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DIVIDENDS, DEFICITS, AND DEVELOPMENT: Can Kenyan Millennials Ride the Demographic Wave?

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Falling fertility and mortality rates have put Kenya in line to reap the same demographic dividend that powered the rise of the Asian Tigers – but only if it gets its social and economic policies right. By PAUL GOLDSMITH

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DIVIDENDS, DEFICITS, AND DEVELOPMENT: Can Kenyan Millennials Ride The Demographic Wave?
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The population surge now taking place across sub-Saharan Africa is this continent’s equivalent of the Western post-war Baby Boom. The congruence with demographic transitions elsewhere suggests that in theory, Africa’s “Baby Boomer” millennials are well positioned to affect a radical transformation. The case for a generational social movement intersects Kenya’s potential for a demographic dividend similar to the one underpinning the rapid rise of the Asian Tigers.

Two thousand years ago, Africans comprised an estimated 12 to 15 per cent of the world’s population. Africa’s share had dropped to 9 per cent by 1500 AD. By the end of the 19th century, the export of African slaves to the Americas and environmental calamities contributed to its decline to 6 per cent. Initial conditions, including the continent’s low population densities, physical and spatial barriers to communication, and historical isolation from other world regions, made it vulnerable to European exploitation.

Africa’s population began catching up during the decades of colonial rule, and spiked after independence. The continent’s share of the world’s population reached 17 per cent in 2017, and Africa is projected to host over a quarter of the world’s people by 2050. Naturally, the exceptionally high growth rates of the past several decades pose some formidable developmental challenges for Kenya and for the many other African nations with similar demographics.

Fewer births each year results in a country’s young dependent population decreasing relative to the working-age population. With fewer people to support, a country has a window of opportunity for rapid economic growth, but only if it gets its social and economic policies right. The decline in fertility, albeit slower than was the case in Asia, should exert a similar effect on African countries.

Kenya’s population has been surging since independence, growing from 8 million in 1960 to 13 million in 1975, and doubling to 26 million in 1995. These numbers confirm the fact that all the generations of Kenyans alive today were “Baby Boomers” when they came of age. The result is a population pyramid that over time has more in common with Mt. Kenya than with Mt. Kilimanjaro.

Since the colonial era, Kenya’s lopsided population distribution, where over 80 per cent of the population is concentrated in the 23 per cent of high potential land, has combined with the threat of environmental degradation to provoke Malthusian predictions of impending calamity. During the 1990s, urbanisation and the numbers of new university graduates entering the economy provoked a new set of concerns.

Kenya’s population has been surging since independence, growing from 8 million in 1960 to 13 million in 1975, and doubling to 26 million in 1995. These numbers confirm the fact that all the generations of Kenyans alive today were “Baby Boomers” when they came of age. The result is a population pyramid that over time has more in common with Mt. Kenya than with Mt. Kilimanjaro.

In 1998, I reviewed an internal US State Department analysis of the problem that outlined three future scenarios for Kenya: economic take-off; collapse; and muddling through. Where the document highlighted the prospects for political instability in the future if the then Moi regime of public mismanagement and political corruption were to persist, I opined that Kenyans were a resilient people who would somehow manage as long as the rains were okay.

This proved to be true. The rise in annual GDP growth during the following years may have partially offset the spreading rot, but the large numbers of educated youth entering the work force exposed the unsatisfactory state of affairs, as the accounts of urban millennials published in The Elephant over the last two months have shown.

Demographic dividends and deficits

Population growth in the form of natural increase and mass migration is one of the primary forces of historical change. However, demographic structure is acknowledged to be the more important indicator for developmental policy. The latest population numbers for Kenya provide the quantitative parameters of the country’s shifting generational balance.

Kenya Population Structure, 2017

Kenya Population Structure, 2017

Source:  CIA World Factbook

The backlash against the elders highlighted in many of the Elephant’s Millennial Edition is tempered by their relative scarcity. The elderly – people over the age of 65 – now comprise only three per cent of Kenya’s 48 million population. The 25-54 age group’s current share of the population is now one-third larger than it was in 1975.

One notices the difference conveyed by these statistics as soon as you step off the plane almost anywhere in the northern hemisphere. America’s retiring Baby Boomers, for example, are 16 per cent of the U.S. population. In South Korea, so often cited to underscore the two countries’ diverging economic pathways over the past several decades, the figure is 13.5 per cent. The world’s estimated average is edging towards 10 per cent and growing; the trend will translate into a global reduction in household savings and returns on financial assets. This will reduce the growth of household wealth from the historical mean of 4.5 per cent to 1.3 per cent over the next two decades, according to research on global demographic trends.

These numbers qualify the demographic dividend David Ndii referred to in his contribution to the discourse. Formally defined, the demographic dividend is the accelerated economic growth assisted by a decline in a country’s mortality and fertility and the shift in the age structure of the population. This dividend can be activated when pro-human capital policies combined with a large working-age population create virtuous cycles of wealth creation.

The dividend accounted for an estimated two-fifths of the Asian economic miracle. Now it may be Africa’s turn. Population numbers are moving in this direction, but there are basic prerequisites that must be in place for it to happen. Flexible labour markets, quality education systems and health services, and outward-looking economic policies are conventional elements of the formula.

Kenya’s formal policy framework meets most of the criteria. Despite the slower than expected fertility rate decline, Kenya’s dependency ratio is hovering between 76 per cent and 80 per cent. This means one working individual currently supports up to four dependents, but the ratio will decline, bringing Kenya in the rank of countries expected to reap the dividend. But there is no guarantee that this will happen, as the dividend is time-bound. The equation has real and potential implications for millennials, especially considering that important economic indicators, such as investments and savings, are trending in the opposite direction.

The demographic surge raises the stakes for getting policy right. In the case of Latin America, weak governments and closed economies saw large areas forfeit their dividend during the years between 1965 and 1985. Comparative analysis indicates the interactive effect of policy and demography accounts for 50 per cent of the growth gap between Latin America and East Asia. The corresponding observations about demographic deficits, or the failure to maintain living standards due to population decline or other systemic inefficiencies, underscore the imperative of getting the long-term policy equation right.

The demographic surge raises the stakes for getting policy right. In the case of Latin America, weak governments and closed economies saw large areas forfeit their dividend during the years between 1965 and 1985.

