Kenya Insights

Category: Business

  • Court Overturns Raburu’s Sh6.5m Win Against Airtel in Trademark Row

    Court Overturns Raburu’s Sh6.5m Win Against Airtel in Trademark Row

    Media personality Willis Raburu will not receive a Sh6.5 million bounty after the High Court overturned a judgement granted in his favour against mobile operator Airtel Kenya.

    Justice Linus Kassan quashed the award stating that the judgment delivered by the Milimani Chief Magistrate’s Commercial Court was a nullity as the lower court lacked authority to determine trademark disputes.

    “The decision of the trial court must be faulted in light of this Court’s finding that the said court was ousted of jurisdiction to entertain Raburu’s suit,” Justice Kassan ruled.

    The judge set aside the magistrate’s ruling in its entirety and substituted it with an order striking out Raburu’s suit, with costs awarded to Airtel.

    “In the end, Airtel’s appeal succeeds on the question of jurisdiction. The Court further directs that Airtel will have the attendant costs of the appeal. Order accordingly,” Justice Kassan stated.

    The emphasized that the trial court failed to properly interrogate Airtel’s objection on jurisdiction.

    “Such an omission must be faulted, given this Court’s earlier finding that the intent of the drafters of the Trademark Act was that any live issue concerning trademarks be referred to the High Court and not subordinate courts,” Kassan said.

    The dispute arose from a judgment delivered in November last year, where the magistrate awarded Raburu Sh6.5 million in a case against Airtel Kenya Networks Ltd.

    Raburu had sued Airtel for alleged unauthorized use and infringement of his registered trademark No. 116744, ‘BAZU.’

    He sought a permanent injunction restraining Airtel, its directors, officers, and agents from using the mark or publishing any material in print or broadcast media that could cause confusion with his brand.

    Raburu sought special damages of Sh5 million for potential licensing fees Airtel would have paid had it lawfully used the mark. He also sought profits earned from the alleged infringement, general damages, interest, and costs of the suit.

    However, with the High Court’s ruling, Raburu’s award has been nullified, and Airtel walks away with costs of both the trial and the appeal.

  • Business Bay Square Owner Injects Sh65 Billion Into Tatu City Amid Multibillion Rice Importation Scandal

    Business Bay Square Owner Injects Sh65 Billion Into Tatu City Amid Multibillion Rice Importation Scandal

    As Kenya grapples with a deepening procurement scandal involving rice imports worth over Sh14 billion, Abdiweli Hassan, the maverick developer behind Eastleigh’s Business Bay Square Mall, has quietly sealed what may be the largest private real estate deal in Kenya’s history.

    On Thursday, Hassan signed a Sh65 billion agreement with Tatu City Special Economic Zone to develop a 60-acre mixed-use community spanning residential homes, retail spaces, offices, logistics facilities, and religious infrastructure.

    The timing of this announcement carries particular significance: Hassan himself has been accused by Busia Senator Okiya Omtatah of being at the helm of a rice import cartel, though Hassan’s legal team has vehemently denied any involvement in rice importation deals.

    Meanwhile, the Kenya National Trading Corporation wallows in a separate but related procurement controversy that has drawn judicial intervention, creating a complex narrative that highlights both the opportunities and perils facing Kenya’s business landscape.

    The contrast could not be more dramatic. Just weeks before Hassan’s Tatu City announcement, the High Court in Mombasa threw a judicial spanner into a controversial rice importation deal, with Justice Jairus Ngaah issuing interim orders that exposed what appears to be a scandalous procurement process riddled with irregularities and potential fraud.

    The ruling effectively froze the Agriculture and Food Authority’s attempt to reallocate a massive 250,000 metric tonnes rice import quota to four largely unknown private firms, bypassing established procurement procedures and potentially defrauding legitimate bidders of billions in business.

    The court intervention came after Ibrahim Muhumed Mohamed and Abdiaziz Moge Noor filed an urgent petition challenging what they described as a brazen attempt by AFA to circumvent legal processes and hand over lucrative import quotas to politically connected individuals outside the lawful tender process conducted by KNTC.

    Justice Ngaah’s orders restraining AFA from issuing, reallocating, or otherwise purporting to allocate the rice importation quota to any private individuals or entities outside the lawful tender process sent a clear message that the courts will not tolerate blatant manipulation of public procurement.

    Hassan’s journey from transforming Eastleigh through the 130,000-square-meter Business Bay Square Mall to this record-setting investment at Tatu City represents a masterclass in strategic development thinking.

    Where others saw congestion and limited infrastructure, Hassan identified opportunity. His BBS Mall, housing over 1,000 shops and restaurants, didn’t just create commercial space; it reimagined an entire neighborhood’s economic potential and fundamentally altered public perception of what Eastleigh could become.

    Yet Hassan’s business empire has not been without controversy.

    In August 2025, Busia Senator Okiya Omtatah publicly accused Hassan of leading a rice import cartel that threatens Kenyan farmers.

    The outspoken lawmaker made the allegations in a series of posts on social media, following the government’s decision to allow 500,000 tonnes of duty-free rice imports from India and Pakistan. Omtatah claimed during a Senate session on July 31, 2025, that the import deal favored BBS Mall’s ownership, questioning the legality and transparency of the rice import allocation.

    Hassan’s legal team, led by prominent lawyer Ahmednasir Abdullahi, responded forcefully with a demand letter dated August 23, 2025, threatening legal action unless Omtatah retracted his Senate statements.

    “For the record, we state expressly that our client was never allocated any quota to import rice,” the letter asserted, labeling Omtatah’s statements as baseless and misleading.

    The standoff escalated into a broader political battle, with Omtatah declaring, “Parliamentary privilege is not for sale. I will not be gagged for demanding answers on the 500,000 tonnes of duty-free rice imports that threaten Kenyan farmers.”

    The accusations against Hassan came as local farmers in Mwea, Kirinyaga County, reported unsold stocks amid the influx of imported rice.

    Omtatah traced his concerns back to a Senate statement request on July 9, 2025, where he raised issues about bypassing regulatory bodies like the Agriculture Food Authority. While Hassan’s legal team categorically denied any involvement in rice importation, the controversy placed the BBS Mall founder at the center of a heated national debate about food security, farmer protection, and the influence of business cartels on government policy.

