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Faith Mwende

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The War on Corruption is Everyone’s Responsibility

The War on Corruption is Everyone’s Responsibility

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The War on Corruption is Everyone’s Responsibility

This month’s release of the Kenya National Gender and Corruption Survey 2025, paints a troubling picture of the state of corruption in our country. According to the findings, an overwhelming 98.6% of Kenyans who paid bribes did not report the incidents with only 1.4% taking the step to report. Among those who did, men accounted for 57.2%, while women made up 42.1%.
Equally striking is the reported average bribe amount of KSh 6,724 a figure that reflects not just the financial burden on citizens, but the normalization of corruption in everyday life.
These numbers should concern all of us. They point to a deeper crisis, a growing culture of silence and an increasing loss of public trust. When only 14.6% of Kenyans believe the government is committed to fighting corruption, it signals a dangerous disconnect between institutions and the people they serve.
Corruption in Kenya is no longer perceived as an isolated vice affecting a few sectors. It has become embedded in daily interactions at service delivery points, in procurement processes, and even in the implementation of public projects. For many citizens, paying a bribe is no longer an exception; it is seen as the only way to get things done.
This normalization is perhaps the greatest threat. It creates a cycle where public officials expect informal payments, and citizens comply out of frustration or necessity. Over time, this erodes the very foundation of public service, turning rights into privileges that must be paid for and sadly creates a culture where corruption is the new normal, a new culture.
However, corruption is not only about money exchanging hands. It also manifests in less visible but equally damaging ways. When funds are allocated to new projects while previously funded ones remain incomplete, that is corruption. When audit reports highlight misuse of resources year after year without action, that is corruption. When public office is used for personal or political gain at the expense of citizens, that too is corruption.
The persistent gap between reporting and action is what fuels public disillusionment. Reports are produced, findings are shared, but consequences are rarely felt. Without visible accountability, citizens lose faith in the system and silence becomes the default response.
If Kenya is to win the war on corruption, it must move beyond documentation to decisive action.
First, there must be consistent and visible accountability. Corruption cases whether high profile or routine must be investigated thoroughly and concluded within reasonable timelines. The recovery of stolen public resources should be prioritized, and those found culpable must face real consequences. Justice must not be selective, and it must not be delayed.
Second, society must confront its own role in sustaining corruption. The tendency to defend individuals accused of corruption simply because they are “one of us” undermines collective progress. Integrity cannot be negotiable. We must reject the culture of excusing wrongdoing based on personal, ethnic, or political affiliations.
Third, there is a need to increase transparency and accountability. Publishing sector-based corruption trends, performance scorecards, and follow-up actions on audit findings can strengthen oversight and public engagement. When citizens are informed, they are better equipped to demand accountability.
Fourth, systemic reforms are critical. Simplifying government processes, strengthening, digitizing services, and reducing unnecessary human interaction in service delivery can significantly limit opportunities for bribery. Technology, when properly implemented, can be a powerful tool in closing corruption loopholes.
Fifth, citizens must be empowered and protected to report corruption. Strengthening whistleblower protection frameworks and ensuring confidentiality in reporting mechanisms can encourage more people to come forward. Equally important is demonstrating that reports lead to action. Without this assurance, reporting will remain low.
Finally, the fight against corruption must be rooted in values. Building a culture of integrity requires sustained effort through education, leadership, and example. Integrity must be practiced at all levels of society, from public offices to households.
The 2025 survey should not be seen as just another report. It is a mirror reflecting the state of our nation. The question is whether we will act on what we see.
The responsibility to end corruption does not lie solely with government institutions. It rests with all of us leaders, citizens, and institutions alike. Each decision we make, whether to demand, give, report, or ignore corruption, shapes the kind of society we become.
Kenya stands at a critical point. Continuing on the current path risks further eroding public trust and undermining development efforts. Choosing a different path one of accountability, transparency, and integrity offers the possibility of rebuilding that trust.
The war on corruption is not won through reports. It is won through action.

Adolescent and teen Pregnancies: The silent Epidemic

Adolescent and teen Pregnancies: The silent Epidemic

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Adolescent and teen Pregnancies: The silent Epidemic

During a recent official visit to health facilities, I flipped through the Antenatal Clinic registers expecting routine entries. Instead, the ages of expectant mothers made my heart sink: 15, 14, 13, and one entry that disturbed me most, a 9 year old. Yes, a child who is about to become a mother. Picture this: by age 10, she could be a mum while still in Primary school, possibly alongside her own child. This is an interrupted childhood and sadly a story of broken dreams and aspirations.