Japan and Europe are now going through the decline phase of their demographic transition. Socio-economic change diminishing the role of extended families and other social mechanisms exacerbates the problem, requiring that the state enact effective social policies to bridge the gap. Although post-war Japan maximised its dividend, it is still having problems coping with a population that is shrinking and aging at the same time. Despite its sustained economic growth, almost half of South Korea’s citizens aged over 65 now live in relative poverty, defined in this case as earning 50 per cent or less of median household income. High levels of isolation and depression have led to a dramatic rise in suicide among the elderly, from 34 per 100,000 people in 2000 to 72 per 100,000 people in 2010.

The United States, in contrast, has traditionally relied on immigration to maintain its working-age population. This has countered the aging variable while sustaining a major source of socio-economic revitalisation in the form of new blood and cultural diversity. The noise from President Donald Trump and his base conflicts with the fact that the 75 per cent of Americans support immigration, and they report that the diversity of immigrants makes the country a better place. The country has systematically capitalised on this multicultural dividend to rejuvenate the population and refresh its economy throughout its history. Present controversies over uncontrolled immigration and refugee influxes camouflage the fact that Europe has lately been following a similar – though undeclared – policy pathway.

Demographic transitions typically involve a large jump in population followed by a steady decline as investment in fewer children replaces the risk-spreading and agricultural labour function of large families. In Kenya, where the fertility rate remained in the mid-3 per cent range until the last decade, perhaps the prolonged transition to “adulating” lamented in some of the millennials’ accounts may hasten the fertility rate to drop to the replacement level of 2.1 children per woman from the 2.7 of the past decade.

The employment numbers indicate that the process of reaping the dividend here is less linear and subject to the distinctive features of Kenya’s geography and domestic politically economy. The median age in Kenya is now 19, and Kenya’s 39 per cent overall unemployment rate translates into 22 per cent for youth. The numbers for neighbouring countries are much lower: 4.1 per cent for Uganda; 5.2 per cent for Tanzania; and 3.1 per cent for Rwanda. Even Nigeria, Africa’s most populous country, has a significantly-below-Kenya youth unemployment rate of 13 per cent.

Even though we should not accept all these economic numbers at face value (the less visible parallel economy that doesn’t show up in official statistics is an important source of informal sector livelihoods in Kenya), we may be facing the politically explosive demographic overload scenario that was detailed in the State Department study twenty years ago.

The median age in Kenya is now 19, and Kenya’s 39 per cent overall unemployment rate translates into 22 per cent for youth. The numbers for neighbouring countries are much lower: 4.1 per cent for Uganda; 5.2 per cent for Tanzania; and 3.1 per cent for Rwanda. Even Nigeria, Africa’s most populous country, has a significantly-below-Kenya youth unemployment rate of 13 per cent.

The demographic dividend has a finite window; it does not occur automatically. Both the policies and their timing are critical, which is why Kenya’s millennials are facing a two-pronged dilemma: unemployment is high yet some 47 per cent of the Kenyans sampled in a 2014 Pew Research Survey reported that aging is a major problem. The figures for populous Nigeria, crowded Egypt, and middle-income South Africa came in at 28 per cent, 23 per cent, and 39 per cent in comparison, respectively.

These factors raise the stakes for Kenya getting things right now. But there is more at the crux of the debate than economic policy and warm bodies. Technological innovation works with population increase to drive human adaptation, and developments are moving rapidly on this front.

The fast-moving advance of the fourth technological revolution suggests that Kenya and its neighbours in Rwanda and Ethiopia have the potential to jump the queue if they position themselves properly for the longer run. Negative implications of artificial intelligence for the future of work should not distract us from the benefits on the horizon. The technology sector and building the industrial Internet may serve the same role that manufacturing did in Asia, although the potential for the same demo-techno double dividend cannot be taken for granted.

Assessments of African economic trends now argue that Africa is not likely to transit through the phase of manufacturing and carbon-driven energy generation that powered the post-World War II rise of East Asia and other world regions. Fourth generation technologies, in contrast, can generate an equivalent rise in prosperity and economic growth. This will come about through their contribution to everyday economic domains like health care, resource management and precision agriculture. Digital platforms are already creating a new small-scale ecosystem for commodity marketing, financial inclusion, and women’s empowerment according to one Kenyan expert.

The potential for tech-driven growth will require more than the tech hubs being established in Africa’s tech-friendly countries. It requires the kind of unorthodox and often irreverent problem-solving mindset that the country’s education system is adept at quashing.

The dynamic relationships linking scientific research, applied technology, and venture capital are critical to contemporary processes of innovation. This requires an enabling cultural environment, as demonstrated by the rise of American tech hotspots in the San Francisco Bay area, North Carolina’s research triangle, and the northeastern corridor. These hotspots were not planned; rather, the presence of top research universities and a culture of critical thinking and entrepreneurial risk-taking enabled their rise to prominence over the past three decades.

Kenya’s economy was building towards a transformational tipping point before events saw the country drift into a nebulous purgatory of ethnic polarities and failed constitutionalism. Now deficit financing of infrastructural projects and massive corruption are continuing to remove from circulation critical resources that could be energising the younger generations’ pent-up human capital.

The future availability of such investment capital cannot be taken for granted. It may decline apace with the industrial world’s demographic deficit over coming decades. Then again, demographic trends and the historian John Illife’s treatise on The Emergence of African Capitalism suggest that the continent just may step into the gap. (This was in 1981.) The importance of this synergetic union of capital and labour happening now extend beyond the African continent due to the significance of Africa’s expanding share of the world’s economically active population for the world economy.

Kenya’s economy was building towards a transformational tipping point before events saw the country drift into a nebulous purgatory of ethnic polarities and failed constitutionalism. Now deficit financing of infrastructural projects and massive corruption are continuing to remove from circulation critical resources that could be energising the younger generations’ pent-up human capital.

Beyond demography and economic policy

The first thing that strikes me when I get off the plane back in Kenya is the high level of activity almost everywhere one looks. The country is bursting with energy, but some of it is misdirected and much of it is generating low per capita returns.

The former World Bank head for Kenya, Apurva Sanghi, attributes the mismatch between job requirements and the shortfall of skilled labour due to the poor quality of education. This mismatch clashes with the millennials’ claims about their high level of education. The dramatic growth in universities in Kenya saw quantity replacing quality and the acquisition of paper qualifications displacing the search for knowledge. The commercialisation of higher education has in effect been another drain on the economy that has deprived a large segment of the millennial generation of the skills commensurate with their degrees and diplomas.

The more one studies the data, the more muddled the already uncertain big picture becomes. Even so, the long-term fundamentals, including the country’s 5 per cent per annum growth rates, are at best just okay.