    The Tatu City project amplifies this vision exponentially. Located 20 kilometers north of Nairobi’s congested central business district, the development will unfold over a decade, with designs already underway and construction slated to begin within the year.

    Hassan’s plan integrates high-quality housing adjacent to 30 acres of parks and recreation spaces, commercial developments including a petrol station and offices, and warehousing and logistics hubs within the Tatu Industrial Park.

    A mosque will serve residents near homes and schools, reflecting Hassan’s understanding that truly holistic communities must address both material and spiritual needs.

    “BBS Mall changed how people viewed Eastleigh, showing that thoughtful development can reshape neighborhoods and improve how people live and work,” Hassan explained during Thursday’s signing ceremony

    “Now, the future of development is moving beyond the city center, where there’s space to build holistic communities with everything people need: schools, offices, entertainment, shops, and recreation. Tatu City offers exactly that, a well-planned environment free from congestion and the hassles of commuting.”

    Stephen Jennings, founder and CEO of Rendeavour, the developer behind Tatu City, framed Hassan’s investment as validation of Kenya’s appeal to serious transformative investors despite the country’s well-documented governance challenges.

    “People today value a higher standard of living in well-governed, holistic communities,” Jennings noted. “It takes visionaries like Abdiweli Hassan to execute large-scale projects that improve the lives of tens of thousands of people. We are delighted that Hassan selected Tatu City for this record-setting investment in Kenya’s future.”

    The significance of Tatu City as the destination for this investment cannot be overstated. As Kenya’s first operational Special Economic Zone, Tatu City offers reduced corporate taxes, zero-rated VAT, and import duty exemptions alongside other fiscal incentives. Over 100 companies have already established operations there, creating approximately 25,000 jobs.

    The 5,000-acre development is designed to eventually accommodate more than 250,000 residents and tens of thousands of daily visitors, complete with schools, offices, a shopping district, medical clinics, nature areas, and a sports and entertainment complex.

    Yet Hassan’s Sh65 billion commitment emerges against a troubling backdrop of state institutional failure.

    The rice import scandal engulfing KNTC exposes how procurement processes at public agencies have been weaponized for private enrichment rather than serving the public interest.

    Investigations reveal that four firms, Zyan Agencies, Ecoview Commodities, Njema Commodities, and Solid Commodities, mysteriously emerged as the beneficiaries of the lucrative deal despite not being among the original 60 companies initially considered for the contract.

    Even more shocking, these firms edged out 16 legitimate bidders who had already been notified by KNTC on September 9 that they were successful, only to be told the following day that the corporation had “chosen to go a different route.”

    Documents reveal this abrupt reversal came after the Agriculture and Food Authority’s decision on September 10 to revoke KNTC’s allocation, followed by KNTC’s own notice on September 17 cancelling the original tender.

    The court intervention revealed the extent to which powerful forces were determined to manipulate the system, with these decisions appearing to be a coordinated effort to create space for preferred bidders to walk in through the back door.

    Corporate records raise immediate red flags about the beneficiary companies. Solid Commodities, owned by Haroon Omar Bachoo, was incorporated as recently as October 2024, less than a year ago, yet somehow secured a share of this multibillion-shilling deal.

    The timing raises serious questions about how a company barely 11 months old could compete with established importers and emerge victorious in such a massive tender.

    When journalists attempted to contact Zyan Agencies, which was incorporated in 2018 and operates from an undisclosed building on Nairobi’s Standard Street, using officially registered information, they reached a woman who denied any knowledge of either the company or its listed owner, Ibrahim Murie Ibrahim.

    The financial implications of this scandal are staggering. With the government having revised its valuation of grade one white Pakistani rice to $460 per metric tonne, the total consignment is valued at approximately Sh14.8 billion.

    The import duty waiver, an annual ritual Kenya uses to plug its rice deficit of nearly 800,000 tonnes, makes this an even more attractive deal for the beneficiaries.

    The 16 legitimate bidders who were initially awarded contracts now face the prospect of missing out on business they had every right to expect. Some may pursue legal action against KNTC, potentially exposing the corporation to millions in damages, costs that will ultimately be borne by taxpayers.

    The mess has now landed squarely in the courts. Justice Ngaah suspended both AFA’s decision to revoke KNTC’s allocation and KNTC’s notice cancelling the original tender, effectively freezing the entire process pending further court directions. The matter has been set for mention on October 23 for further directions, giving the respondents seven days to file their responses and explain their actions to the court.

    This judicial intervention represents a rare victory for transparency and due process in Kenya’s procurement system, though it remains to be seen whether court orders can ultimately untangle the web of suspicious dealings.

    Behind the scandal lies a familiar pattern: the thin distribution of culpability across multiple government agencies so no single hand appears directly in the till. Was it KNTC? The Ministry of Agriculture? The Agriculture and Food Authority? This diffusion of responsibility is the classic smoke-and-mirrors approach that has characterized Kenyan procurement controversies for decades.

    Lucy Anangwe, KNTC’s current CEO, was promoted to her position in November 2024 despite being implicated in a separate Sh6.5 billion edible oil scandal and facing ongoing disciplinary proceedings. Her predecessor, Pamela Mutua, was dismissed following investigations that revealed contracts worth Sh6.85 billion were awarded to politically connected individuals in violation of procurement laws.

    This latest scandal comes barely a year after Mutua’s firing, and the similarities between that debacle and the current rice controversy are striking, suggesting that little has changed in the corporation’s procurement culture despite the shake-up in leadership.

    Adding another layer of intrigue to this saga is the revelation that Pakistan’s High Commission in Nairobi had been actively lobbying KNTC CEO Lucy Anangwe to grant preferential treatment to Pakistani firms. In a September 12 letter, Pakistani officials requested “favourable consideration in granting preferential treatment for the allocation of rice imports” and sought clarification on procurement procedures to enable Pakistani exporters to engage with the Kenyan market.

    While KNTC reportedly dismissed this lobbying effort, the timing of the request, coming just days after the original 16 bidders were informed of their success, raises questions about whether other behind-the-scenes negotiations were taking place.