In Kenya, adolescents aged 10 to 19 comprise around 22 percent of the population, representing the future of the nation. Yet adolescent pregnancies remain a critical societal challenge with profound public health, social and economic implications. According to the Kenya National Bureau of Statistics Kenya Demographic and Health Survey 2022, about 15 percent of girls aged 15 to 19 have ever been pregnant or given birth. Walking into an ANC waiting area, one can find pregnant girls playing while they wait, seated next to women old enough to be their mothers. It is a haunting image of a reality that is not isolated but widespread.

Health data confirm the persistence of adolescent pregnancies. In 2023, over 240,000 girls aged 10 to 19 attended ANC clinics. Yet this reflects only those who sought care. Many others may not have accessed services, and some face unsafe abortion risks. Between October 2024 and December 2025, the Social Health Authority recorded over 48,000 teenage mothers accessing services across 44 counties. This is more than a family problem. It is a national development concern, with disrupted education, health risks and limited economic prospects affecting a significant portion of our youth.

The drivers of early pregnancy are complex. At an individual level, 8 percent of girls report sexual activity before age 15. Stigma around discussing sexuality leaves adolescents without accurate information or guidance. At the family level, limited parent child communication, peer pressure and cross generational relationships increase vulnerability. Poverty, transactional relationships and harmful cultural practices such as child marriage and unequal power dynamics further weaken girls’ ability to make safe choices. Very young adolescents often intersect with sexual violence, highlighting that adolescent pregnancy is also a child protection and justice issue that requires effective enforcement of laws safeguarding children.

The consequences are severe. Adolescent mothers face higher risks of obstetric complications including hypertensive disorders and obstructed labor. Their infants are more likely to experience low birth weight or neonatal complications. Stigma and fear of judgment from health staff can also delay or prevent timely care. Education suffers as well. Despite Kenya’s school re entry policy for adolescent mothers, inconsistent implementation, childcare needs, financial constraints and stigma often push them out of school, reinforcing cycles of poverty.

Government efforts have introduced health cards and unique identifiers for teenage mothers, improving access to care and reducing financial barriers. While commendable, these are reactive measures that address consequences rather than prevention. Kenya must prioritize proactive and multisectoral solutions.

Root cause analysis is critical. Adolescents must be engaged in national dialogues to identify factors driving early pregnancies and to co create solutions based on their lived realities.

Sexuality education in schools and communities must be normalized, culturally sensitive and evidence based. It should focus on behavior change and life skills that empower young people to make informed decisions.

Adolescent friendly health services must be fully operational, offering confidential counselling, non-judgmental care, access to contraceptives and integration with HIV prevention services.

Family support. Parents should be equipped to have age appropriate conversations about sexuality, since open communication can delay sexual debut and encourage responsible choices.

Child protection laws must be enforced consistently to ensure perpetrators are held accountable and young adolescents are protected from sexual violence.

A coordinated multi sector response is essential. Clear accountability, defined roles and measurable actions must guide government and partner interventions.

Data systems strengthening. Information on all adolescent pregnancies should be available, not only those who present at health facilities. Access to social protection, health and justice services should be tracked across sectors to measure progress and ensure accountability.

Adolescent pregnancy in Kenya is not sudden or unpredictable. It is a silent epidemic that demands urgent and strategic response. Protecting adolescence is both a moral obligation and a strategic investment in our nation’s future. To harness Kenya’s demographic dividend, we must move beyond good intentions to measurable action. The next generation is watching and waiting for us to act.

 

Weekly reflection: Rethinking the Bursary Program: From Fragmentation to Harmonization

Weekly reflection: Rethinking the Bursary Program: From Fragmentation to Harmonization

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Rethinking the Bursary Program: From Fragmentation to Harmonization

January in Kenya has a familiar soundtrack. School bells ring, buses hoot, and parents scramble. Somewhere between buying uniforms and paying rent, school fees become the breaking point. Every year, some children quietly fail to report to school. Others turn to public appeals photos on social media, long queues at MPs’ offices, and desperate letters to well-wishers. It is a ritual we have normalised, even though it signals a deeper systems failure. This year was not different, in fact we recently saw a report that more than 800,000 children had not reported for Grade 10. Sad, but a reality.

