haitian society. The Clinton Foundation of the United States was complicit in imposing the disastrous presidency of Michel Martelly on Haitian society after the earthquake. The book by Jonathan Katz, The Big Truck That Went By: How the World Came to Save Haiti and Left Behind a Disaster, provides a gripping account of the corruption in Haiti. So involved were the Clintons in the rot in Haiti that Politico Magazine dubbed Bill and Hilary, The King and Queen of Haiti.
In 2015, Jovenel Moïse was elected president in a very flawed process, but was only able to take office in 2017. From the moment he entered the presidency, his administration became immersed in the anti-people traditions that had kept the ruling elites together with the more than 10,000 international NGOs that excluded Haitians from participating in the projects for their own recovery. President Moïse carved out political space in Haiti with the support of armed groups who were deployed as death squads with the mission of terrorizing popular spaces and repressing supporters of the Haitian social movement. In a society where the head of state did not have a monopoly over armed gangs, kidnappings, murder (including the killing of schoolchildren) and assassinations got out of control. Under Moïse, Haiti had become an imbroglio where the government and allied gangs organized a series of massacres in poor neighbourhoods known to host anti-government organizing, killing dozens at a time.
Moïse and the extension of repression in Haiti
Moïse remained president with the connivance of diplomats and foundations from Canada, France and the United States. These countries and their leaders ignored the reality that the Haitian elections of 2017 were so deeply flawed and violent that almost 80 per cent of Haitian voters did not, or could not, vote. Moïse, with the support of one section of the Haitian power brokers, avoided having any more elections, and so parliament became inoperative in January 2020, when the terms of most legislators expired. When mayors’ terms expired in July 2020, Moïse personally appointed their replacements. This accumulation of power by the president deepened the divisions within the capitalist classes in Haiti. Long-simmering tensions between the mulatto and black capitalists were exacerbated under Moïse who mobilized his own faction on the fact that he was seeking to empower and enrich the black majority. Thugs and armed gangs were integrated into the drug hub and money laundering architecture that came to dominate Haiti after 2004.
After the Trump administration intensified its opposition to the Venezuelan government, the political and commercial leadership in Haiti became suborned to the international mercenary and drug systems that were being mobilized in conjunction with the military intelligence elements in Florida and Colombia. President Jovenel Moïse’s term, fed by spectacular and intense struggles between factions of the looters, was scheduled to come to a legal end in February 2021. Moïse sought to remain in power, notwithstanding the Haitian constitution, the electoral law, or the will of the Haitian people.
So involved were the Clintons in the rot in Haiti that Politico Magazine dubbed Bill and Hilary, The King and Queen of Haiti.
Since the removal of Aristide and the marginalization of the Lavalas forces from the political arena in Haiti, the US has been more focused on strengthening the linkages between the Haitian drug lords and the money launderers in Colombia, Florida, Dominican Republic, and Venezuelan exiles. It was therefore not surprising that the mercenary industry, with its linkages to financial forces in Florida, has been implicated in the assassination of President Moïse. The Core Group of Canada, France and the US has not once sought to deploy the resources of the international Financial Action Task Force (FATF) to penetrate the interconnections between politicians in Haiti and the international money laundering and mercenary market.
Working for democratic transition in Haiti
The usual handlers of Haitian repression created the Core Group within one month of Moïse’s assassination. Canada, France and the United States had historically been implicated in the mismanaging of Haiti along with the United Nations. Now, the three countries have mobilized the OAS (with its checkered history), Brazil and the European Union to add their weight to a new transition that will continue to exclude the majority of the people of Haiti. It has been clear that under the current system of destabilization and violence, social peace will be necessary before elections can take place in Haiti.
Moïse sought to remain in power, notwithstanding the Haitian constitution, the electoral law, or the will of the Haitian people.