    The contrast with Hassan’s private sector approach is instructive, though complicated by the allegations swirling around him. While government procurement remains captured by competing cartels fighting over shrinking opportunities for rent-seeking, Hassan has identified genuine market demand and mobilized enormous capital to meet it. His investment thesis is straightforward: Nairobi’s growth has made the traditional city center increasingly unworkable for both businesses and residents. Traffic congestion, inadequate infrastructure, and spiraling costs have created demand for well-planned alternatives offering genuine quality of life improvements.

    Yet the irony is inescapable.

    Hassan’s Sh65 billion Tatu City investment announcement comes as he navigates accusations of benefiting from the very type of opaque government dealings that have plagued KNTC’s rice import program. Whether these allegations hold merit remains contested, Hassan’s lawyers insist he had no involvement in rice importation, while Omtatah maintains his accusations under parliamentary privilege. What is undeniable is that Hassan’s name has become entangled in Kenya’s broader conversation about cartels, procurement integrity, and the influence of wealthy business interests on government policy.

    Tatu City’s Special Economic Zone status provides the regulatory predictability and fiscal advantages necessary for such large-scale investment. Hassan’s Sh65 billion commitment represents not merely real estate development but a bet on Kenya’s capacity to provide stable governance frameworks for private investment despite the chaos afflicting state institutions.

    The rice import controversy, meanwhile, threatens to impose massive costs on ordinary Kenyans. The import duty waiver was intended to keep rice prices affordable for consumers facing an annual national shortfall requiring imports of nearly 800,000 tonnes. Instead, the program has become another vehicle for questionable enrichment by well-connected insiders.

    Rice farmers in Mwea and Ahero, who should be the primary beneficiaries of government food security programs, instead find themselves doubly victimized.

    Their produce remains unsold, and payments for stocks already delivered to state-run commodity boards have been delayed indefinitely. If the massive imports proceed unchecked, local prices will inevitably collapse, completing their economic marginalization.

    This pattern, where policy systematically privileges import cartels over domestic producers, reflects what the economist Robert Bates identified in his analysis of African agriculture: leaders adopt policies detrimental to farmers because they must maintain coalitions with wealthy supporters who sustain them politically.

    Hassan’s Tatu City investment offers an implicit rebuke to dysfunctional governance models, though his own entanglement in rice import controversies complicates the narrative. His track record demonstrates that transparent, market-driven approaches to development can deliver tangible results while creating economic opportunities for thousands.

    The Business Bay Square Mall in Eastleigh didn’t require preferential government treatment or opaque procurement processes, at least not in its development phase. It succeeded by identifying genuine demand and executing professional development at scale.

    The government’s decision to allow 500,000 tonnes of duty-free rice imports, announced on August 18, 2025, was defended by Agriculture Cabinet Secretary Mutahi Kagwe as essential to avert a food crisis, citing a deficit of about one million metric tonnes annually. Domestic production meets only about 20 percent of the country’s annual needs.

    However, Omtatah and local farmers argue that such policies, implemented without robust safeguards, risk entrenching cartels and disenfranchising local growers.

    The senator’s accusations against Hassan, whether ultimately proven or disproven, reflect broader public suspicion that major business figures wield disproportionate influence over government commodity import decisions.

    The Tatu City project extends this model to comprehensive community development. Rather than focusing solely on commercial space, Hassan’s plan integrates residential, commercial, industrial, recreational, and religious facilities within a cohesive framework. This holistic approach recognizes that sustainable urban development requires more than infrastructure; it demands thoughtful attention to how people actually live, work, worship, and recreate.

    Marsabit Senator Mohamed Chute has demanded accountability for the rice scandal, questioning why officials implicated in previous procurement controversies remain in positions of authority. His concerns echo broader frustration with Kenya’s persistent inability to break cycles of corruption in state institutions.

    The Senate’s Justice, Legal Affairs and Human Rights Committee is investigating the retention of staff allegedly involved in the edible oil scandal, including Anangwe herself.

    Yet while parliamentary committees investigate and courts issue interim orders, the underlying structural problems persist. With fiscal space shrinking and the state doing little to inject liquidity through development spending, duty-free trade regimes have become among the few remaining frontiers for elite rent-seeking. This is precisely why Hassan’s private sector alternative matters so profoundly.

    The Sh65 billion Tatu City investment represents patient capital committed to genuine value creation rather than extractive rent-seeking. Hassan’s development timeline spans a decade, acknowledging that building sustainable communities cannot be rushed.

    This long-term orientation stands in stark contrast to the scramble for quick gains characterizing the rice import scandal, where politically connected firms materialized overnight to claim contracts worth billions.

    As Kenya navigates its complex development trajectory, the divergence between Hassan’s developmental vision and the chaos at KNTC illuminates fundamental questions facing the country, questions that have become more complicated by Hassan’s own contested position.

    Will Kenya’s future be shaped by visionary private sector leaders creating genuine economic value, or will it remain hostage to rent-seeking cartels that have captured state institutions? And what happens when the line between visionary developer and alleged cartel beneficiary becomes blurred in public perception?

    The answer may well determine whether Kenya can transition from its current middle-income trap to genuine prosperity. Hassan’s Sh65 billion bet on Tatu City suggests he believes Kenya’s private sector can thrive despite persistent governance failures. His legal team’s categorical denial of involvement in rice importation suggests he views himself as separate from the murky procurement scandals plaguing state institutions.

    Yet Omtatah’s persistent accusations, made under parliamentary privilege and backed by farmer advocacy groups, indicate that significant segments of the public remain unconvinced. Whether Hassan’s optimism about Kenya’s business environment proves justified, and whether his reputation emerges intact from the rice import controversy, depends on reforms and revelations that remain frustratingly elusive.

    For now, the contrast endures, though it is murkier than simple binaries suggest. While officials at KNTC scramble to explain to Justice Ngaah how unknown companies secured multibillion-shilling contracts outside established procurement procedures, Hassan is moving earth and mobilizing capital to build communities that will house thousands of families and employ tens of thousands of workers.

    Yet Hassan simultaneously faces a senator’s allegations, denied but persistent, that he benefits from the very cartel dynamics that corrupt public procurement.

