Kenya the Kiosk: How an Unpredictable Tax Regime Is Robbing Citizens of Trust

 

Kenya the Kiosk 

“Somebody said Kenya is run like a kiosk.”

It was a throwaway line on social media, but like all great satire, it stuck because it was painfully true. A kiosk is not a supermarket. It is not a store with a fixed price list, barcode scanners, receipts, or warranties. A kiosk is a place where prices are fluid, where the seller may look you up and down before deciding how much to charge. Sometimes you pay one thing, tomorrow you pay another, and if you ask why, the answer is always the same: “Bei imepanda” (the price has gone up).

That’s exactly how Kenya feels today, especially when it comes to taxation. The tax regime is not a carefully designed system built on stability and predictability. Instead, it feels like a small kiosk where the shopkeeper changes prices at will and you, the customer, must either pay up or go home empty-handed.

Every week brings a new announcement, a fresh “clarification,” or a circular from the Kenya Revenue Authority (KRA). You think you understand your obligations, only to be slapped with a notice saying you owe taxes you didn’t even know existed. You settle one issue, and another pops up, like a never-ending game of fiscal whack-a-mole.

For ordinary Kenyans, this unpredictability is not just frustrating. It is destabilizing. You cannot plan when the rules keep changing. You cannot build trust in a government that treats taxation like a surprise raid. You cannot believe in fairness when compliance feels like a lottery.

The kiosk metaphor is not just about humor; it is about truth. Because a nation run like a kiosk cannot offer its citizens dignity, stability, or a vision for the future. Instead, it breeds anxiety, mistrust, and resentment — qualities no democracy can afford.

Governance as a Kiosk Culture 

The problem of unpredictability is not limited to taxation. It is a symptom of a deeper governance culture, one that runs the state like a kiosk rather than an institution.

In Kenya, rules often change overnight. Fuel prices can rise without warning, subsidies appear and disappear, and policies are announced before they are planned. Citizens are left scrambling to adjust, with no sense of stability.

This improvisational style of governance is rooted in a culture of shortcuts and crisis management. Instead of long-term planning, we get quick fixes. Instead of policy rooted in evidence, we get policy shaped by political expediency. Instead of institutions, we get personalities — leaders whose moods dictate national direction.

The kiosk culture thrives on opacity. Just as a kiosk owner does not post a price list, the government rarely communicates clearly. Transparency is replaced with confusion, predictability with surprise. Citizens are left at the mercy of those who hold power.

This culture is dangerous. It undermines the very idea of a state as a reliable framework for life and commerce. A serious state is like a supermarket: prices are posted, rules are clear, receipts are issued. You may not like the price, but at least you know it is the same for everyone. A kiosk may be charming in the village; it is a disaster as a model for national governance.

The Moving Goalposts: Taxation Without Predictability 

One of the hallmarks of a serious government is tax predictability. A citizen should know, clearly and in advance, what they owe and when. In Kenya, however, taxation has become a guessing game.

Consider how often we see “clarifications” from KRA. A new law is passed, and almost immediately, KRA issues additional circulars explaining what the law really means. Businesses and individuals scramble to interpret shifting rules, often only to be told later that they misunderstood.

Even worse are the surprise tax demands. Many Kenyans wake up to letters claiming they owe taxes on income they didn’t know was taxable — or on past activities they assumed were compliant. Freelancers, small traders, and even salaried employees are suddenly accused of underpayment. Instead of a transparent, fair, and stable system, taxation feels like ambush.

This moving of goalposts is not only unfair, it is damaging. Imagine being a small business owner. You set prices based on current taxes, only to be told months later that your tax obligations are different from what you thought. You are forced to either absorb the cost or pass it on to customers — both of which erode your credibility.

The problem is not simply taxes being high or low. The problem is unpredictability. Even high taxes can be tolerated if they are clear, stable, and fairly enforced. But when rules keep shifting, even moderate taxes feel unbearable. Predictability is the oxygen of economic planning, and in Kenya today, it is in short supply.

The kiosk mentality thrives on this ambiguity. Just as a kiosk owner can inflate prices at whim, the state uses confusing laws and surprise enforcement to extract as much as possible from already struggling citizens. The result is not compliance but cynicism. Citizens pay when forced, evade when possible, and mistrust the system entirely.

The Cost of Uncertainty: Trust and the Economy 

When taxation becomes unpredictable, the costs extend far beyond individual frustration. They seep into the economy itself, corroding trust and weakening growth.

First, businesses cannot thrive in uncertainty. Investors, both local and foreign, need stable rules. They calculate risk, return, and cost over years — not days. If tomorrow’s tax rules could invalidate today’s investments, why would anyone commit capital in Kenya? That is why unpredictable taxation drives capital flight and discourages entrepreneurship.

Second, unpredictability breeds mistrust. Citizens begin to view the government not as a partner in nation-building, but as a predator waiting to pounce. Compliance becomes something to be avoided rather than embraced. Every letter from KRA feels like a threat, not an invitation to cooperate.

Third, unpredictability creates compliance fatigue. Small businesses already struggle with complex systems, limited financial literacy, and inadequate access to accountants or lawyers. When rules shift constantly, the cost of compliance skyrockets. People begin to conclude that it is cheaper to operate informally, outside the system altogether. This undermines the very revenue the state is chasing.

Finally, uncertainty erodes social solidarity. Taxation, at its best, is about shared responsibility. Citizens pay because they trust that their contributions will be used fairly and predictably. But when taxation feels like arbitrary extraction, citizens disengage. They do not see themselves as participants in a collective project, but as victims of a predatory state.

In this way, the kiosk mentality becomes self-defeating. Instead of raising more revenue, it creates resistance, evasion, and resentment. It is not just bad economics — it is bad politics. A government that governs through unpredictability cannot earn the loyalty of its citizens.

A Tax System of Dignity and Predictability 

Kenya does not need to insanely lower taxes to function or make the citizens happy; it needs smarter, fairer, and more predictable ones. The problem is not merely the rate but the regime.

A good tax system is built on three pillars: clarity, stability, and fairness. Clarity means that citizens know, without ambiguity, what they owe and when. Stability means that rules do not shift suddenly or retroactively. Fairness means that the burden is shared equitably, not falling hardest on those least able to pay.

Kenya can move in this direction by simplifying tax laws, investing in civic education, and committing to long-term policy stability. Instead of endless “clarifications,” laws must be written clearly in the first place. Instead of surprise demands, there should be transparent processes for dispute resolution.

But beyond technical fixes, what Kenya needs is a cultural shift. Governance must move away from the kiosk mentality and embrace institutional predictability. Citizens must see taxation not as a punishment but as a duty — one that is rewarded with transparency, fairness, and public services.

Ultimately, taxes are not just about money. They are about dignity. To be ambushed, harassed, or confused by your own government is to be denied dignity. To be treated with clarity, fairness, and predictability is to be respected as a citizen.

Kenya cannot be run like a kiosk. Nations require more. Predictability is not a luxury; it is the foundation of trust. And trust is the foundation of democracy.