The continuous infighting among the Haitian ruling elements after the assassination was temporarily resolved at the end of July when Ariel Henry was confirmed by the US and France as Prime Minister. Henry had been designated as prime minister by Moïse days before his assassination. The popular groups in Haiti that had opposed Moïse considered the confirmation of Ariel Henry as a slap in the face because they had been demonstrating for the past four years for a more robust change to the political landscape. These organizations mobilized in what they called the Commission, (a gathering of civil society groups and political parties with more than 150 members), and had been holding marathon meetings to publicly work out what kind of transitional government they would want to see. According to the New York Times, rather than a consensus, the Core Group of international actors imposed a “unilateral proposal” on the people of Haiti.
Haiti is a member of CARICOM. The Caribbean community has proposed a longer transition period overseen by CARICOM for the return of Haiti to democracy. With the experience of the UN in Haiti, the Caribbean community has, through its representative on the UN Security Council, proposed the mobilization of the peacekeeping resources and capabilities of the UN to be deployed to CARICOM in order to organize a credible transition to democracy in Haiti. The nature and manner of the assassination of President Moïse has made more urgent the need for genuine reconstruction and support for democratic transition in Haiti.
How Dadaab Has Changed the Fortunes of North-Eastern Kenya
Despite the hostile rhetoric and threats of closure, the presence of refugees in the camps in northern-eastern Kenyan has benefited the host communities.
In the 1960s, Kenya had a progressive refugee policy that allowed refugees to settle anywhere in the country and to access education. This approach created in Kenya a cadre of skilled and professional refugees. However, the policy changed in the 1990s due to an overwhelming influx of refugees and asylum seekers escaping conflict in Somalia, Ethiopia and South Sudan. Kenya switched to an encampment policy for refugees, who were mainly confined to camps.
Although there are refugees living in urban and peri-urban areas elsewhere in the country, for over two decades, northern Kenya has hosted a disproportionate number of the refugees living in Kenya. The region has been home to one of the world’s largest refugee camps, with generations of lineage having an impact on the economic, social, cultural, and ecological situation of the region because of the support provided by the government and by non-governmental organisations (NGOs) in education, health and security services.
Mandera and Marsabit counties, both of which boarder with Ethiopia, Wajir County which borders with both Ethiopia and Somalia and, Garissa County which borders with Somalia, have hosted refugees and migrants displaced from their countries of origin for various reasons. In 2018, the town of Moyale, which is on the Ethiopian boarder in Marsabit County, temporarily hosted over 10,000 Ethiopians escaping military operations in Ethiopia’s Moyale District.
Elwak town in Wajir County occasionally hosts pastoralist communities from Somalia who cross into Kenya seeking pasture for their livestock. While the movement of refugees into Marsabit and Wajir counties has been of a temporary nature, Garissa County has hosted refugees for decades.
Located 70 kilometres from the border with Somalia, the Dadaab refugee complex was established in the 1990s and has three main camps: Dagahaley, Ifo, and Hagadera. Due to an increase in refugee numbers around 2011, the Kambioos refugee camp in Fafi sub-county was established to host new arrivals from Somalia and to ease pressure on the overcrowded Hagadera refugee camp. The Kambioos camp was closed in 2019 as the refugee population fell.
According to the UN Refugee Agency, UNHCR, and the Refugee Affairs Secretariat (RAS), the Dadaab refugee complex currently hosts over 226, 689 refugees, 98 per cent of whom are from Somalia. In 2015, the refugee population in the Dadaab refugee complex was over 300,000, larger than that of the host community. In 2012, the camp held over 400,000 refugees leading to overstretched and insufficient resources for the growing population.
Under international refugee and human rights law, the government has the sole responsibility of hosting and caring for refugees. However, there is little information regarding the investments made by the Kenyan government in the refugee sector in the north-eastern region over time. Moreover, the government’s investment in the sector is debatable since there was no proper legal framework to guide refugee operations in the early 1990s. It was only in 2006 that the government enacted the Refugee Act that formally set up the Refugee Affairs Secretariat mandated to guide and manage the refugee process in Kenya.
While the Refugee Act of 2006 places the management of refugee affairs in the hands of the national government, devolved county governments play a significant role in refugee operations. With the 2010 constitution, the devolution of social functions such as health and education has extended into refugee-hosting regions and into refugee camps. While devolution in this new and more inclusive system of governance has benefited the previously highly marginalised north-eastern region through a fairer distribution of economic and political resources, there is however little literature on how the refugees benefit directly from the county government resource allocations.
