K

Adapt or Die!

Word to the wise.

[K @_wordisbond]

Fortune favours the bold.

[K @_wordisbond]

@BoardLotSultan Unless you're employed in Coast usiwai jaribu kuhamia uko ati simply because you can.

Worse if you're a freelancer who works from home. Your peers who you left in Nairobi will be miles ahead of you juu ya 2-3 year side quest in Coast.

[K @_wordisbond]

Home county representing

[K @_wordisbond]

Lakini si pia nyinyi mnaona Kikuyu-led opposition hits different?

Gegen pressing

[Ahmednasir Abdullahi SC @ahmednasirlaw]

Read it just now. Very insight. The historical context is priceless @HonKangata

[N²K @2NNSK]

This is Kwenya Thuku being chased away jana. Kikuyu Gen X are mad🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

[The People’s President @bonifacemwangi]

The International Criminal Court (ICC) suspects who basically own Kenya today bribed media house employees to delete post-election violence news stories from their YouTube channels, arranged for raw footage to disappear from newsrooms, and rewrote the narrative by portraying themselves as victims after funding the killings.

The kind of money thrown around to sink the case ran into the billions. They paid an employee of the Kenya National Commission on Human Rights (KNCHR) to steal the list of witnesses lined up against them at the ICC.

They used that list to bribe witnesses, paid hit squads to kill, and even made witnesses disappear if they refused to recant their testimonies. The officers who were in the hit squad that killed the witnesses were themselves also murdered. https://t.co/XXddL3JAbq

Some of the targeted hate I receive is because I refused to hide my images or testify falsely at The Hague that the violence I witnessed was spontaneous rather than organised. Instead, we travelled the entire country, displaying the pictures and holding healing and reconciliation discussions.

I was even approached not by the two main ICC suspects, but by Kibaki’s people, who were trying to protect his key civil servant. That civil servant was facing charges of five crimes against humanity: murder, forcible transfer of population, rape, persecution, and other inhumane acts.

Entire police occurrence books were rewritten to conceal the true number of those who died. Almost 20 years later, there has not been a single conviction for the post-election violence.

Thousands died, hundreds (possibly thousands) of women were raped, and over 500,000 people were displaced. Their animals, properties, and land were stolen.

The 2007–2008 chapter was never closed. The story continues, and if you make the mistake of re-electing people whose only language is to bribe everyone and kill those who disagree, Kenya will experience even worse violence than in 2007–08.

He has already normalised sending masked men to abduct citizens in full view of cameras, while goons work with the police to beat and violate opposition leaders and their supporters. Soon those masked men and goons will be shooting and killing people on live TV. That is exactly what happened on 25 June 2024. Why do you think almost all senior police leadership in Nairobi comes from one community, and that the police boss who ordered a blogger’s abduction and murder is being groomed to be the next Inspector General of Police?

Let me stop here. You can find some of the photos I shot in 2007–08 https://t.co/LRDxDzXwu4.

Finally, @DCI_Kenya boss Mohamed Amin: since January, your special teams have been forced to sign that they received per diems when they travel for out-of-station missions, yet they receive nothing. They are being forced to sleep in their cars and beg for food.

Stop treating your special units like homeless people. Who is stealing their allowances? Or is that the money State House is using to bribe voters and pay bloggers?

The struggle to liberate Kenya continues… #NeverAgainKE

[Okiya Omtatah Okoiti @OkiyaOmtatah]

In a case I filed alongside BERNARD MUCHIRI MUCHERE and NAOMI NYAKERARIO MISATI challenging the constitutionality of privatising the Kenya Pipeline Company @kenyapipeline the High Court has explicitly preserved one substantive question for determination on merit:
"Whether the Privatisation of KPC, being primarily driven by IMF loan conditionalities and not an independent sovereign determination of public interest, violates the sovereignty of the people (Article 1), national values of patriotism (Article 10) and constitutes an unlawful abduction of state authority to an external entity."
The Court also directed the Government to produce, within 21 days, important documents relating to the privatisation. The Court has effectively invited the Petitioners to prove, through documentary evidence, that the privatisation was not a sovereign policy choice but a coerced compliance with IMF conditionalities, hence, a violation of Article 2(6) of the Constitution.

https://t.co/gIabTvB4cU

[Okiya Omtatah Okoiti @OkiyaOmtatah]

PRESS STATEMENT BY SENATOR OKIYA OMTATAH ON THE PUBLIC DEBT CASE RULING

Fellow Kenyans,

Today, the High Court delivered an important ruling in our public debt case.

The Court upheld the @IMFNews claim of diplomatic immunity and struck it out of this petition. While we respect the Court’s decision, accountability for Kenya’s debt burden cannot end there.
We are preparing a separate legal challenge to the Bretton Woods Agreements Act, 1963, against the Constitution of Kenya 2010 to ensure all actors involved in Kenya’s debt processes are subjected to proper scrutiny.

Most importantly, the Court rejected attempts by the Attorney General and other respondents to have this case dismissed. The judges ruled that our petition will proceed to a full hearing on its merits.

