We Break What We Borrow: Why Kenyans Don’t Respect What Isn’t Theirs

If there is one undeniable truth about Kenya, it is this: people rarely take care of what isn’t theirs. Cars, rental houses, borrowed electronics, even public infrastructure—whatever doesn’t bear your name is treated like disposable property. This is not a small problem. It is a symptom of a deeper cultural decay, a reflection of a society where accountability is optional and respect is conditional.

Take the car hire business, for example. Imagine buying a clean, well-maintained Atenza Wagon 2.2D. It is spotless, running perfectly, a symbol of your hard work and investment. You trust that clients will return it in the same condition. Yet week after week, the car comes back scratched, dented, sometimes running low on fuel, or worse—driven recklessly like it belongs to them. And it isn’t just an isolated incident; this is the reality for car hire businesses across Kenya. Vehicles are treated as disposable commodities, and every scratch or dent becomes an expected cost of doing business. The lack of care isn’t born of ignorance—it’s born of a mindset that what isn’t yours, does not matter.

A Pattern Across Society

This attitude stretches far beyond cars. Look around:

• Housing: Tenants routinely trash rental units, leaving walls cracked, floors stained, and furniture broken. Gardens are destroyed, electrical fittings sabotaged, and plumbing fixtures ignored. It seems that once a lease is signed, the property enters a gray zone where accountability ceases to exist. “It’s not mine,” tenants shrug, and landlords are left with the expense and headache of restoration. This is not carelessness; it is a deep-seated disregard for responsibility.

• Public property: Streetlights are torn down, public benches vandalized, buses stripped or damaged. Roads are littered, government buildings defaced, and public toilets treated like garbage dumps. Every stolen street sign or broken traffic light tells the same story: society does not care for what belongs to all, because shared ownership is not treated as responsibility.

• Shared resources: Borrowed electronics, tools, or even money are often mismanaged, misused, or forgotten. Loans are never repaid, items returned in worse condition, and promises are broken with impunity. There is a general belief that if something isn’t explicitly yours, your accountability ends the moment you take possession.

This is more than a behavioral problem—it is a cultural problem. Across Kenya, there is an unspoken understanding that property without a name is disposable, temporary, and not worth respect. And when everyone around you behaves the same way, the cycle perpetuates itself, normalizing carelessness and dishonesty.

Why This Mindset Exists

Several factors help explain this pervasive lack of accountability.

First, enforcement is weak. When there are no real consequences for misusing or destroying borrowed or shared property, people operate without fear of penalty. If a tenant can trash an apartment with little risk, or a borrower can return a car with dents and scratches knowing that the worst they face is a verbal complaint, care is no longer incentivized. Weak enforcement communicates that rules exist only on paper, and respect for property becomes optional.

Second, historical scarcity has created a survivalist mentality. For decades, many Kenyans grew up in contexts where resources were limited, and making the most of what you could claim was a necessity. When scarcity defines life, the habit of prioritizing personal gain over long-term stewardship becomes ingrained. That mindset persists even when scarcity has lessened, leaving society with habits that no longer serve communal well-being.

Third, negligence is normalized. In a society where everyone breaks or misuses what isn’t theirs, it becomes socially acceptable. The justification is simple: if my neighbor damages it, why shouldn’t I? If the government fails to protect it, why should I care? This social mimicry reinforces the idea that property outside one’s direct ownership is unworthy of respect, and everyone perpetuates the same destructive behavior.

Finally, accountability is rarely taught. Schools and families do not emphasize responsibility for shared resources. Children grow up learning to care for what they can call their own, but not what belongs to others. As adults, this lack of early education manifests as careless behavior, entitlement, and disregard for public or borrowed property.

The Impact

The consequences of this cultural decay are immense. For businesses, it translates into direct financial loss. Cars are returned damaged, tools are broken, electronics are destroyed, rental properties ruined. Entrepreneurs must constantly budget for repairs and replacements instead of investing in growth. Profit margins shrink, trust erodes, and service delivery suffers.