As the latest World Bank overview for Kenya states, Kenya has the potential to be one of Africa’s success stories. All the country has to do is address “the challenges of poverty, inequality, governance, the skills gap between market requirements and the education curriculum, climate change, low investment and low firm productivity in order to achieve rapid, sustained growth rates that will transform lives of ordinary citizens.”

This is a very tall order and until this happens the country will continue to face the risk of stagnation and a creeping demographic deficit. The clock is ticking. In any event, the country needs more than the population-based dividend to drive its transformation. Assuming that demographic growth and the right policies do account for up to 40 cent of the Asian economic miracle, where did the other 60 per cent come from?

Japan and the Asian Tiger nations achieved their reputation through rapid growth compacted within the space of several decades. The demographic dividend is the central component in the developmental mantra explaining East Asia’s remarkable transition. The dividend was activated by policies that combined agricultural commercialisation, liberalisation and the relaxing of state controls, fostering a combination of domestic industry and export-led growth with favourable international economic conditions.

South Korea, the most popular exemplar for other developing countries, implemented deliberate population policies and pragmatic economic guidelines that helped create an age structure facilitating its rapid transition from an agrarian to an industrial society during the short interval between 1960 and 1990. The mutually reinforcing economic and population policies resulted in a basic shift at the household level, with changes in women’s roles and the rise of a middle class in place of the formerly dominant land-owning aristocracy.

The Asian exemplars counteracted the influence of Malthusian assumptions on post-independence developmental thinking, and now the Chinese model figures prominently in the calculations of many African political decision-makers. The Lamu Port, South Sudan, Ethiopia Transport Corridor (LAPSSET) project is emblematic of the focus on large infrastructure projects, natural resource exports, and extractive industries. The proposed Konza Technology City is another worthy but flawed project representative of the central command approach. The coders, investors, nerds, and hackers are not thrilled about moving to a corporate complex in the hinterland in the tradition of sparsely inhabited cityscapes like Brasilia, Morogoro, and China’s Xiongan megacity.

Asia’s big blueprint approaches were consistent with the central planning tradition and Confucian ideologies of social harmony that justified past South Korean and present Chinese and North Korean dictatorships. But there was nothing particularly harmonious about the Asian developmental processes that grew out of the region’s intense internal and territorial struggles, all of which reflected the zero-sum stakes of the era’s ideological conflicts. The triumph of capitalism in that region was anointed with blood, napalm, and genocidal pogroms. The success of the Asian Tigers was the culmination of a long fight that began with imperialism and led to new policies midwifed by fierce competition within old societies sharing similar environmental settings and socio-economic constraints.

Africa’s distinctive features, however, contrast with the conditions underpinning the Asian developmental orthodoxy. In the case of Kenya, competition between communities and opposition to the state prevail whereas in Asia competition and conflict were over ideology and economic models. Growing local opposition to centrally-planned projects in places like Turkana, Isiolo, and Lamu is indicative of the kind of political and social obstacles now complicating the next phase of the proverbial way forward.

Milk, as the pastoralists’ blockade of the road to Lodwar indicates, is still thicker than oil in the Horn of Africa.

It is interesting that the Marxist planners of the superpower era in Eastern Europe saw artificial intelligence as the natural ally of socialist development. AI may still prove to be an antidote to the inequities promoted by neoliberal capitalism. Where Western advisors stressed population control, their socialist counterparts in Africa saw population growth as integral to the continent reclaiming its position on the world stage. The prospects of this happening over the next several decades reminds us that Marx was one of the few analysts to critique the natural laws of Malthus when he postulated that each society at each point in history has its own laws that determine the consequences of population growth.

In traditional African systems, these laws often reflected the dynamics of generational succession. The cultural emphasis on the wisdom of the elders supported their embedded cross-generational influence on decision-making. I witnessed negative examples of this tradition in my children’s schools, where on more than one occasion, I lost arguments with fellow parents over issues like setting up computer labs and Internet connections. Kenya’s fossilised education system is one of the culprits responsible for the under-35ers’ angst, and this is corroborated by another recent essay on the multidimensional crisis plaguing higher education, published in The Elephant.

Has the generational model of African development hit a wall? The unproductive transfer of generational assets that formerly sustained capital formation is undermining productivity in the highland areas that fueled Kenya’s post-independence prosperity. When parents die they bequeath their wealth to their children, and this powered economic growth and diversification in the past. This vector is now turning family farms into dead capital as the owners age and their children working outside the sector block the sale of family land. The widespread leasing of small acreages and the break-up of large farms into parcels for rent is one symptom of a malaise that impacts beyond the agricultural sector.

 

The economic planners that once fostered Kenya’s economic growth have morphed into bureaucrats trapped in the development administration contradiction Bernard Schaffer identified in 1969. Schaffer argued that the first imperative of state administrators is to conserve and protect their bureaucracies while “development” is essentially an entrepreneurial activity. Kenya’s cartels and tenderpreneurs offer proof of the term’s oxymoronic logic.

 

Everywhere the millennials look they see dead ends, or so it seems from the urban point of view. Ndii’s “Hustler Nation essay argues that multiple productivity enhancing interventions in rural areas will generate far more to youth employment and productivity than the mega project revenue vampires they have conjured up. The resources allocated to building a tech city, for example, would be better invested in interdisciplinary IT programmes hosted by universities across the country, and other nodes dedicated to addressing economic activities ripe for innovation.

Everywhere the millennials look they see dead ends, or so it seems from the urban point of view. Ndii’s “Hustler Nation” essay argues that multiple productivity enhancing interventions in rural areas will generate far more to youth employment and productivity than the mega project revenue vampires they have conjured up.

These are the kind of issues that the millennial generation intellectuals and activists would do well to explore and debate. Their future, if not present welfare, will likely depend on developing creative developmental formulae consistent with the region’s historical trajectory and distinctive socio-cultural variation. A shift in this direction is beginning to gather speed on the county level, where the stakeholders are much better situated to generate the adaptive policies needed to maximise the demographic dividend.

In any event, we now know that progress is more a function of trial and error than the strategic planning processes and interventions managed by actors who remain insulated from their failures and unintended consequences. Devolution generates local initiatives, like the Makueni County public health revolution, which can be replicated and tweaked to fit the conditions in other settings.