Ironically, this happens in a country that has many programmes for vulnerable children. From cash transfers for orphans and vulnerable children, to bursaries from MPs, governors, counties and national agencies, to indigent health coverage under the Social Health Authority (SHA), support exists. Add scholarships from banks, philanthropists, NGOs and churches, and one would expect no child to be left behind. The problem is not lack of goodwill or funding. The problem is fragmentation.

Today, a child can qualify for social protection, need a school bursary, and require health cover, all at the same time. But because each programme operates its own rules, forms and databases, that same child can easily miss out on everything. This is what systems thinkers call a silo problem: when good programmes operate independently, the overall system performs badly.

In strengthening equity, Kenya needs to start with a simple idea: one vulnerable child, one profile. A single national registry for vulnerable children would allow government to understand need holistically rather than programme by programme.

This registry should be built with schools, local administrators, faith leaders and community structures people who know these children by name, not by file number. Community verification would reduce errors and build trust. Most importantly, the registry must be dynamic. Poverty is not permanent. A parent may lose a job today and find one tomorrow. Support systems must adjust accordingly.

Countries that have adopted integrated social registries have reduced duplication, improved targeting and saved resources. Kenya does not need to reinvent the wheel, just connect the ones we already have.

We also need to be honest about bursaries. For many families, bursary access feels like a lottery,w ho you know, where you apply, and how early you show up matters more than need. That is not social protection; that is survival by chance.

A better approach would see the Ministry of Education develop clear cost benchmarks for primary, junior secondary and day secondary education, with government covering at least 80 % of these costs. When education financing is predictable, families plan better and children stay in school.

Boarding secondary schools, which remain expensive, require a different solution. Bursary schemes here should be harmonised and regulated under a common framework to prevent duplication and thinly spread funding. MPs, counties and private sponsors would still contribute but within a system that prioritises fairness, not visibility.

Academic performance is often used as the main gatekeeper for scholarships. While merit is important, it cannot be the only measure. A student who walks long distances on an empty stomach and studies by candlelight is not competing on equal ground with one who has three meals and Wi-Fi.

Human capital theory tells us that potential emerges when constraints are removed. Some of Kenya’s brightest students are hidden behind poverty. Scholarship and bursary programmes, especially private ones, should balance performance with context, giving disadvantaged learners room to grow.

Government accountability must go beyond budgets to data transparency. How many learners fail to transition from primary to secondary school each year? and why? How many drop out due to poverty, health challenges or early pregnancy? Data should not just be collected; it should drive decisions.

Schools must also do more than prepare students for exams. Children spend most of their formative years in school. This is where values like responsibility, resilience, financial literacy and respect should be reinforced.

Which brings us to the uncomfortable issue of teen and child pregnancy. These are not just exam-period headlines. They are children becoming parents, families recycling poverty, and futures being reshaped permanently. We have the data. What we lack is sustained action and honest conversation.

Kenya’s children deserve more than fragmented support and seasonal sympathy. By harmonising social protection and bursary programmes, financing education more predictably, using data responsibly and strengthening values in schools, we can build systems that actually work.

This requires courage, coordination and candour. History will not ask how many programmes we launched. It will ask whether every child had a fair chance.

Our children deserve that chance

 

Education Equity and Universal Access

Education Equity and Universal Access

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Education Equity and Universal Access

At independence, Kenya made bold and clear commitments: end hunger, eradicate poverty, and improve access to education. These aspirations were meant to lay the foundation for an equitable and prosperous society.

More than 60 years later, it is sobering that we are still grappling with the very same challenges.

Globally, the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) echo these priorities, poverty eradication and universal access to basic education by 2030. Locally, however, recent events remind us how far we still have to go. Reports indicate that over 800,000 students transitioning to Senior Secondary School did not report in the first week, largely due to challenges such as lack of school fees and related costs.

This reality reignites a critical conversation on the true cost of education.

Education is often described as the great equalizer and rightly so. It expands opportunities, improves living standards, and breaks intergenerational cycles of poverty. Yet, when access is determined by ability to pay, education risks becoming a privilege rather than a right.

Recently, public debate was sparked by the launch of a project by a Member of Parliament proposing that students in day secondary schools pay Ksh. 500 per term (approximately USD 5). Reactions have been mixed some supportive, others questioning, opposing, or indifferent. But beyond the debate lies a much bigger and more important question:

How do we guarantee universal access to basic education for every Kenyan child, without barriers?