The Court also dismissed applications by the former Auditor General, former Controller of Budget, the current Auditor General, and the current Controller of Budget seeking to shield themselves from these proceedings.

This is a significant victory for transparency, accountability, and the Kenyan people.

We will amend our petition as directed by the Court and return on 22nd July 2026. Our mission remains unchanged: to establish how Kenya accumulated trillions in public debt, how the funds were utilized , whether the public benefited and whether the law was followed at every stage.

This case is about protecting the future of our nation and the interests of every Kenyan taxpayer.
We remain focused, determined, and committed to seeing it through.

God Bless Kenya.
#DeniBandia #OdiousDebt

[K @_wordisbond]

@nyanchwani This is why more millennials and Gen Zs should consider voting for Jimmy Wanjigi.

His solution is simple. We should default on the odious debt.

[Silas Nyanchwani @nyanchwani]

Kenyan Millennial Men Have No Plan B

Kenyan men die young. The average male life expectancy is about 62, and healthy life expectancy, the years you actually live in good health, is closer to 57. So even the so-called average man spends his final years unwell.

Pick a random sample of twenty men in their thirties, and a startling number are already fatherless. Their old men are long dead, or they were never there to begin with: present but deadbeat, or absent and deadbeat, take your pick. Very few men have the privilege of seeing their fathers live into their 80s and 90s.

If I show up in my village right now, the men in their 40s and 50s have already begun to thin out. Between 60 and 75, there are almost none, and the rare one who reaches his mid-70s suddenly has a real shot at 85 and beyond. It is a silent crisis, and you never notice it until you are 40, marrying again, needing uncles to escort you, only to realize there are no uncles left, only cousins.

Our fathers’ generation was wasted by HIV/AIDS and by the economic collapse of the late 1980s and 1990s, a collapse engineered in part by World Bank and IMF prescriptions, the structural adjustment programs, not unlike what is being done to us now. Many in Gen Z may not know this, but there was a time when this country actually made things. The Western Kenya belt ran on sugar: Chemelil, Muhoroni, Nzoia, Mumias, Sony.

Webuye had Pan Paper. There were cotton ginneries and pyrethrum, and coffee farming spread as far as Kisii. Nakuru was busy as hell. So was Kitale, and even small outposts like Kilgoris. Thika was big, big, and industrial. Then, within a decade, the factories went quiet, the parastatals were privatized, and every plant that shut, every institution that was sold off, took real livelihoods and real families down with it.

People retreated to the countryside. I still remember the prettiest girl who transferred to our school. I would vote for Ruto if that is what it takes to find out how her life turned out. She looked like she had lived a cushioned life somewhere, only to land in rural Kisii, in a jigger-infested classroom. Those were the real-time adjustments that millennials rarely talk about. Maybe that is part of why so many of us are quietly traumatized.

As I said, our fathers at least had a Plan B: ancestral land, and our mothers.

As men, we romanticize our independence now, and some treat marriage as a woman’s backup plan, but in the 1980s and 90s, it was often a wife’s ingenuity that kept the whole family alive. And for the many men who died early, leaving behind young, bewildered widows, it was the women who carried the weight of raising everyone, without taking anything away from the men who did their part.

For a while, between roughly 2005 and 2015, I honestly believed millennial men would escape our fathers’ fate. Now I am not so sure. More and more millennial men are walking into something worse than what their fathers faced.

Where the late 1980s and 1990s lost a generation of productive men and women to HIV/AIDS, the late 2010s and 2020s are killing men with something quieter: a broken economy, made worse by terrible political choices, a shaky global situation, and a future nobody can read. As Darius Okolla has argued, millennials are the first generation here to enter adulthood under this much uncertainty.

For our parents, marriage and a home of your own, even a badly built one, were realistic dreams. Plenty of millennials did manage to put up decent houses in the towns ringing Nairobi. But far more never accumulated enough to reach escape velocity from poverty. It is those born in the late 1980s and 1990s who hurt the most: bright enough to get into college and raised to believe that education was the key to everything. What a cruel joke that has turned out to be.

A huge share of graduates since 2014 have never held a properly structured formal job, the kind you keep consistently for five years, long enough to set yourself up for the basics. So instead of marrying, a man in this position ends up with a baby mama, and often cannot even provide for the baby. Just yesterday, I was talking with a younger Gen Z cousin about the recent spike in new HIV infections, and she told me, plainly, that she keeps condoms on her because some of the young men she meets cannot even afford one. That is not a joke, man.

And here is the part that should frighten you: this is the same machine that took our fathers. After years of steady decline, from about 94,000 new HIV infections at the peak down to roughly 16,000 in 2024, new infections jumped again in 2025, past 20,000, the first reversal in years. The cause is almost insultingly familiar. When the United States froze PEPFAR and USAID funding, prevention collapsed almost overnight. Testing fell, PrEP uptake halved, and young people aged 15 to 24 now account for about four in every ten new infections. Donor money built the wall that held the disease back, and the moment it was pulled, the disease started walking back through. History is not repeating. It is rhyming, and it is rhyming in our generation. Worse, our government, like so many across Africa, rarely wants to solve some of these basic problems.