Considering the obsession with branding of almost every Kenyan enterprise, with its vision and mission statements, more expansive thinking on these issues is one area where The Elephant’s Millennial Edition articles came up short. But they are not, as David Ndii contended, “on their own”. In addition to their rural age-mates, there is a growing transnational movement out there that is beginning to coalesce into a mass generational movement.

I hope it happens. Africa does need to regain its rightful place in the world, and someone needs to rescue the species from the Trumpian values of late capitalism.

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Dr. Goldsmith is an American researcher and writer who has lived in Kenya for over 40 years.

Politics

A Dictator’s Guide: How Museveni Wins Elections and Reproduces Power in Uganda

Caricatures aside, how do President Yoweri Museveni and the National Revolutionary Movement state reproduce power? It’s been 31 years.

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Recent weeks have seen increased global media attention to Uganda following the incidents surrounding the arrest of popular musician and legislator, Bobi Wine; emblematic events that have marked the shrinking democratic space in Uganda and the growing popular struggles for political change in the country.

The spotlight is also informed by wider trends across the continent over the past few years—particularly the unanticipated fall of veteran autocrats Muammar Gaddafi in Libya, Hosni Mubarak in Egypt, Yaya Jammeh in Gambia, and most recently Robert Mugabe in Zimbabwe—which led to speculation about whether Yoweri Museveni, in power in Uganda since 1986, might be the next to exit this shrinking club of Africa’s strongmen.

Yet the Museveni state, and the immense presidential power that is its defining characteristic, has received far less attention, thus obscuring some of the issues at hand. Comprehending its dynamics requires paying attention to at-least three turning points in the National Resistance Movement’s history, which resulted in a gradual weeding-out of Museveni’s contemporaries and potential opponents from the NRM, then the mobilisation of military conflict to shore up regime legitimacy, and the policing of urban spaces to contain the increasingly frequent signals of potential revolution. Together, these dynamics crystallised presidential power in Uganda, run down key state institutions, and set the stage for the recent tensions and likely many more to come.

The purge

From the late 1990s, there has been a gradual weeding out the old guard in the NRM, which through an informal “succession queue,” had posed an internal challenge to the continuity of Museveni’s rule. It all started amidst the heated debates in the late 1990s over the reform of the then decaying Movement system; debates that pitted a younger club of reformists against an older group. The resultant split led to the exit of many critical voices from the NRM’s ranks, and began to bolster Museveni’s grip on power in a manner that was unprecedented. It also opened the lid on official corruption and the abuse of public offices.

Over the years, the purge also got rid of many political and military elites—the so-called “historicals”—many of whom shared Museveni’s sense of entitlement to political office rooted in their contribution to the 1980-1985 liberation war, and some of whom probably had an eye on his seat.

By 2005 the purge was at its peak; that year the constitutional amendment that removed presidential term limits—passed after a bribe to every legislator—saw almost all insiders that were opposed to it, summarily dismissed. As many of them joined the ranks of the opposition, Museveni’s inner circle was left with mainly sycophants whose loyalty was more hinged on patronage than anything else. Questioning the president or harboring presidential ambitions within the NRM had become tantamount to a crime.

By 2011 the process was almost complete, with the dismissal of Vice President Gilbert Bukenya, whose growing popularity among rural farmers was interpreted as a nascent presidential bid, resulting in his firing.

One man remained standing, Museveni’s long-time friend Amama Mbabazi. His friendship with Museveni had long fueled rumors that he would succeed “the big man” at some point. In 2015, however, his attempt to run against Museveni in the ruling party primaries also earned him an expulsion from both the secretary general position of the ruling party as well as the prime ministerial office.

The departure of Mbabazi marked the end of any pretensions to a succession plan within the NRM. He was unpopular, with a record tainted by corruption scandals and complicity in Museveni’s authoritarianism, but his status as a “president-in-waiting” had given the NRM at least the semblance of an institution that could survive beyond Museveni’s tenure, which his firing effectively ended.

What is left now is perhaps only the “Muhoozi project,” a supposed plan by Museveni to have his son Muhoozi Kainerugaba succeed him. Lately it has been given credence by the son’s rapid rise to commanding positions in elite sections of the Ugandan military. But with an increasingly insecure Museveni heavily reliant on familial relationships and patronage networks, even the Muhoozi project appears very unlikely. What is clear, though, is that the over time, the presidency has essentially become Museveni’s property.

Exporting peace?

Fundamental to Museveni’s personalisation of power also has been the role of military conflict, both local and regional. First was the rebellion by Joseph Kony’s Lord’s Resistance Army in northern Uganda, which over its two-decade span enabled a continuation of the military ethos of the NRM. The war’s dynamics were indeed complex, and rooted in a longer history that predated even the NRM government, but undoubtedly it provided a ready excuse for the various shades of authoritarianism that came to define Museveni’s rule.

With war ongoing in the north, any challenge to Museveni’s rule was easily constructed as a threat to the peace already secured in the rest of the country, providing an absurd logic for clamping down on political opposition. More importantly, the emergency state born of it, frequently provided a justification for the president to side-step democratic institutions and processes, while at the same time rationalising the government’s disproportionate expenditure on the military. It also fed into Museveni’s self-perception as a “freedom fighter,” buttressed the personality cult around him, and empowered him to further undermine any checks on his power.

By the late 2000s the LRA war was coming to an end—but another war had taken over its function just in time. From the early 2000s, Uganda’s participation in a regional security project in the context of the War on Terror, particularly in the Somalian conflict, rehabilitated the regime’s international image and provided cover for the narrowing political space at home, as well as facilitating a further entrenchment of Museveni’s rule.

As post-9/11 Western foreign policy began to prioritise stability over political reform, Museveni increasingly postured as the regional peacemaker, endearing himself to donors while further sweeping the calls for democratic change at home under the carpet—and earning big from it.

It is easy to overlook the impact of these military engagements, but the point is that together they accentuated the role of the military in Ugandan politics and further entrenched Museveni’s power to degrees that perhaps even the NRM’s own roots in a guerrilla movement could never have reached.

Policing protest

The expulsion of powerful elites from the ruling circles and the politicisation of military conflict had just started to cement Musevenism, when a new threat emerged on the horizon. It involved not the usual antagonists—gun-toting rebels or ruling party elites—but ordinary protesters. And they were challenging the NRM on an unfamiliar battleground—not in the jungles, but on the streets: the 2011 “Walk-to-Work” protests, rejecting the rising fuel and food prices, were unprecedented.