    This dual reality captures Kenya’s development paradox. One approach clearly extracts value from public resources through manipulation and capture. The other creates value through professional execution and genuine market response. But what happens when public perception, fueled by legislative accusations and farmer grievances, suggests the same individual might be implicated in both? The rice scandal will eventually work its way through the courts, with the October 23 mention date offering the first opportunity for respondents to explain their actions.

    Omtatah has vowed to press his case in the Senate, urging the Agriculture Committee to investigate the import deal’s beneficiaries. Hassan’s Tatu City development, meanwhile, will rise from the ground as testimony to what focused capital and vision can accomplish, even as questions about the source and nature of that success linger in the public discourse.

    As construction begins at Tatu City within the year, Hassan’s gamble will face its ultimate test not in tender documents or procurement reviews but in concrete and steel, in schools filled with students and offices humming with commerce, in neighborhoods where families build lives rather than merely survive.

    That is the difference between genuine development and mere rent-seeking, between building Kenya’s future and merely exploiting its present dysfunction.

    The Sh65 billion question is whether Kenya’s future will be built by developers like Hassan, whose Tatu City investment represents genuine value creation, or undermined by the cartel dynamics he stands accused, however contested those accusations may be, of perpetuating through rice import deals.

    Can the same individual embody both Kenya’s developmental promise and its procurement pathologies? Or does the truth lie somewhere more nuanced, in the complex intersection of legitimate business ambition, political accusations, and a governance system so compromised that even legitimate entrepreneurs find themselves suspected of cartel involvement?

    As construction begins at Tatu City within the year, Hassan’s gamble will face its ultimate test not in tender documents or Senate debates but in concrete and steel, in schools filled with students and offices humming with commerce, in neighborhoods where families build lives rather than merely survive. That is one measure of success.

    Whether Hassan’s name emerges from the rice import controversy vindicated or tarnished will provide another. Together, these twin tests will help define not just one developer’s legacy but Kenya’s capacity to distinguish between genuine value creation and extractive rent-seeking, between building the nation’s future and merely exploiting its present dysfunction.

    For now, at least, one developer is betting Sh65 billion that Kenya’s promise outweighs its problems. Time, and perhaps the Senate Agriculture Committee, will tell if that faith was justified.

  • Why Kenyan Millennials Are Embracing Forex Over Stocks

    Why Kenyan Millennials Are Embracing Forex Over Stocks

    Throughout East Africa, the next generation of investors is rewiring the rule book on finance. Kenyan millennials are abandoning the classic stock portfolio for the fast-paced, frontier-free arena of currency speculation.

    In busy big cities like Nairobi, Mombasa and Kisumu, young Africans are seizing the management of their financial futures by new and unexpected means. Equipped with smartphones, curiosity, and online access, they are entering global financial markets that were previously the exclusive province of professionals. Speculation that was once a niche has become an economic and cultural phenomenon all over the continent.

    The Allure of Fast, Global Markets

    For African millennials, financial potential no longer equates to waiting decades for endgame stock dividends or property growth. They opt for online platforms that provide fast interaction, quick results and global connectivity. Currency trading is something many consider to be both an art and a way of life; an emblem for aspiration, freedom and versatility.

    Throughout Kenya and East Africa, young traders in their twenties and thirties defy traditional “safe” investing ideas. This is a highly digital, mobile-centric and global finance-savvy group. They watch livestreaming influencers make trades, study charts on Facebook and discuss market actions in online forums that transcend borders. For most, forex trading is economic experimentation and individual empowerment within economies where formal work can be challenging to obtain.

    Why Traditional Investments Fail to Inspire the Youth

    To millennials, the stock markets on the continent are remote, authoritarian and immobile. They tend to identify the classic exchanges with the older generations and government-affiliated institutions that operate on a rhythm unrelated to contemporary existence.

    Part of the problem is perception. Stocks are viewed as slow and long-term, but forex guarantees immediacy, the feeling of control and a real-time response that appeals to the attention economy.

    Whereas stocks may take years to pay off, forex traders can trade daily, learning, losing and sometimes winning over hours. This is also driven by the broader movement away from trust. Some young Africans are not confident in institutions, whether banks or governments, that have not provided financial security.

    The Rise of the Self-Taught Trader

    Throughout the continent, a new generation of self-taught traders is rising. Their study halls are YouTube tutorials, Twitter threads and Telegram channels, where strategies are exchanged in real time. The internet has substituted formal financial education with a peer-to-peer learning culture.

    These traders tend to begin small, testing the waters with micro accounts or practice transactions before entering the live markets. Losses are all part of the process, worn virtually as badges of honor, evidence of the experience gained within the high-stakes online arena. The histories of the traders transforming humble beginnings into steady profits stoke the combination of hopefulness and competitiveness.

    Social confirmation is an effective force. Chat rooms are filled with profit screenshots, inspirational messages and chatter about the psychology of the market. These communities offer technical advice, feel-good support and common sense.

    How Digital Platforms Changed the Game

    Technology has made access much easier. Brokers offer seamless digital onboarding, training modules and practice accounts that simulate the live markets. That level of access has stripped away the psychological and logistical barriers that previously deterred ordinary Africans from taking advantage of global finance.  But access also means risk exposure. Foreign currency markets are highly volatile, and although digital tools make entry easy, they make the intricacies behind each price chart and pair harder to discern.

    The broader appeal is how the tools democratise investing. Young Africans never have to depend on traditional institutions to make wealth. They discuss strategies on digital communities, compare brokers and celebrate profits in public forums. This sense of shared discovery reinforces the belief that the future of finance belongs to those who understand technology, not just those who inherit wealth.

    During this boom, the function of the online trading platformhas become central to Africa’s digital financial identity. The online trading platform resembles an ecosystem of education, communication and belonging, where aspiration encounters an algorithm and where the chatter is as likely to be of macroeconomic data points as motivational sayings on success.

    What the Forex Craze Reveals About Africa’s Economic Future

    Forex growth around Africa is an economic phenomenon that reflects broader societal dynamics. In economies where formal work is falling behind population growth, online markets provide an outlet for creativity and a potential lifeline. Trading is compatible with the entrepreneurial ethos behind much African innovation. Yet, the risks are significant. Shady brokers will take advantage of newbie traders without regulation and speculative frenzies will develop over unrealistic promises.