Now that we are in our 40s, economic depression is a silent killer. No amount of motivation, no think piece, no pep talk will bail a man out. At some point, you need the only thing that actually works: money.

Our economy began its slow collapse around 2015. Some of the rot traces back to the 2008-09 global crash; the West never fully recovered, and when America sneezes, the rest of us still catch the cold. But the deeper wounds were self-inflicted. We raised a Eurobond of roughly Sh 200 billion, and to this day the Auditor General cannot fully account for it; by the official reckoning, around a billion dollars has never been traced to any actual project. We built a wildly overpriced SGR. The effects were immediate. As Eurobond repayments and other loans came due, cash drained out of the economy. The banks that used to hawk loans to us before 2015 found a far better customer in the government itself, and what little credit remained for ordinary people dried up.

Before long, counties stopped paying on time. Today, the unpaid bills are staggering: national government pending bills alone have exceeded Sh 500 billion, and the total, including counties, sits north of Sh 690 billion, much of it owed to small suppliers who have since folded. Taxes climbed, inflation climbed, companies issued profit warnings after profit warnings, and many shut, exactly as they did in the 1990s.

The economy kept shrinking, and in the meantime, we handed the keys to a thieving elite, the kind of arrangement where only they get to steal, so the money pools in fewer and fewer hands.

In real life, this is what it looks like: if you run a business, the stock does not move. A friend who sells electronics in Luthuli told me that in his good years, back in the 2010s, he shifted serious volume and was, in real terms, a millionaire. These days, he is lucky to sell one cheap Chinese TV a week. Last I heard, he may close shop.
You can see it in black tax too, which keeps climbing. I told Gordon Opiyo recently that we should be careful about celebrating the rise in diaspora remittances. That money is not flowing home to buy Treasury bonds or build anything; it is flowing home to plug the holes that government irresponsibility keeps tearing open in people’s lives, something both the Central Bank and the Kenyan Demographic Health Survey admit.

Ruto did not kill the Kenyan economy. It was already on life support by the time he inherited it. Whatever little resuscitation he managed, he did for himself and his cronies. Now, standing over a dead economy, all he does is dance and piss on the grave while his bloggers cheer.

None of this is to say women are not suffering. They are, and their story is theirs to tell. But what I am certain of is this: in the coming decade, a lot of men’s deaths will be hastened by the collapsing economy. Whether we lose them to drugs, to suicide, to slow depression, or to plain loss of hope, the direction is grim. If things keep tanking, I would not be shocked to see male life expectancy slide back toward the mid-50s. Broke men cannot afford decent healthcare or good food. And broke men, more than anyone, tend to lose their networks and their relationships, even within their own families. That isolation is its own quiet killer.

So, educated millennials and Gen Z men, hear me clearly.

The point of laying all this out is not to bury you. It is to get you to stop waiting for the economy, or the government, or some motivational speaker, to come and rescue you. They are not coming. The men who make it through the next ten years will be the ones who saw the storm early and built for it: who learned a skill the market actually pays for, who pooled resources with other men instead of competing in misery, who kept their bodies and their minds intact, and who refused to let shame cut them off from the people who love them. Money is the goal, yes, but the things that keep a broke man alive long enough to go and make it are boring and unglamorous: a few real friends, a reason to wake up, and the stubbornness to not check out early.

Our fathers had land and our mothers to fall back on. We were handed no Plan B. We have to become our own. Build it now, while you still can, because the times are bad, and they will get worse before they get better. The men who understand this and move will not merely survive. They will be the ones still standing when the dust settles, and the ones who get to rebuild.
Nothing messes with a man like a bad economy. And this, my friends, is not a wantam or tutam thing. This one outlasts whoever is sitting in State House

[K @_wordisbond]

@ira_njeri @ellespiracy She's a DJ now, Dj Becky I think

[K @_wordisbond]

@Monty_Hasashi Labda ametahiri

[K @_wordisbond]

@Kenyans Even a broken clock is right twice a day

[K @_wordisbond]

Landlord wa hii app anakuwanga hateful af. I had to block him

[K @_wordisbond]

@vikku60879 @Nimbopill Don't be like John

[K @_wordisbond]

@eclipseof_heart @NanjieGalgalo You can literally hear the padlock.

Plus kufunga chini is enough. No need for padlock juu dangers can come from inside too. For a example moto ikitokea from inside na umefunga mlango na padlock a lot can go wrong

[K @_wordisbond]

@Ianliam6 Sometimes it's even not about money. It's hard to explain but 30s come with a different aura that the ladies seem to like.

[K @_wordisbond]

@_stayliquidd You've sexually abused me

[K @_wordisbond]

@ellespiracy Zii, tunataka alireport kwa polisi. Yeye anataja mtu hakuhusika.

[K @_wordisbond]

@Honeyfarsafi Twitter is not a police station. Alleged victims should report to the police.

Maraga team ndio kusema nini? And why do you keep bringing his name up yet his not the perpetrator?

[K @_wordisbond]

@Kenyans We're so cooked