But there is another reason the protests constituted a new threat. For long the NRM had mastered the art of winning elections. The majority constituencies were rural, and allegedly strongholds of the regime. The electoral commission itself was largely answerable to Museveni. With rural constituencies in one hand and the electoral body in the other, the NRM could safely ignore the minority opposition-dominated urban constituencies. Electoral defeat thus never constituted a threat to the NRM, at least at parliamentary and presidential levels.

But now the protesters had turned the tables, and were challenging the regime immediately after one of its landslide victories. The streets could not be rigged. In a moment, they had shifted the locus of Ugandan politics from the rural to the urban, and from institutional to informal spaces. And they were picking lessons from a strange source: North Africa. There, where Museveni’s old friend Gaddafi, among others, was facing a sudden exit under pressure from similar struggles. Things could quickly get out of hand. A strategic response was urgent.

The regime went into overdrive. The 2011 protests were snuffed out, and from then, the policing of urban spaces became central to the logic and working of the Museveni state. Draconian laws on public assembly and free speech came into effect, enacted by a rubber-stamp parliament that was already firmly in Museveni’s hands. Police partnered with criminal gangs, notably the Boda Boda 2010, to curb what was called “public disorder”—really the official name for peaceful protest. As police’s mandate expanded to include the pursuit of regime critics, its budget ballooned, and its chief, General Kale Kayihura, became the most powerful person after Museveni—before his recent dismissal.

For a while, the regime seemed triumphant. Organising and protest became virtually impossible, as urban areas came under 24/7 surveillance. Moreover, key state institutions—the parliament, electoral commission, judiciary, military and now the police—were all in the service of the NRM, and all voices of dissent had been effectively silenced. In time, the constitution would be amended again, by the NRM-dominated house, this time to remove the presidential age limit—the last obstacle to Museveni’s life presidency—followed by a new tax on social media, to curb “gossip.” Museveni was now truly invincible. Or so it seemed.

But the dreams of “walk-to-work”—the nightmare for the Museveni state—had never really disappeared, and behind the tightly-patrolled streets always lay the simmering quest for change. That is how we arrived at the present moment, with a popstar representing the widespread aspiration for better government, and a seemingly all-powerful president suddenly struggling for legitimacy. Whatever direction the current popular struggles ultimately take, what is certain is that they are learning well from history, and are a harbinger of many more to come.

This post is from a new partnership between Africa Is a Country and The Elephant. We will be publishing a series of posts from their site once a week.

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Politics

The Enduring Blind Spots of America’s Africa Policy

America should move way from making the military the face of its engagement with Africa and instead invest in deepening democracy as a principled approach rather than a convenient choice.

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The Enduring Blind Spots of America's Africa Policy
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While Donald Trump’s administration completely neglected America-Africa relations, the blind spots bedeviling America’s Africa policy preceded his 2016 election. Correcting the systemic flaws of the past 30 years will require a complete rethink after the controversial President’s departure.

To remedy America’s Africa policy, President Joseph Biden’s administration should pivot away from counterterrorism to supporting democratic governance as a principal rather than as mere convenience, and cooperate with China on climate change, peace, and security on the continent.

America’s Africa policy 

America’s post-Cold War Africa policy has had three distinct and discernible phases. The first phase was an expansionist outlook undergirded by humanitarian intervention. The second was nonintervention, a stance triggered by the experience of the first phase. The third is the use of “smart” military interventions using military allies.  

The turning point for the first phase was in 1989 when a victorious America pursued an expansive foreign policy approach predicated on humanitarian intervention. Somalia became the first African test case of this policy when, in 1992, America sent almost 30,000 troops to support Operation Restore Hope’s humanitarian mission which took place against the background of the collapse of the Somalia government in 1991.

On 3-4 October 1993, during the Battle of Mogadishu, 18 US servicemen were killed in a fight with warlords who controlled Mogadishu then, and the bodies of the marines dragged through the streets of Mogadishu. The media coverage increased pressure on the politicians and six months later America withdrew from Somalia — a case of the New World Order meeting the harsh reality of civil conflict.

The chastening experience resulted in America scaling back its involvement in internal conflicts in far-flung places. The result was the emergence of the second phase — non-engagement when Rwanda’s Genocide erupted in 1994 and almost a million people died in 100 days revealed the limitations of over-correcting the Somalia experience. This “non-interference” phase lasted until the twin Nairobi and Dar es Salaam US embassy bombings by Al Qaeda in 1998.

This gave way to the third phase with the realisation that the new threat to America was no longer primarily from state actors, but from transnational non-state actors using failing states as safe havens. The 2002 National Security Strategy states: “the events of September 11, 2001, taught us that weak states . . . can pose as a great danger to our national interests as strong states.”

Counterterrorism training and equipping of African militaries is the central plank of this new security policy. As a result, counterterrorism funding has skyrocketed as has America’s military footprint in Africa. As a result, Africa has become the theatre in which the Global forever War on Terror is fought.

The counterterrorism traps 

The reflexive reaction to the events of September 11 2001 spawned an interlocking web of covert and overt military and non-military operations. These efforts, initially deemed necessary and temporary, have since morphed into a self-sustaining system complete with agencies, institutions and a specialised lingo that pervades every realm of America’s engagement with Africa.

The United States Africa Command (Africom) is the vehicle of America’s engagement with the continent. Counterterrorism blurred the line between security, development, and humanitarian assistance with a host of implications including unrelenting militarisation which America’s policy establishment embraced uncritically as the sine qua non of America’s diplomacy, their obvious flaws notwithstanding. The securitisation of problems became self-fulfilling and self-sustaining.

The embrace of counterterrorism could not have come at a worse time for Africa’s efforts at democratization. In many African countries, political and military elites have now developed a predictable rule-based compact governing accession to power via elections rather than the coups of the past.

“Smart” African leaders exploited the securitised approach in two main ways: closing the political space and criminalising dissent as “terrorism” and as a source of free money. In Ethiopia, Yonatan Tesfaye, a former spokesman of the Semayawi (Blue) Party, was detained in December 2015 on charges under Article 4 of Ethiopia’s Anti-Terrorism Proclamation ((EATP), arguably one of the the country’s most severe pieces of legislation. But Ethiopia has received millions of dollars from the United States.

The Department of Defense hardly says anything in public but gives out plenty of money without asking questions about human rights and good governance. Being a counterterrorism hub has become insurance policy against any form of criticism regardless of state malfeasance.