There is no doubt that government has a central role to play in making education both accessible and affordable. While bursaries have been instrumental and remain important, they are not without challenges particularly around transparency, equity, and identification of deserving beneficiaries. In situations where two children are equally vulnerable, what determines who benefits and who is left out?

This points to the need for a more systemic and universal approach.

One possible solution is a fully subsidized basic education model covering primary, junior secondary, and senior secondary education. Another is the harmonization of existing bursary schemes, with structured identification of needy learners at the community and school levels.

Imagine the impact if MP, County (Governor), and National Government bursaries were consolidated into a single education subsidy framework simpler, fairer, and more predictable.

Perhaps the time has come to move beyond fragmented interventions and rethink how Kenya can truly achieve universal access to basic education not as an aspiration, but as a lived reality for every child.

The question is are we ready for this conversation?



Same Tools, Different Context: Why Sustainable Development Demands Generational Rethinking

Same Tools, Different Context: Why Sustainable Development Demands Generational Rethinking

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Same Tools, Different Context: Why Sustainable Development Demands Generational Rethinking

There’s a saying: you can’t pour new wine into old wineskins. And yet, time and again, we try to solve today’s problems with yesterday’s tools and strategies. As the world spins faster, powered technology and most recently by AI, with climate change, public health concerns, pandemics and shifting work cultures , we must ask ourselves: Are we simply upgrading our tools, or are we rethinking the way we live and lead? The answer lies in how we understand generational change and how we manage change itself.

I grew up with Baby Boomer parents. That generation believed in discipline, the kind enforced with a cane. At school, home, even on the roadside, fear was used as a motivator. And sure, things “worked” but at what cost? We were raised to obey, not to ask. To fear authority, not to understand it.

Then came Generation X. They witnessed industrialization, saw systems become more complex, but carried forward that cautious, rule-bound mindset. They questioned a little, but mostly within limits.

Millennials were the first real breakers of generational patterns. They walked away from traditional careers, embraced the rise of computers and the internet, and began to question norms from gender roles to corporate ladders.

And now, Generation Z has arrived not with a whisper, but with a roar. As Kenya’s Attorney General and Deputy President recently pointed out, Gen Z is challenging everything: rigid work routines, outdated authority structures, even the very definition of success. They don’t just ask “Why?” they ask “Why not?”

They are bold, boundary-pushing, and refreshingly uninterested in approval. And that, to many, is frightening. Not to mention the generation I am parenting, Gen Alpha.

Here’s the truth: change isn’t the enemy; poor change management is. Every generation brings a new rhythm, a new lens and perspective on what progress means. But institutions, governments, and even families often fail to adapt. We try to plug new thinking into old systems and then blame the youth when the system crashes.

If we want sustainable development and progress in policy, business, education, or community, we must manage change intentionally. We must stop clinging to “how it’s always been done” “ the good old days” and start designing systems that are responsive, flexible, inclusive, and future-focused.

Development is often treated like a ladder: step by step, year by year, result by result. But what if we could skip steps? What if innovation allowed us to leapfrog? What if success didn’t mean climbing, but building differently? These are the kinds of questions Gen Z is asking, not because they’re lazy or rebellious, but because they see the flaws we’ve normalized. And they’re right to ask.

Sustainability is about systems that can stand the test of time but still flexible and nimble to meet the need, gap and respond to real time challenges and tabulations. That means being adaptable, human-centered, and inclusive of generational wisdom not stuck on the principle of “As it was in the beginning”.

We must protect what worked in the past, yes but only if it still serves us. We need to be brave enough to let go of legacy models that no longer fit, and wise enough to carry forward the values that do.

The workplace must evolve beyond control to trust. Education must move from memorization to learning and interpretation of information to knowledge. Leadership must shift from fear to goal oriented and people-responsive.

It’s not about choosing one generation’s values over another’s. It’s about building a bridge between them. Because true progress doesn’t erase the past it learns from it, and builds forward.

Let’s stop fearing change. Let’s embrace it, preserve the history, progress with the applicable strategies, manage change with intention, with vision, and with respect for every generation’s voice. Because the most sustainable thing we can do is listen, adapt, and evolve together.



Mind Your Manners: Is Etiquette Becoming Obsolete?

