No politician should walk away with our money

 

There are moments when I sit down, look at the state of this country, and ask myself a simple question: when did we start accepting this as normal?

When did we become a nation that watches politicians enter office with modest means and leave with fortunes that cannot be explained?

When did we become comfortable watching public projects stall, hospitals run out of medicine, roads collapse, floods destroy homes and kill, and still allow leaders to walk away untouched and in most cases wealthier than before?

Somewhere along the way, we developed a strange tolerance for public theft. Not approval, of course. Kenyans complain loudly. We argue online. We shake our heads at the news. But in the end, the system rarely forces anyone to return what was lost. And that is the real problem.

Because public money is not theoretical. It is not numbers on paper. It is money collected from the daily struggle of ordinary Kenyans. It is deducted from salaries before people even touch their earnings. It is paid through taxes on fuel, on food, on business transactions, on almost every corner of economic life. That money carries sweat. So when I hear leaders dismiss questions about billions of shillings disappearing or being mismanaged, it does something to me. It's insulting.

Recently, the findings of the Office of the Auditor General were brushed aside by the highest office in the land, even though the report raised serious concerns about the possible loss of KES 50 billion within the Social Health Authority (SHA). I sat with that number for a moment.

Fifty billion shillings. That's a lot of people's salary cuts. That is not a clerical error. That is not loose change lost between spreadsheets. That is money that could equip hospitals, hire doctors, supply medicine, and build healthcare systems that actually serve citizens. And yet the response we saw was dismissal.

That is where I believe the line must be drawn. The Office of the Auditor General is not some random department that exists to annoy the government. It is a constitutional office. It exists because the Constitution of Kenya understood something fundamental: public money must always be questioned. Oversight is not an attack on government. Oversight is protection for the country.

So when a president dismisses an audit finding that raises questions about billions in public funds, I cannot stay silent about it. Because if we weaken the institutions designed to track public money, then we weaken the Constitution itself. You cannot swear to protect the Constitution on Tuesday and then undermine one of its key watchdog institutions on Wednesday simply because the findings are uncomfortable. That is not leadership.

And the truth is, Kenyans are paying the price for this culture of impunity every single day. We see it in healthcare. Hospitals that should be well funded still struggle with basic supplies. Patients buy medicine privately because public pharmacies are empty. We see it in infrastructure. Drainage systems are poorly built or never completed, and then when the rains come, cities like Nairobi flood. People lose property, businesses shut down, lives are disrupted.

We see it in education. Parents pay more and more for schooling while public schools struggle with overcrowded classrooms and limited resources. Every time money disappears from public systems, it reappears somewhere else in the form of suffering. That is the equation.

Which is why I have come to a very firm belief: no politician should leave office without full accountability for the money they handled.

If billions went missing under your watch, we should know where they went. If tenders were inflated, recover the difference from their properties. If projects were paid for but never completed, someone must pay for it. If public funds were stolen, that money should be traced and returned. Public office should never become a shortcut to personal wealth.

And yet in Kenya, that is exactly what it has become for too many leaders. People enter government speaking the language of sacrifice and patriotism. Years later they exit office with unexplained riches while the country they served remains struggling. Then they reinvent themselves as political elders, advisers, or power brokers.

It is absurd.

Imagine working your entire life, paying taxes every single year, only to watch those taxes become someone else’s private fortune. Imagine being told to tighten your belt while those in power loosen theirs. At some point, citizens must decide that enough is enough. We cannot keep complaining about corruption while allowing every political exit to be a clean escape. Public service must come with consequences when public resources are abused.

If leaders know that leaving office will trigger deep audits, financial scrutiny, and potential recovery of stolen funds, behavior will change. Accountability changes conduct. But if leaders know that all they have to do is survive the political cycle and they will walk away untouched, then the incentive to loot will always remain. This is why I refuse to normalize it anymore. I refuse to treat missing billions as ordinary headlines.

I refuse to accept that politicians can dismiss constitutional oversight institutions whenever it suits them. And I refuse to believe that Kenyans are powerless to demand better.

Because the truth is simple: this country belongs to its citizens, not to the people temporarily occupying office. Public money is not government money. It is our money. And no leader no matter how powerful should be allowed to walk away with it.