Egypt is one such hub. According to the Congressional Research Service, for the 2021 financial year, the Trump Administration has requested a total of US$1.4 billion in bilateral assistance for Egypt, which Congress approved in 2018 and 2019. Nearly all US funding for Egypt comes from the Foreign Military Finance (FMF) account and is in turn used to purchase military equipment of US origin, spare parts, training, and maintenance from US firms.

Another country that is a counterterrorism hub in the Horn of Africa is Ethiopia. For the few months they were in charge, the Union of Islamic Courts (ICU) brought order and stability to the country.  Although they were linked to only a few of Mogadishu’s local courts, on 24 December 2006, Ethiopia’s military intervened in Somalia to contain the rise of Al Shabaab’s political and military influence.

The ouster of the ICU by Ethiopia aggravated the deep historical enmity between Somalia and Ethiopia, something Al Shabaab — initially the youth wing of the ICU — subsequently exploited through a mix of Somali nationalism, Islamist ideology, and Western anti-imperialism. Al Shabaab presented themselves as the vanguard against Ethiopia and other external aggressors, providing the group with an opportunity to translate their rhetoric into action.

Ethiopia’s intervention in Somalia could not have taken place without America’s blessing. The intervention took place three weeks after General John Abizaid, the commander of US forces from the Middle East to Afghanistan, met with the then Ethiopian Prime Minister Meles Zenawi.  The intervention generated a vicious self-sustaining loop. Ethiopians are in Somalia because of Al Shabaab, and Al Shabaab says they will continue fighting as long as foreign troops are inside Somalia.

America has rewarded Ethiopia handsomely for its role as the Horn of Africa’s policeman. In both Ethiopia’s and Egypt’s case, on the score of human rights and good governance, the net losers are the citizens.

Drone attacks 

In keeping with the War on Terror being for forever, and despite departing Somalia in 1993, America outsourced a massive chunk of the fight against Al Shabaab to Ethiopia primarily, and later, to AMISOM. America is still engaged in Somalia where it has approximately 800 troops, including special forces that help train Somalia’s army to fight against Al Shabaab.

America carried out its first drone strike in Somalia in 2011 during President Barack Obama’s tenure. Under the Trump administration, however, the US has dramatically increased the frequency of drone attacks and loosened the oversight required to approve strike targets in Somalia. In March 2017, President Trump secretly designated parts of Somalia “areas of active hostilities”, meaning that the high-level inter-agency vetting of proposed strikes and the need to demonstrate with near certainty that civilians would not be injured or killed no longer applied. Last year, the US acknowledged conducting 63 airstrikes in the country, and in late August last year, the US admitted that it had carried out 46 strikes in 2020.

A lack of transparency regarding civilian casualties and the absence of empirical evidence that the strikes lead to a reduction in terrorism in Somalia suggest that expanding to Kenya would be ill-advised. The US has only acknowledged having caused civilian casualties in Somalia three times. Between 2016 and 2019, AFRICOM failed to conduct a single interview with civilian witnesses of its airstrikes in Somalia.

Despite this level of engagement, defeating Al Shabaab remains a remote possibility.

Containing the Chinese takeover 

The Trump Administration did not have an Africa policy. The closest approximation of a policy during Trump’s tenure was stated in a speech delivered by John Bolton at a Conservative think tank decrying  China’s nefarious activities in Africa.  Even with a policy, where the counterterrorism framework views Africa as a problem to be solved by military means, the containing China policy views African countries as lacking the agency to act in their own interests. The problem with this argument is that it is patronising; Africans cannot decide what is right for them.

Over the last decades, while America was busy creating the interlocking counterterrorism infrastructure in Africa, China was building large-scale infrastructure across the continent. Where America sees Africa as a problem to be solved, China sees Africa as an opportunity to be seized.

Almost two years into the Trump administration, there were no US ambassadors deployed in 20 of Africa’s 54 countries even while America was maintaining a network of 29 military bases.  By comparison China, has 50 embassies spread across Africa.

For three consecutive years America’s administration has proposed deep and disproportionate cuts to diplomacy and development while China has doubled its foreign affairs budget since 2011. In 2018, China increased its funding for diplomacy by nearly 16 per cent and its funding for foreign aid by almost 7 per cent.

As a show of how engagement with Africa is low on the list of US priorities, Trump appointed a luxury handbag designer as America’s ambassador to South Africa on 14 November 2018. Kenya’s ambassador is a political appointee who, when he is not sparring with Kenyans on Twitter, is supporting a discredited coal mining project.

The US anti-China arguments emphasize that China does not believe in human rights and good governance, and that China’s funding of large infrastructure projects is essentially debt-trap diplomacy. The anti-China rhetoric coming from American officials is not driven by altruism but by the realisation that they have fallen behind China in Africa.

By the middle of this century Africa’s population is expected to double to roughly two billion. Nigeria will become the second most populous country globally by 2100, behind only India. The 24-country African Continental Free Trade Agreement (AfCFTA) entered into force on 30 May 2019. AfCFTA will ultimately bring together all 55 member states of the African Union covering a market of more than 1.2 billion people — including a growing middle class — and a combined gross domestic product (GDP) of more than US$3.4 trillion.

While Chinese infrastructure projects grab the headlines, China has moved into diversifying its engagement with Africa. The country has increased its investments in Africa by more than 520 per cent over the last 15 years, surpassing the US as the largest trading partner for Africa in 2009 and becoming the top exporter to 19 out of 48 countries in sub-Saharan Africa.

Some of the legacy Chinese investments have come at a steep environmental price and with an unsustainable debt. Kenya’s Standard Gauge Railway is bleeding money and is economically unviable.

A fresh start

Supporting democratic governance and learning to cooperate with China are two areas that will make America part of Africa’s future rather than its past.

America should pivot way from making the military the most visible face of its engagement with Africa and instead invest in deepening democracy as a principled approach rather than a convenient choice.

Despite the elegy about its retreat in Africa, democracy enjoys tremendous support. According to an Afro barometer poll, almost 70 per cent of Africans say democracy is their preferred form of government. Large majorities also reject alternative authoritarian regimes such as presidential dictatorships, military rule, and one-party governments. Democracy, while still fledgling, remains a positive trend; since 2015, there have been 34 peaceful transfers of power.

However, such positive metrics go hand in hand with a worrying inclination by presidents to change constitutions to extend their terms in office. Since 2015, leaders of 13 countries have evaded or overseen the weakening of term limit restrictions that had been in place. Democracy might be less sexy, but ignoring it is perilous. There are no apps or switches to flip to arrest this slide. It requires hard work that America is well equipped to support but has chosen not to in a range of countries in recent years There is a difference between interfering in the internal affairs of a country and complete abdication or (in some cases) supporting leaders who engage in activities that are inimical to deepening democracy.