    Regulators from Kenya are increasingly considering models to reconcile innovation with the protection of investors; a challenge made all the more complex by the cross-border nature of digital finance. Nevertheless, hope endures. The same revolution that delivered mobile money to millions is joining Africans to the global economy. While not everyone will find fortune in trading, the cultural shift it represents, toward self-education, digital literacy and financial experimentation,  may prove more transformative than any single profit or loss.

    Kenyan young people are leading the way. This generation won’t wait around for approval before joining the global economy. Through risk, curiosity and incessant adaptation, African millennials are not so much trending as they are redefining the meaning of investing, innovating and belonging in the digital age.

  • STANDARD GROUP CRASHES AS GIDEON’S FIXER RUNS NEWSROOM LIKE A SHAMBA

    STANDARD GROUP CRASHES AS GIDEON’S FIXER RUNS NEWSROOM LIKE A SHAMBA

    How Alex Chepkoit and his enforcer Jacinta are bleeding Kenya’s oldest media house dry while journalists go unpaid and audiences flee

    The Standard Group now echo with a different kind of story, one the newspaper itself cannot print. It is the story of a once-mighty institution, 123 years in the making, being run into the ground by a man journalists whisper about in dimly lit corridors and half-empty canteens where even the tea is now rationed.

    Alex Kiprotich Chepkoit, the Associate Editor who moves through the building like he owns it because, well, he practically does, has turned The Standard Group into his personal playground.

    And the casualties? Hundreds of journalists, producers, camera operators, drivers, and support staff who have not seen a shilling this month and are now being told even their half-salaries hang in the balance like a bad plot twist no editor would allow through.

    This is not how it was supposed to be. Just months ago, under Marion Gathioga-Mwangi’s steady hand, there was light at the end of the tunnel. Advertisers were trickling back. Confidence was returning.

    The ship was not sinking as fast. But Marion left, and with her departure, whatever fragile stability existed evaporated faster than morning dew in Kerio Valley, Alex’s homeland, where Gideon Moi, the man who bankrolls this circus, reigns supreme.

    Now Acting CEO Richard Chaacha, a man who once inspired hope, sits in his corner office saying nothing. His silence is deafening.

    Employees who once looked to him for answers now avoid eye contact in elevators, afraid that even asking about their salaries might mark them for the next purge.

    Alex Kiprotich Chepkoit
    Alex Kiprotich Chepkoit

    Because purges are what Alex does best. In one dramatic swoop, he dismantled the very structure that gave The Standard its edge. Politics desk? Gone. Sports? Merged. Crime, health, economy, agriculture?

    All bulldozed into one bloated, unmanageable national desk under Augustine Oduor, a move insiders say was designed not for efficiency but to elbow out Input Editor Wellington Nyongesa, a man whose sin was being too competent.

    The result?

    A newspaper that reads like it was written by a committee that never met.

    Headlines scream but deliver nothing. One distribution driver, loading unsold bundles back onto his truck for the third time this week, shook his head and said what everyone else was thinking: “You see a big headline, you buy the paper, then you read it and there’s nothing there. Sometimes the headline is not even the story inside. People feel conned.”

    Vendors in downtown Nairobi, once loyal Standard soldiers, now push Nation harder. “Standard died,” one told us at the Tea Room stage. “These days even the horoscope is depressing.”

    But Alex was not done. He turned his attention to Spice FM and Radio Maisha, the group’s once-vibrant radio stations.

    Mr. Kwambai, the head of radio and a man who understood the rhythm of Kenyan airwaves, was pushed out.

    With him went reporters, producers, seasoned voices who knew how to hold an audience. In their place, untrained staff stumble through shows, reading news like hostages reading ransom notes.

    The 9 a.m. to midday slot, prime time for any radio station, now sometimes airs with no presenter at all, just music and the occasional ad, a haunting soundtrack to institutional collapse.

    And then there is Jacinta Kiraguri, Alex’s enforcer, the woman who should be enjoying retirement somewhere in Kiambu but instead prowls the newsroom like a political commissar in a state gone rogue.

    Officially, she is nobody.

    Unofficially, she is everywhere, in editorial, production, and even the technical department, a feat that would impress even the most ambitious corporate climber if it were not so destructive.

    Jacinta has a talent for making enemies. She sidelined Lillian Odera, the respected head of television, calling her “lazy and sick” in meetings where Lillian was not even present to defend herself.

    She undermined Nyongesa at every turn, questioning his editorial judgment, his news gathering, his very existence. And in her most absurd power play yet, she ordered TV producers to create content without a budget, then threatened to fire them if they failed, a managerial philosophy best described as “let them eat airtime.”

    KTN, once the crown jewel of Kenyan television, the station that broke stories and set agendas, now limps in fifth place behind even KBC, a network that for years was the punchline of every media joke.

    Some prime slots are weeks away from going dark entirely because there is no money to produce content, no budget for cameras, no fuel for outside broadcast vans, nothing.

    Advertisers, the lifeblood of any media house, have fled.

    Why pay premium rates for a product nobody watches or reads? The Standard’s own marketing team has gone silent, unable to sell a dream when the reality is front-page visible.

    Meanwhile, Gideon Moi, the ultimate puppet master, watches from Kabarak or State House or wherever it is powerful men watch empires crumble, seemingly unbothered that his media investment is circling the drain.

    Perhaps he sees The Standard not as a business but as a political tool, useful when needed, expendable when not.

    Perhaps Alex is not failing but succeeding at a different mandate entirely: keeping The Standard just alive enough to be useful but too weak to be independent.

    For the journalists, though, there is no political strategy, just pain.

    Rent is due. School fees loom. Landlords do not accept excuses, and neither do hospitals when a child falls sick.

    These are people who have given years, some like Zubeida Kananu who penned that heartbreaking farewell, have given 18 years to an institution they believed in.

    And their reward? Being shown the door by a man who has turned editorial excellence into editorial roulette.

    “This used to be a place of purpose,” one senior reporter told us, requesting anonymity because even talking to journalists from rival houses can get you fired now.

    “Now it is just survival. We come in, we do what we are told, we go home and hope tomorrow there will still be a tomorrow.”