Mind Your Manners: Is Etiquette Becoming Obsolete?

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Mind Your Manners: Is Etiquette Becoming Obsolete?

Growing up, our society was structured around clear rules, there were things you did and things you didn’t. The society had clear boundaries, values, and expectations. The “magic words” Please, Excuse me, I’m sorry, Thank you, were not just polite phrases; they were a reflection of character.

Greeting others was a norm, a sign of respect and community. There was a collective sense of accountability, toward each other, property, and public institutions. But fast forward to today, and it feels like basic courtesy is fading fast. Small talk is considered a waste of time. Kindness is mistaken for weakness. The magic words are now optional. And all this makes me wonder, have we lost our moral compass?

Could it be that the rampant corruption we see today stems from this erosion of etiquette, of shared values, of respect for others and property as well as for the common good?

But let’s be honest, corruption doesn’t start in boardrooms. It starts as a harmless excuse. When we teach children that they can skip queues if they know someone. When we excuse dishonesty in the name of “Mtu wetu”, When we normalize shortcuts instead of following due process. These are not just bad habits, they are early seeds of corruption

We now live in an increasingly individualistic world, one where self-interest often trumps the public interest. And as we drift further from our foundational values, corruption is becoming more entrenched. According to the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission (EACC), the average cost of a bribe in Kenya has nearly doubled, rising from Ksh. 6,865 in 2022 to Ksh. 11,865 today. This is not just a number, it’s a symptom of a deep concern and national crisis.

It’s time we asked ourselves: When did the rain start beating us? We must begin by minding our manners, literally and metaphorically. Etiquette, at its core, is about respect, for people, systems, and shared spaces. When we teach our children to say “thank you,” we are not just teaching politeness we’re laying the foundation for accountability. When we respect queues, rules, and procedures, we’re strengthening the institutions that support good governance.

Corruption Is sadly not Just a Crime, it is slowly moving to a Culture Shift. Let’s be honest: corruption takes two to tango. There’s the person offering the bribe, and the one accepting it. But behind every corrupt act is a choice, a choice to betray trust, a choice to disrespect public funds, a choice to skip the queue, an unjustifiable rush and choice to ignore the long-term consequences for a short-term gain.

If Kenya is to maintain its leadership space in the region, we must confront the elephant in the room: corruption. It’s not just a threat to our national image; it undermines our credibility, weakens our institutions, and stifles economic progress.

Corruption directly affects development. When roads collapse weeks after construction, when hospitals lack basic supplies, when schools are built with a disregard to the set standards, when substandard items are allowed at port of entry, it’s not bad luck, it’s weak governance, enabled by corruption. It compromises quality, breeds inefficiency, disrespect for properties and public amenities and can sadly costs lives.

We cannot talk about progressive development without addressing corruption head-on. We must begin by holding ourselves and others accountable, it is that moment that we should stand by the mirror accept that we have challenges which need to be dealt with. Development should never be reduced to a favor or personal connection. Every citizen, from the top leadership to the grassroots, must treat public resources as sacred.

  • Communities must take an active role in local development and facing corruption head-on. We need to again and again ask ourselves, why “Mtu wetu Syndrome” has to apply only when its around corruption.

  • Investigative agencies must be empowered to arrest and prosecute those involved in graft.

  • Anti-corruption measures should not just exist on paper—they must be seen, felt, and enforced.

  • And above all, we must return to the values we were raised with: respect, honesty, courtesy, integrity.

Etiquette isn’t just about saying “please” and “thank you.” It’s about respecting people, respecting systems, and respecting public funds. It’s about doing the right thing for the greater good.

Let’s Mind Our Manners and Respect Public Funds. When public money is stolen or wasted, it is you and I who suffer. These are our taxes. Taxes meant to deliver quality healthcare, safe and clean water, reliable roads, good schools, and safe environments for business and farming to thrive.

If we could reduce corruption by just half, Kenya would have more than enough resources to fund public services and invest in meaningful development.

So, here is my call: Let’s STOP. REFLECT. ACT. Let’s mind our manners. Let’s treat public funds with the dignity they deserve.

Because when we do, we won’t just be building infrastructure, we’ll be rebuilding trust, community, and a future we can all be proud of.



Indigenous Knowledge for Development: Primitive or Powerful?

Indigenous Knowledge for Development: Primitive or Powerful?

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ndigenous Knowledge for Development: Primitive or Powerful?