Landlords, too, bear the brunt. They invest in buildings, furniture, and facilities, only to have tenants disregard their property as though it were disposable. In the rental market, trust is replaced by suspicion. Deposit demands increase, screening processes become stricter, and landlords raise prices to cover inevitable losses. The result is a market where everyone pays more, and responsible tenants are unfairly penalized for the carelessness of others.

Public property suffers even more. Roads crumble faster, streetlights vanish, buses are vandalized. Government projects fail to yield long-term benefits because the society that should protect them actively degrades them. The state invests millions, yet these investments are treated as temporary, as if belonging to no one. The ultimate cost is social: communities live with broken infrastructure, diminished services, and a persistent sense that public spaces are unworthy of care.

Perhaps the most corrosive effect of this cultural decay is the erosion of trust. In Kenya, businesses, service providers, and citizens operate on suspicion rather than confidence. Lending, renting, or sharing becomes fraught with anxiety because past experiences have taught that what isn’t yours will likely be misused or damaged.

This lack of trust affects relationships, commerce, and community cohesion. Social bonds weaken when accountability is optional and dishonesty is normalized. Entrepreneurs hesitate to grow businesses that rely on public or private trust. Communities suffer as cooperation falters. The simple act of borrowing or sharing becomes a gamble, and society as a whole bears the cost.

There is also a psychological dimension. People who witness repeated carelessness begin to internalize cynicism. Citizens come to expect dishonesty, mismanagement, and destruction. Anger, frustration, and resignation become common reactions. Entrepreneurs feel powerless, tenants feel distrustful, and service providers grow weary of investing in anything beyond their immediate control.

A culture where “what isn’t yours isn’t your problem” conditions people to detach from responsibility, reducing empathy and social solidarity. Over time, this becomes a vicious cycle: carelessness breeds apathy, apathy breeds more carelessness, and the moral fabric of society weakens further.

A Mirror of Moral Decay

At its core, the disrespect of borrowed or public property is a mirror of moral decay. It reflects a society that values ownership above integrity, convenience above responsibility, and self-interest above community well-being. The Atenza Wagon, the rental house, the public bus—they are symbols. How they are treated tells us more about us as a society than it does about the objects themselves.

When people do not respect what isn’t theirs, they reveal something deeper: an absence of conscience, a lack of accountability, and a willingness to let societal norms degrade in favor of immediate gratification. It is not about poverty, ignorance, or necessity alone; it is about culture, attitude, and the unspoken rules that guide behavior.

Everyday Examples

Walk through Nairobi’s streets, or the highways connecting Kisumu to Nairobi, or the rural towns dotted with public buildings and infrastructure. Every pothole ignored, every sign stolen, every borrowed item broken tells the same story: a society that tolerates carelessness, excuses negligence, and refuses to instill the value of stewardship.

Observe businesses—car hire, electronics rentals, or real estate—and you see the pattern in stark relief. Service providers live in constant anticipation of damage, loss, or misuse. Trust is conditional, built only when agreements are enforced by money or fear, not by mutual respect or cultural expectation.

Even within households, the pattern persists. Children see adults treating property carelessly. Young people grow up learning that responsibility is only for what you own. Borrowed items, shared resources, and public spaces are playgrounds for irresponsibility. It is a mindset passed down, normalized, and rarely questioned.

A Reflection Without a Fix

This is Kenya’s reality today: a society where accountability is optional, respect is conditional, and social decay thrives in the gaps between ownership and responsibility. Cars, rental properties, tools, public infrastructure—they are not just objects. They are mirrors, reflecting how we treat what belongs to others and, by extension, each other.

The cycle is pervasive, systemic, and deeply ingrained. It is a cultural pattern, a reflection of social neglect, and a symptom of moral decay. The Atenza Wagon returned scratched, the rental house trashed, the borrowed electronics damaged—these are not isolated incidents; they are part of a larger story of a society that struggles to respect, care, and take responsibility.

Until this mindset shifts, until accountability becomes a norm rather than an exception, Kenyans will continue paying the price. Not just financially, but socially and morally. Respect for property is a reflection of respect for people, community, and nation—and right now, that respect is in short supply.

We break what we borrow. And until that changes, we will continue to break ourselves along with it.