    The Standard Group, established in 1902 by A.M. Jeevanjee as a voice for the marginalized, a paper that stood up to colonial governors and post-independence autocrats, that gave Kenya some of its finest journalists, is now a cautionary tale of what happens when a media house is run not by media people but by political operatives with no stake in journalism, only power.

    And so the newspapers pile up unsold.

    The radio crackles with dead air.

    The television station that once set the pace now chases shadows.

    And in the corridors of The Standard Group , journalists who once walked with purpose now shuffle with resignation, wondering if this month’s half-salary will come, wondering if there will even be a next month.

    Alex Kiprotich Chepkoit did not respond to requests for comment. Neither did Richard Chaacha. Gideon Moi’s office referred us to The Standard Group’s communications desk, which has not issued a statement.

    Jacinta Kiraguri could not be reached, though sources say she was busy in a meeting, reorganizing something else that did not need reorganizing.

    The Standard is dying.

    And the saddest part? It is dying not from market forces or technological disruption, but from the inside, killed slowly by the very people trusted to save it.

  • Dynasty Toppled! Court Hammers Chandarias, Guardian Bank with Sh2.5B Bill in 26-Year Legal Revenge Saga

    Dynasty Toppled! Court Hammers Chandarias, Guardian Bank with Sh2.5B Bill in 26-Year Legal Revenge Saga

    Industrial tycoons suffer crushing defeat as Court of Appeal vindicates Rajendra Sanghani’s decades-long fight for justice

    The mighty Chandaria family and their Guardian Bank have been dealt a crushing financial blow after the Court of Appeal ordered them to cough up a staggering Sh2.5 billion to businessman Rajendra “Raju” Sanghani and his Shivali Investments Limited, marking the end of a bitter 26-year legal saga that has finally caught up with one of Kenya’s most powerful business dynasties.

    In a blistering judgment delivered on October 3, 2025, that sent shockwaves through Nairobi’s corporate corridors, Justices Daniel Musinga, Francis Tuiyott, and George Odunga tore apart the Chandarias’ defense and laid bare what they found to be years of stonewalling and unfulfilled obligations in a share purchase deal gone spectacularly wrong.

    The appellate bench’s decision represents a stunning reversal of fortune for the illustrious Chandaria clan whose patriarch Dr. Manu Chandaria has built an empire spanning steel, aluminum, plastics and banking across 40 countries and a long-awaited vindication for Sanghani, who has spent more than two decades fighting to recover money he claims was rightfully his.

    At the heart of this epic commercial battle lies a seemingly straightforward 1999 transaction that turned into a nightmare.

    Shivali Investments and associated companies agreed to sell 200,000 shares in Guilders International Bank Limited to Guardian Bank and a constellation of Chandaria family members—Amit, Hetul, Bhavnish, Nisha, and Mahesh Chandaria—along with their corporate vehicles including Conifers Trading Limited, Chandaria Holdings Limited, Dima Limited, Goldera Limited, and Kevis Investments Limited.

    Bhavnish Chandaria, Guardian Bank Executive Director
    Bhavnish Chandaria, Guardian Bank Executive Director

    The purchase price was set at Sh196 million. Sanghani’s companies transferred the shares as agreed. But according to court documents, that’s where the fairy tale ended and the legal warfare began. The sellers claim they never saw a single shilling of the agreed purchase price. The Chandarias and Guardian Bank, meanwhile, dug in their heels, insisting the bank’s assets had been wildly overvalued and they were justified in withholding payment.

    What followed was a protracted legal trench war that would outlast most businesses and test the patience of even the most determined litigant. The dispute crawled through the corridors of justice for over twenty years, consuming resources, generating mountains of paperwork, and eventually landing before the nation’s second-highest court for the final showdown.

    The Court of Appeal’s ruling pulled no punches. The three-judge bench systematically dismantled the Chandarias’ arguments with surgical precision, finding that Guardian Bank and the family obligors had failed to meet critical contractual deadlines and could not substantiate their counterclaims.

    The judges ruled unequivocally that the December 30, 1999 Sale Agreement was the binding contract, not an earlier Memorandum of Understanding that the Chandarias had attempted to rely upon.

    This seemingly technical finding had massive financial implications, as it led the court to cancel the High Court’s award of 12 percent annual interest and instead order that interest be calculated at standard court rates from the date the suit was filed—though even at these reduced rates, the total liability balloons to approximately Sh2.5 billion when principal, interest, and costs are tallied.

    But the real killer blow came when the appellate judges examined whether the Chandarias had met a crucial December 31, 2001 deadline.

    Under the Sale Agreement, Guardian Bank and the Chandaria obligors were required to exhaust all efforts to recover the bank’s loans by that date and formally notify the sellers of any amounts deemed irrecoverable.

    The court found they had produced no credible evidence of meeting this obligation. A 2014 report that the buyers tried to introduce was dismissed as irrelevant for determining the loan status as of the 2001 deadline—too little, too late, and beside the point.

    The consequence was swift and brutal. The court threw out the Chandarias’ counterclaim for Sh827 million in its entirety.

    Their argument that they were owed money because of the sellers’ alleged breaches collapsed like a house of cards when they couldn’t prove the sellers had actually breached any obligations.

    The judges did acknowledge one small victory for the defense.

    Evidence showed that Sanghani himself had attended a Debt Recovery Committee meeting in June 2000, where Sh6.07 million in previously undisclosed liabilities came to light.

    The court deducted this amount from the final award, a minor concession in what was otherwise a total rout.

    The ruling now places distinct and onerous obligations on the two groups of appellants.

    The Chandaria family obligors—Amit, Hetul, Bhavnish, Nisha, and Mahesh Chandaria, along with their companies Conifers Trading, Chandaria Holdings, Dima Limited, Goldera Limited, and Kevis Investments are jointly and severally liable to pay Shivali Investments and the other sellers the principal sum of Sh196 million plus interest calculated at court rates.

    Guardian Bank Limited, meanwhile, has been ordered to release and return all securities that had been provided by the sellers as part of the original transaction, with the exception of four properties whose sales had already been approved by the sellers’ directors.

    Adding insult to injury, the Court of Appeal also stuck the Chandarias with the lion’s share of legal costs.

    The family obligors must cover three-quarters of the sellers’ legal expenses accumulated over two decades of litigation, while Guardian Bank is liable for the remaining quarter—a tab that industry insiders estimate could run into tens of millions of shillings on its own.