The damage wrought by the Trump presidency and neo-liberal counterterrorism policies will take time to undo, but symbolic efforts can go a long way to bridging the gap.

America must also contend with China being an indispensable player in Africa and learn to cooperate rather than compete in order to achieve optimal outcomes.

China has 2,458 military and police personnel serving in eight missions around the globe, far more than the combined contribution of personnel by the other four permanent members of the UN Security Council, Russia, the US, France and Britain. China had more than 2,400 Chinese troops take part in seven UN peacekeeping missions across the continent — most notably in Mali and South Sudan. Of the 14 current UN peacekeeping missions, seven are in Africa, consuming two-thirds of the budget.

Climate change and conflict resolution provide opportunities for cooperation. Disproportionate reliance on rain-fed agriculture and low adaptation to the adverse impact of climate change make Africa vulnerable to the damaging effects of climate change, the consequences of which will transcend Africa. Through a combination of research, development, technological transfer and multilateral investment, America and China could stave off the impact of climate change in Africa.

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Hijacking Kenya’s Health Spending: Companies Linked to Powerful MP Received Suspicious Procurement Contracts

Two obscure companies linked to Kitui South MP Rachael Kaki Nyamai were paid at least KSh24.2 million to deliver medical supplies under single-source agreements at the time the MP was chair of the National Assembly’s Health Committee.

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Hijacking Kenya’s Health Spending: Companies Linked to Powerful MP Received Suspicious Procurement Contracts
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Two obscure companies linked to Kitui South MP Rachael Kaki Nyamai were paid at least KSh24.2 million to deliver medical supplies under single-source agreements at the time the MP was chair of the National Assembly’s Health Committee, an investigation by Africa Uncensored and The Elephant has uncovered.

One of the companies was also awarded a mysterious Ksh 4.3 billion agreement to supply 8 million bottles of hand sanitizer, according to the government’s procurement system.

The contracts were awarded in 2015 as authorities moved to contain the threat from the Ebola outbreak that was ravaging West Africa and threatening to spread across the continent as well as from flooding related to the El-Nino weather phenomenon.

The investigation found that between 2014 and 2016, the Ministry of Health handed out hundreds of questionable non-compete tenders related to impending disasters, with a total value of KSh176 billion including three no-bid contracts to two firms, Tira Southshore Holdings Limited and Ameken Minewest Company Limited, linked to Mrs Nyamai, whose committee oversaw the ministry’s funding – a clear conflict of interest.

Number of Suppliers Allocated BPAAlthough authorities have since scrutinized some of the suspicious contracts and misappropriated health funds, the investigation revealed a handful of contracts that were not made public, nor questioned by the health committee.

Mrs Nyamai declined to comment for the story.

Nyamai has been accused by fellow members of parliament of thwarting an investigation of a separate alleged fraud. In 2016, a leaked internal audit report accused the Ministry of Health — colloquially referred to for its location at Afya House — of misappropriating funds in excess of nearly $60 million during the 2015/2016 financial year. Media stories described unauthorized suppliers, fraudulent transactions, and duplicate payments, citing the leaked document.

Members of the National Assembly’s Health Committee threatened to investigate by bringing the suppliers in for questioning, and then accused Nyamai, the committee chairperson, of blocking their probe. Members of the committee signed a petition calling for the removal of Nyamai and her deputy, but the petition reportedly went missing. Nyamai now heads the National Assembly’s Committee on Lands.

Transactions for companies owned by Mrs Nyamai’s relatives were among 25,727 leaked procurement records reviewed by reporters from Africa Uncensored, Finance Uncovered, The Elephant, and OCCRP. The data includes transactions by eight government agencies between August 2014 and January 2018, and reveals both questionable contracts as well as problems that continue to plague the government’s accounting tool, IFMIS.

The Integrated Financial Management Information System was adopted to improve efficiency and accountability. Instead, it has been used to fast-track corruption.

Hand sanitizer was an important tool in fighting transmission of Ebola, according to a WHO health expert. In one transaction, the Ministry of Health paid Sh5.4 million for “the supply of Ebola reagents for hand sanitizer” to a company owned by a niece of the MP who chaired the parliamentary health committee. However, it’s unclear what Ebola reagents, which are meant for Ebola testing, have to do with hand sanitizer. Kenya’s Ministry of Health made 84 other transactions to various vendors during this period, earmarked specifically for Ebola-related spending. These included:

  • Public awareness campaigns and adverts paid to print, radio and tv media platforms, totalling at least KSh122 million.
  • Printed materials totalling at least KSh214 million for Ebola prevention and information posters, contact tracing forms, technical guideline and point-of-entry forms, brochures and decision charts, etc. Most of the payments were made to six obscure companies.
  • Ebola-related pharmaceutical and non-pharmaceutical supplies, including hand sanitizer
  • Ebola-related conferences, catering, and travel expenses
  • At least KSh15 millions paid to a single vendor for isolation beds

Hacking the System

Tira Southshore Holdings Limited and Ameken Minewest Company Limited, appear to have no history of dealing in hygiene or medical supplies. Yet they were awarded three blanket purchase agreements, which are usually reserved for trusted vendors who provide recurring supplies such as newspapers and tea, or services such as office cleaning.

“A blanket agreement is something which should be exceptional, in my view,” says former Auditor-General, Edward Ouko.

But the leaked data show more than 2,000 such agreements, marked as approved by the heads of procurement in various ministries. About KSh176 billion (about $1.7 billion) was committed under such contracts over 42 months.

“Any other method of procurement, there must be competition. And in this one there is no competition,” explained a procurement officer, who spoke generally about blanket purchase agreements on background. “You have avoided sourcing.”

The Ministry of Health did not respond to detailed questions, while Mrs Nyamai declined to comment on the contracts in question.

Procurement experts say blanket purchase agreements are used in Kenya to short-circuit the competitive process. A ministry’s head of procurement can request authority from the National Treasury to create blanket agreements for certain vendors. Those companies can then be asked by procurement employees to deliver supplies and services without competing for a tender.

Once in the system, these single-source contracts are prone to corruption, as orders and payments can simply be made without the detailed documentation required under standard procurements. With limited time and resources, government auditors say they struggle especially with reconciling purchases made under blanket agreements.