The three north-eastern counties are ranked among the leading recipients of devolved funds: Mandera County alone received US$88 million in the 2015/2016 financial year, the highest allocation of funds after Nairobi and Turkana, leading to developmental improvements.
However, it can be argued that the allocation of funds from the national government to the northern frontier counties by the Kenya Commission on Revenue Allocation—which is always based on the Revenue Allocation table that prioritizes population, poverty index, land area, basic equal share and fiscal responsibility—may not have been taking the refugee population into account. According to the 2019 census, the population of Dadaab sub-county is 185,252, a figure that is well below the actual refugee population. The increase in population in the north-eastern region that is due to an increase in the refugee population calls for an increase in the allocation of devolved funds.
The three north-eastern counties are ranked among the leading recipients of devolved funds.
Dadaab refugee camp has been in the news for the wrong reasons. Security agencies blame the refugees for the increased Al Shabaab activity in Kenya, and even though these claims are disputed, the government has made moves to close down the camp. In 2016, plans to close Dadaab were blocked by the High Court which declared the proposed closure unconstitutional. In 2021, Kenya was at it again when Ministry of Interior Cabinet Secretary Fred Matiang’I tweeted that he had given the UNHCR 14 days to draw up a plan for the closure of the camp. The UNHCR and the government issued a joint statement agreeing to close the camp in June 2022.
The security rhetoric is not new. There has been a sustained campaign by Kenya to portray Dadaab as a security risk on national, regional and international platforms. During the 554th meeting of the African Union Peace and Security Forum held in November 2015, it was concluded that the humanitarian character of the Dadaab refugee camp had been compromised. The AU statements, which may have been drafted by Kenya, claimed that the attacks on Westgate Mall and Garissa University were planned and launched from within the refugee camps. These security incidents are an indication of the challenges Kenya has been facing in managing security. For example, between 2010 and 2011, there were several IED (Improvised Explosive Devices) incidents targeting police vehicles in and around Dadaab where a dozen officers were injured or killed. In October 2012, two people working for the medical charity Médicins Sans Frontières (MSF) were kidnapped in Dadaab. Local television network NTV has described the camp as “a womb of terror” and “a home for al-Shabaab operations”.
There has been a sustained campaign by Kenya to portray Dadaab as a security risk on national, regional and international platforms.
Security restrictions and violent incidents have created a challenging operational environment for NGOs, leading to the relocation of several non-local NGO staff as well as contributing to a shrinking humanitarian space. Some teachers and health workers from outside the region have refused to return to the area following terrorist attacks by Al-Shabaab, leaving behind large gaps in the health, education, and nutrition sectors.
However, despite the challenging situation, the refugee camps have also brought many benefits, not only to Kenya as a country but also to the county governments and the local host communities.
According to the Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD) half the refugee population in the IGAD member states are children of school-going age, between 4 and 18 years.
In Garissa, the education sector is one of the areas that has benefited from the hosting of refugees in the county because the host community has access to schools in the refugee camps. Windle Trust, an organisation that offers scholarships to students in secondary schools and in vocational training institutes, has been offering scholarships to both the refugees and the host communities. In July 2021, over 70 students benefited from a project run by International Labour Organisations (ILO) in partnership with Garissa county governments, the East African Institute of Welding (EAIW) and the Kenya Association of Manufacturers (KAM) to give industrial welding skills to refugees and host communities.
However, despite the measures taken by the Kenyan government to enrol refugees in Kenyan schools, there is a notable gap that widens as students go through the different levels of education. Statistics show that of the school-going refugee population, only a third get access to secondary education of which a sixth get to join tertiary institutions. This is well below the government’s Sustainable Development Goal (SDG) 4 target that seeks to ensure that all girls and boys complete free, equitable and quality primary and secondary education. This also reflects the situation of the host community’s education uptake. Other investments in the education sector that have targeted the host communities include recruitment and deployment of early childhood education teachers to schools in the host community by UNHCR and other non-governmental organizations (NGOs).