    For Rajendra Sanghani, the ruling represents vindication after what must have seemed like an interminable wait for justice.

    The businessman, who owns the Real Group of Companies and has been involved in various high-profile commercial disputes over the years, can finally claim victory in a case that has defined much of his business life since the turn of the millennium.

    For the Chandaria family, whose business acumen and philanthropic activities have made them household names in Kenya and beyond, the judgment is a rare and very public black eye.

    Guardian Bank, founded by the Chandarias and incorporated in 1992, has been a cornerstone of their financial services portfolio.

    The bank converted from a finance company to a commercial bank in 1996 and has operated under the family’s stewardship for decades.

    The Sh2.5 billion liability—equivalent to the entire shareholders’ equity of Guardian Bank as of recent financial reports—represents a significant financial hit even for a business empire as diversified and substantial as the Chandarias’.

    Whether Guardian Bank and the family members will seek to appeal to the Supreme Court remains to be seen, though legal experts note that the Court of Appeal’s detailed and methodical reasoning may make further appeals an uphill battle.

    What is certain is that this landmark judgment will reverberate through Kenya’s banking and corporate sectors for years to come, serving as a stark reminder that even the most powerful business dynasties are not above the law, and that contractual obligations, no matter how old, eventually come due—with interest.

  • As Kenya Grants Sweeping Powers to Climate Group, Questions Mount Over Sovereignty and the New Global Order

    As Kenya Grants Sweeping Powers to Climate Group, Questions Mount Over Sovereignty and the New Global Order

    NAIROBI, Kenya — The timeline is almost too neat to be coincidental. In December 2023, the Global Centre for Adaptation, led by Dutch professor Patrick Verkooijen, quietly transferred approximately €1.2 million to the University of Nairobi for a climate research partnership.

    Weeks later, in January 2024, President William Ruto appointed that very same Verkooijen as Chancellor of the University of Nairobi, the same institution that had just received money from his organization.

    Then, as if choreographed, the dominoes began to fall. By 2025, the Dutch government, the GCA’s original home, had lost faith entirely. Multiple ministries, including Infrastructure and Water Management and Foreign Affairs, announced they would withdraw funding, citing budget constraints, governance concerns, and questions about political entanglement.

    In diplomatic language, this translates to something simpler: they no longer trusted how the organization was being run.

    Yet while the Netherlands was backing away, Kenya was racing forward. On a sweltering July morning, President Ruto laid the cornerstone for what would become the gleaming new headquarters of the Global Centre for Adaptation in Nairobi.

    Standing beside Ban Ki-moon, the former United Nations secretary general who co-founded the organization, Ruto spoke of partnership and progress, of turning vulnerability into opportunity. They called it a “dual headquarters” arrangement, suggesting the GCA would maintain operations in both Rotterdam and Nairobi.

    But the truth was simpler and starker: The Dutch government wanted nothing more to do with the organization, and the GCA was already orchestrating its complete relocation to Kenya.

    What Ruto did not mention that July day were the extraordinary privileges his government had quietly granted the organization four months earlier.

    The decision, formalized through Legal Notice No. 82 on May 2, 2025, and approved by Parliament in late September without substantive public debate, grants the GCA immunities so sweeping they effectively place this private climate organization beyond the reach of Kenyan law.

    Protection from lawsuits, tax exemptions, inviolability of premises and archives, freedom from administrative oversight: these are privileges typically reserved for sovereign states or United Nations agencies, not for what is essentially a well-funded nonprofit with powerful backers and an increasingly questionable track record.

    But there’s another detail, almost brazen in its audacity.

    The Centre for Global Adaptation CEO Patrick Verkoojien with the King of Netherlands Willem Alexander at the inauguration of Prof Dr Patrick Verkoojien's Centre for Global Adaptation floating office at Rotterdam in 2021.
    The Centre for Global Adaptation CEO Patrick Verkoojien with the King of Netherlands Willem Alexander at the inauguration of Prof Dr Patrick Verkoojien’s Centre for Global Adaptation floating office at Rotterdam in 2021.

    The new GCA headquarters will also house Mazingira House, the headquarters of Kenya’s Ministry of Environment  , the very government agency meant to regulate environmental policy and partnerships like this one.

    The regulatory body will now operate from within the premises of an organization it is supposed to oversee, an organization that cannot be investigated, audited, or sued under Kenyan law.

    Consider the circular logic: A foreign organization gives money to a Kenyan university, then its CEO is appointed to lead that university, then that organization receives diplomatic immunity in Kenya, then the Kenyan government moves its environmental ministry into the organization’s headquarters.

    Each step might appear defensible in isolation, but taken together they form a pattern that looks less like partnership and more like institutional capture.

    The financial trail deserves scrutiny.

    The University of Nairobi and the GCA signed an agreement to scale up climate adaptation initiatives by providing policy advice, undertaking research and knowledge exchange, and offering professional short courses.

    But when money flows from an organization to a university, and the organization’s leader then becomes the university’s chancellor, the independence necessary for genuine policy advice evaporates. Who will the university’s researchers critique? Whose methodologies will they question?

    The Netherlands connection tells a cautionary tale that Kenya appears determined to ignore.

    The Netherlands will stop funding the Global Center on Adaptation in Rotterdam after next year, threatening the future of the institute and raising the prospect of relocation to Kenya . This wasn’t a decision made lightly.

    The Dutch government, which had championed the GCA since its founding, conducted extensive evaluations of its effectiveness, governance structures, and strategic direction.

    What they found troubled them enough to walk away from an organization operating from their own floating office on Rotterdam’s waterfront.

    The specific concerns raised by Dutch ministries remain largely opaque, shrouded in the carefully calibrated language of diplomatic disengagement.

    But the decision to defund speaks volumes.

    In wealthy European nations with robust civil society, independent media, and strong parliamentary oversight, questions about organizational effectiveness and governance can become impossible to ignore. The GCA faced those questions in the Netherlands and evidently could not provide satisfactory answers.

    Kenya, with far less institutional capacity to monitor and hold accountable powerful international actors, has instead opened the door wider, offering not just a new home but a legal fortress from which to operate.

    The parallels to another powerful foundation are impossible to ignore.