For decades, indigenous knowledge and cultural practices have been dismissed by many as primitive or outdated. In post-colonial Kenya, being modern often meant distancing ourselves from anything that resembled traditional life. We avoided speaking our mother tongues, avoided using our native names, and associated indigenous practices with backwardness.

I remember growing up during a time when speaking in vernacular at school could earn you a punishment. Native names were replaced with English ones, and practices from our grandparents were regarded as relics of a time best forgotten. Yet, ironically, it is from these same practices that we can now draw some of the most sustainable, practical solutions to today’s development challenges.

Looking back, I recall how my grandparents used traditional knowledge in governance, food production, storage, and even in how they resolved conflicts and taught values through oral narrative and storytelling. Passing value systems and knowledge from one generation to the next. Food was not just grown and eaten, it was handled with foresight. Harvests were carefully sorted: some portions were set aside for immediate consumption, some stored, and others preserved specifically as seed stock for the next planting season.

To eat the seed stock was unthinkable, it was a sign of desperation, perhaps after a failed harvest or prolonged drought. But more than that, it reflected a community’s understanding of sustainability. They knew that eating the future meant starving tomorrow.

Seeds were not selected randomly. There was a criteria for choosing the best seed. These weren’t written in manuals but were passed down orally and through practice Today, as we grapple with climate change and food insecurity, such indigenous knowledge systems are proving vital in building resilience, especially among smallholder farmers.

Indigenous knowledge is not just cultural nostalgia, it is a structured, tested system of innovation, developed over generations in harmony with the local environment. In a world increasingly turning to sustainability, it is time we re-evaluate what development looks like.

As we program using modern technology and ideology, we can still learn from ingenious knowledge, pick some good practices and preserve the same by documenting it, which sadly was missing in the traditional knowledge transfer.

Reclaiming and valuing indigenous knowledge is not a call to reject modern science or technology. Rather, it’s about integrating the two. For example, agricultural extension programs could be more effective if they partnered with local elders to align new techniques with traditional farming calendars and ecological indicators.

Modern education and indigenous knowledge do not have to be at odds. In fact, combining both creates a richer, more contextually relevant foundation for development. A young engineer from Turkana can design a solar-powered water pump, but if she consults the community’s traditional knowledge about water sources and seasonal migration patterns, her project stands a far better chance of success.

Kenya’s Vision 2030 emphasizes inclusive development, and this must include cultural heritage and local knowledge systems. Whether it’s in healthcare (like using medicinal plants), climate adaptation (like traditional rain forecasting), or natural resource management (like community-based conservation), we are surrounded by living libraries of wisdom.

We must document, protect, and promote this knowledge—not as museum pieces, but as dynamic, evolving systems that can help us solve present-day problems. Universities, policymakers, and local leaders must work together to integrate indigenous knowledge into curricula, development plans, and national policies.



The future of Kenya’s development is not in choosing between modernity and tradition. It is in blending them intelligently. Indigenous knowledge, far from being primitive, offers practical, sustainable, and time-tested solutions that align with the needs of both people and the planet.

As we move forward, let us remember: there is wisdom in the past that can shape a more sustainable future. It’s not a matter of returning to old ways, but of building on them to create a development path that is uniquely Kenyan, deeply rooted, and forward-looking.



Weekly reflection: Impacting on the next Generation.

Weekly reflection: Impacting on the next Generation.

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Impacting on the next Generation.

 

Growing up, I never fully understood why our parents were so firm about certain things.

“This can’t happen in my house.”

“This is how we do things here.”

At the time, it felt restrictive. Annoying, even.

Only later did I realize something important: those boundaries weren’t control, they were value formation.

As a parent today, this lesson has become very real. Parenting is not just about correcting behavior; it’s about shaping a value system. What children repeatedly see, practice, and experience becomes their internal compass. Family culture is built through daily expectations including respect for others, care for property, how we speak to one another, and ultimately, what we choose to value.

There is also science behind this. Research in behavioral psychology shows that children learn values less through instruction and more through modeled behavior and repetition. Experiences that involve effort, emotion, and consistency are more likely to be encoded into long-term memory and influence future decision-making.

Last year, we planted a few plants at home with our children, very young children. It felt like a simple activity. But months later, when the plants flowered, something remarkable happened. There was genuine joy. Pride. Ownership. What began as planting became a living lesson in patience, focus, care, and delayed gratification. They learned that growth takes time and that results come from consistent effort.