The agreements were almost always followed by standard purchase orders that indicated the same vendor and the same amount which is unusual and raises fears of duplication. Some of these transactions were generated days or weeks after the blanket agreements, many with missing or mismatched explanations. It’s unclear whether any of these actually constituted duplicate payments.

For example, the leaked data show two transactions for Ameken Minewest for Sh6.9 million each — a blanket purchase order for El Nino mitigation supplies and a standard order for the supply of chlorine tablets eight days later. Tira Southshore also had two transactions of Sh12 million each — a blanket purchase for the “supply of lab reagents for cholera,” and six days later a standard order for the supply of chlorine powder.

Auditors say both the amounts and the timing of such payments are suspicious because blanket agreements should be paid in installments.

“It could well be a duplicate, using the same information, to get through the process. Because you make a blanket [agreement], then the intention is to do duplicates, so that it can pass through the cash payee phase several times without delivering more,” said Ouko upon reviewing some of the transactions for Tira Southshore. This weakness makes the IFMIS system prone to abuse, he added.

In addition, a KSh4 billion contract for hand sanitizer between the Health Ministry’s Preventive and Promotive Health Department and Tira Southshore was approved as a blanket purchase agreement in April 2015. The following month, a standard purchase order was generated for the same amount but without a description of services — this transaction is marked in the system as incomplete. A third transaction — this one for 0 shillings — was generated 10 days later by the same procurement employee, using the original order description: “please supply hand sanitizers 5oomls as per contract Moh/dpphs/dsru/008/14-15-MTC/17/14-15(min.no.6).

Reporters were unable to confirm whether KSh4 billion was paid by the ministry. The leaked data doesn’t include payment disbursement details, and the MOH has not responded to requests for information.

“I can assure you there’s no 4 billion, not even 1 billion. Not even 10 million that I have ever done, that has ever gone through Tira’s account, through that bank account,” said the co-owner of the company, Abigael Mukeli. She insisted that Tira Southshore never had a contract to deliver hand sanitizer, but declined to answer specific questions. It is unclear how a company without a contract would appear as a vendor in IFMIS, alongside contract details.

It is possible that payments could end up in bank accounts other than the ones associated with the supplier. That is because IFMIS also allowed for the creation of duplicate suppliers, according to a 2016 audit of the procurement system. That audit found almost 50 cases of duplication of the same vendor.

“Presence of active duplicate supplier master records increases the possibility of potential duplicate payments, misuse of bank account information, [and] reconciliation issues,” the auditors warned.

They also found such blatant security vulnerabilities as ghost and duplicate login IDs, deactivated requirements for password resets, and remote access for some procurement employees.

Credit: Edin Pasovic/OCCRP

Credit: Edin Pasovic/OCCRP

IFMIS was promoted as a solution for a faster procurement process and more transparent management of public funds. But the way the system was installed and used in Kenya compromised its extolled safeguards, according to auditors.

“There is a human element in the system,” said Ouko. “So if the human element is also not working as expected then the system cannot be perfect.”

The former head of the internal audit unit at the health ministry, Bernard Muchere, confirmed in an interview that IFMIS can be manipulated.

Masking the Setup

Ms Mukeli, the co-owner of Tira Southshore and Ameken Minewest, is the niece of Mrs Nyamai, according to local sources and social media investigation, although she denied the relationship to reporters. According to her LinkedIn profile, Ms Mukeli works at Kenya Medical Supplies Agency, a medical logistics agency under the Ministry of Health, now embroiled in a COVID procurement scandal.

Ms Mukeli’s mother, who is the MP’s elder sister, co-owns Icpher Consultants Company Ltd., which shares a post office box with Tira Southshore and Mematira Holdings Limited, which was opened in 2018, is co-owned by Mrs Nyamai’s husband and daughter, and is currently the majority shareholder of Ameken Minewest. Documents also show that a company called Icpher Consultants was originally registered to the MP, who was listed as the beneficial owner.

Co-owner of Tira Southshore Holdings Limited, Abigael Mukeli, described the company to reporters as a health consulting firm. However Tira Southshore also holds an active exploration license for the industrial mining in a 27-square-kilometer area in Kitui County, including in the restricted South Kitui National Reserve. According to government records, the application for mining limestone in Mutomo sub-county — Nyamai’s hometown — was initiated in 2015 and granted in 2018.

Mukeli is also a minority owner of Ameken Minewest Company Limited, which also holds an active mining license in Mutomo sub-county of Kitui, in an area covering 135.5 square kilometers. Government records show that the application for the mining of limestone, magnesite, and manganese was initiated in 2015 and granted in 2018. Two weeks after the license was granted, Mematira Holdings Limited was incorporated, with Nyamai’s husband and daughter as directors. Today, Mematira Holdings is the majority shareholder of Ameken Minewest, which is now in the process of obtaining another mining license in Kitui County.

According to public documents, Ameken also dabbles in road works and the transport of liquefied petroleum gas. And it’s been named by the Directorate of Criminal Investigations in a fuel fraud scheme.

Yet another company, Wet Blue Proprietors Logistics Ltd., shares a phone number with Tira Southshore and another post office box with Icpher Consultants Company Ltd., according to a Kenya National Highway Authority list of pre-qualified vendors.

Family LinksMrs Nyamai and her husband co-own Wet Blue. The consulting company was opened in 2010, the same year that the lawmaker completed her PhD work in HIV/AIDS education in Denmark.

Wet Blue was licenced in 2014 as a dam contractor and supplier of water, sewerage, irrigation and electromechanical works. It’s also listed by KENHA as a vetted consultant for HIV/AIDS mitigation services, together with Icpher Consultants.

It is unclear why these companies are qualified to deliver all these services simultaneously.

“Shell companies receiving contracts in the public sector in Kenya have enabled corruption, fraud and tax evasion in the country. They are literally special purpose vehicles to conduct ‘heists’ and with no track record to deliver the public goods, works or services procured,” said Sheila Masinde, executive director of Transparency International-Kenya.

Both MOH and Ms Mukeli refused to confirm whether the ordered supplies were delivered.

Mrs Nyamai also co-owns Ameken Petroleum Limited together with Alfred Agoi Masadia and Allan Sila Kithome.

Mr Agoi is an ANC Party MP for Sabatia Constituency in Vihiga County, and was on the same Health Committee as Mrs Nyamai, a Jubilee Party legislator. Mr Sila is a philanthropist who is campaigning for the Kitui County senate seat in the 2022 election.

Juliet Atellah at The Elephant and Finance Uncovered in the UK contributed reporting.

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