The presence of refugees has led to NGOs setting up and running projects in the camps. According to Garissa County’s Integrated Development Plan, there are over 70 non-governmental organisations present, with the majority operating around the Dadaab refugee complex and within the host communities. The UNHCR estimates that it will require about US$149.6 million to run its operations in Dadaab Camp this year. However, as of May 2021, only US$45.6 million—31 per cent of the total amount required—had been received.
The decrease in humanitarian funding has had an impact on the livelihoods of refugees and host communities in north-eastern Kenya. According to the World Bank, 73 per cent of the population of Garissa County live below the poverty line. In the absence of social safety nets, locals have benefited from the humanitarian operations in and around the camp. The UNHCR reports that about 40,000 Kenyan nationals within a 50km radius of the Dadaab refugee camp ended up enrolling as refugees in order to access food and other basic services in the camps.
In 2014, the UNHCR reported that it had supported the Kenyan community residing in the wider Daadab region in establishing over US$5 million worth of community assets since 2011. The presence of refugees has also increased remittances from the diaspora, and there are over 50 remittance outlets operating in the Dadaab camp, increasing economic opportunities and improving services. Using 2010 as the reference year, researchers have found that the economic benefits of the Dadaab camp to the host community amount to approximately US$14 million annually.
The UNHCR reported that it had supported the Kenyan community residing in the wider Daadab region in establishing over US$5 million of community assets since 2011 since 2011.
To reduce overdependence on aid and humanitarian funding in running refugee operations, the County Government of Garissa developed a Garissa Integrated Socio-Economic Development Plan (GISEDP) in 2019 that provided ways of integrating refugees into the socio-economic life of the community to enhance their self-reliance. The European Union announced a Euro 5 million funding programme to support the socio-economic development plan, thus opening up opportunities for development initiatives including income generating activities such as the flourishing businesses at Hagadera market. The recent announcement of the planned closure of the camp has put these plans at risk.
The host community is increasingly involved in issues that affect both the locals living around the Dadaab refugee complex and the refugees themselves, with the voice of the community gaining prominence in decision-making regarding the county budget and sometimes even regarding NGO operations. NGOs periodically conduct needs assessments in and around the camp to guide the budgeting and planning process for subsequent years and the host community is always consulted.
Interest in governance issues has also increased. For example, between 2010 and 2015 the host community successfully lobbied for increased employment opportunities for locals in the UNHCR operations. With experience in the humanitarian field, some from within the host communities have secured positions as expatriates in international organizations across the globe, adding to increased international remittances to Garissa County.
Research reveals that, compared to other pastoralist areas, health services for host communities have improved because of the presence of aid agencies in Dadaab. Hospitals managed by Médicins Sans Frontières and the International Red Cross in Dagahaley and Hagadera respectively are said to be offering better services than the sub-county hospital in Dadaab town. The two hospitals are Ministry of Health-approved vaccination centres in the fight against the COVID-19 pandemic.
Despite the massive investments made in the health sector by humanitarian organisations in and around Dadaab, both UNICEF and the World Health Organisation have identified the camp as an entry point for infectious diseases like polio and measles into Kenya. There was a confirmed case of WPV1 (wild poliovirus) in a 4-month-old girl from the Dadaab refugee camp in May 2013. This is a clear indication of the health risks associated with the situation.
Researchers have found that the economic benefits of the Dadaab camp to the host community amount to approximately US$14 million annually.
Other problems associated with the presence of the camps include encroachment of the refugee population on local land, leading to crime and hostility between the two communities. These conflicts are aggravated by the scramble for the little arable land available in this semi-arid region that makes it difficult to grow food and rear farm animals, leading to food shortages.
While it is important to acknowledge that progress has been made in integrating refugees into the north-eastern region, and that some development has taken place in the region, more needs to be done to realise the full potential of the region and its communities. Kenya’s security sector should ensure that proper measures are put in place to enhance security right from the border entry point in order to weed out criminals who take advantage of Kenya’s acceptance of refugees. The country should not expel those who have crossed borders in search of refuge but should tap fully into the benefits that come with hosting refugees.
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