As the children grow, so will those plants. One day, they may stand under a big tree and tell the story of how it started with small hands, soil, and commitment.

This year, we plan to plant fruit trees together. When they mature, the children will eat from what they nurtured but more importantly, they will carry forward the life lessons rooted in that process.

As you end one week and begin another, I invite you to reflect:



What values are we intentionally or unintentionally planting in the next generation?

Human Rights Day Reflections: Safeguarding Our “Everyday Essentials” in a Shifting World

Human Rights Day Reflections: Safeguarding Our “Everyday Essentials” in a Shifting World

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Human Rights Day Reflections: Safeguarding Our "Everyday Essentials" in a Shifting World

 

As we reflect on the Human Rights Day, which was commemorated on 10th Dec, this year themed “Our Everyday Essentials’, we need to reflect on the realities of our world today and practical solutions within our reach. Every year, the world reflects on gains made in human rights, recognizes continued violations, and recommits to the protection of dignity. Yet in this commemoration of an important day, one thing remains certain: the face of human rights is changing, and technology stands right at the middle of this transformation.

Technology has become both a blessing and a challenge. While it has provided fresh spaces for expression, connection, and access to justice, it also presents fresh avenues for harm and abuse. We have seen people bullied online to the point of emotional breakdown. We have witnessed sex predators using digital platforms to lure and exploit children and unsuspecting adults. More than 1 billion children-that is every second child in the world-face violence annually (UNICEF, 2023), and 1 in every 3 women face physical or sexual violence in their lifetime (WHO, 2021). Kenya is no exception: according to the KDHS 2022, 45% of women aged 15–49 years have experienced violence.

While we must appreciate the progress Kenya has made, including stronger laws, better judicial processes, and rising public awareness-the reality remains painful: women and children are still being abused, exploited, and, in some instances, brutally killed. Corruption denies justice for many. Social media platforms, meant to be areas of freedom and creativity, have increasingly become playgrounds for shaming, harassment, and violation of human rights among others. Just recently, a Kenyan Woman MP declared publicly that FGM is “OK”-a statement that undermined two decades of work in eliminating a harmful practice that affects over 4 million girls and women in Kenya (UNFPA).

These incidents reflect a deeper societal challenge: the normalization of abuse. Too often, survivors who try to report violations get dismissed, blamed, or ridiculed. Many are told, “You like drama,” or “Such a small issue doesn’t deserve a report.” Others are urged to settle the matter at home in order to “protect the family name.” This culture of silence is what enables abuse to flourish.

Workplaces are no exception. Harassment, intimidation, and exploitation often go unreported because the victims fear job loss or reputational damage. In many organizations, the unhealthy behaviors are minimized as “normal” office dynamics and politics.

Compounding these is the “Big Man Syndrome”: a culture where some are seen to be untouchable, too powerful to be brought to account. The resulting attitude generates impunity, makes discouraging reporting occur, and undermines justice. As long as some people believe themselves above the law, human rights violations will never cease.

The rapid rise of technology demands urgent safeguards. Digital platforms must be responsible and regulated to protect all users without stifling the freedom of expression. Law enforcement agencies need appropriate tools and training to deal with cybercrimes. Families and communities must learn to identify and report online exploitation. Our justice system should be suitably equipped to deal with digital evidence.

In the face of such adversity, some trends are promising. I am specially motivated by a Kenyan Senior Magistrate who has opted to make her courtroom not just a site for the conduct of legal decisions but also a place for dialogue , advice and open conversations. Her approach reflects the simplicity yet powerful truth of the fact that some conflicts would be dealt with before they arise when we talk with one another, listen to each other, and treat each other with dignity. Justice should not punish only; it should restore.

But then, where is the solution? As overwhelming and complex as all the problems may seem, the beginning of the answer is each one of us. Human rights are not abstract principles to be reserved for international declarations and public speeches. They are the “everyday essentials” each of us deserves-safety, dignity, respect, justice. Upholding them begins with how we treat others in our homes, workplaces, communities, and online.

If and Wwhen each one of us commits to rejecting harmful norms, speaking up against injustice, and treating people with dignity, we move closer to that society where all have the right to live out the fullness of their humanity.

On this Human Rights Day, let us not forget that protection of human rights is a task not only of governments or institutions but of us all and in our daily lives.