    In 2024, Kenya granted similar sweeping immunities to the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, only to suspend them after a public outcry and legal challenge.

    The Gates Foundation found itself accused of operating beyond democratic accountability, pursuing agendas that prioritized technological fixes over community-led solutions.

    The foundation quietly withdrew from pursuing a full host country agreement in April 2025, a tacit acknowledgment that the controversy had become untenable.

    Now, the same script is playing out with the GCA, and the Gates connection is more than coincidental.

    Bill Gates himself co-chaired the Global Commission on Adaptation alongside Ban Ki-moon and Kristalina Georgieva, the managing director of the International Monetary Fund.

    The Gates Foundation remains a key funder of GCA operations, creating a web of interconnected interests that extends from Seattle boardrooms to Kenyan soil.

    The immunities themselves are breathtaking in scope. The GCA’s premises cannot be entered by Kenyan authorities without consent.

    Its archives and documents are inviolable.

    It can import and export goods for official use without paying customs duties. Its assets cannot be seized or subjected to any form of administrative or legal process without explicit waiver.

    Officials and staff enjoy protection from legal proceedings related to their official duties, exemptions from income tax, and diplomatic-style privileges.

    For an organization working on climate adaptation, which inevitably involves land use, agricultural practices, and infrastructure projects that can displace communities or alter livelihoods, such blanket immunity raises profound questions.

    Consider a hypothetical scenario: The GCA partners with a Kenyan county government on a climate-resilient infrastructure project, perhaps a dam or irrigation system.

    The project displaces a farming community or disrupts water access downstream.

    Under normal circumstances, affected citizens could sue for compensation or seek injunctions. But if the GCA’s immunity shield holds, those legal avenues might be foreclosed.

    Or consider financial arrangements.

    The GCA works extensively on climate finance mechanisms, including carbon markets and adaptation funds.

    If disputes arise over the terms of these arrangements, if smallholder farmers claim they were misled about carbon credit agreements or that promised payments never materialized, would the GCA’s immunity prevent them from seeking legal remedy? The Order is silent on these questions.

    The carbon market dimension is particularly troubling given Verkooijen’s fingerprints on Kenya’s climate policy architecture.

    President William Ruto hosted The ‪Centre for Global Adaptation‬ officials where the deal was sealed to setup its headquarters in Nairobi.
    President William Ruto hosted The ‪Centre for Global Adaptation‬ officials where the deal was sealed to setup its headquarters in Nairobi.

    He is credited with shaping the contentious 2023 amendments to the Climate Change Act that opened the door to carbon trading, a mechanism that has sparked fierce debate globally about whether it represents genuine climate action or a new form of resource extraction wrapped in green rhetoric.

    In much of Africa, carbon offset schemes have been criticized for dispossessing communities of land rights, introducing opaque contractual arrangements, and prioritizing the climate accounting needs of distant corporations over local livelihoods.

    Now, the architect of these policies leads both the GCA and the University of Nairobi, positions that compound rather than check each other’s power.

    As chancellor, Verkooijen wields considerable influence over one of Africa’s premier research institutions.

    As GCA CEO, he leads an organization that benefits from Kenya’s climate policies and now enjoys extraordinary legal protections. The potential for these roles to reinforce each other in ways that serve institutional rather than public interests is obvious, yet no mechanism for managing this tension appears to exist.

    The parliamentary process that approved these privileges was cursory at best. The Departmental Committee on Environment, Forestry, and Mining issued a public call for views in July, giving interested parties just over two weeks to respond. The committee’s report, tabled and approved on September 30, offered little substantive analysis of potential downsides or alternative approaches. The debate lasted mere hours. Critical questions went unasked: Why does this organization require diplomatic immunity? What recourse will Kenyans have if harmed by GCA activities?

    On Kenyan social media, the response has been pointed. One widely shared post captured the prevailing mood: “Why should Kenya give an NGO immunity? Our leaders act like puppets for whose benefit? Not ours.”

    Another asked the most fundamental question: “If you’re here to help us adapt to climate change, why do you need immunity from our courts?”

    The physical co-location of the Environment Ministry within the GCA headquarters is perhaps the most brazen element of this arrangement.

    How can officials meaningfully oversee an organization that literally provides their office space, that cannot be investigated or audited, and whose CEO holds a position of power within Kenya’s premier university?

    The arrangement recalls situations in other sectors where regulatory capture has hollowed out government oversight. When regulators become physically and financially dependent on those they regulate, independence becomes theoretical rather than real.

    The Dutch withdrawal from funding the GCA should have prompted deep reflection in Nairobi about what the Netherlands had learned.

    Instead, it seems to have been interpreted as an opportunity, a chance to position Kenya as the GCA’s savior and primary host. But the Netherlands didn’t walk away because they misunderstood climate adaptation.

    They walked away because close examination revealed problems serious enough to justify cutting ties with an organization they had helped create and championed for years.

    For ordinary Kenyans, the abstraction of diplomatic immunity may feel remote from daily concerns about drought, flooding, and food security.

    But these legal frameworks shape who gets to make decisions about climate adaptation strategies and who benefits when adaptation projects unfold.

    They determine whether a farmer in Turkana or a fisher on Lake Victoria has any recourse if a climate project harms their livelihood.

    The sequence of events tells a story of calculated maneuvering.

    The December 2023 funding to the University of Nairobi, the January 2024 appointment of Verkooijen as chancellor, the May 2025 granting of immunities, the July 2025 groundbreaking ceremony, the September 2025 parliamentary approval, all while the Netherlands was backing away.

    Each step might have its own justification, but collectively they reveal an organization securing institutional footholds, building dependencies, and establishing legal protections that will make it nearly impossible to dislodge or hold accountable.

    As the GCA prepares to establish its full operations in Nairobi, with Kenya’s Environment Ministry operating from within its headquarters and diplomatic immunity shielding it from oversight, fundamental questions remain unanswered: In whose interests does this organization truly operate? Who will have the power to ask that question when things go wrong?

    And if the Netherlands, with all its resources and oversight capacity, decided this organization was not worth continued support, what does Kenya know that the Dutch do not?

    The privileges granted ensure that, should conflicts arise, the answers will be found outside Kenyan courtrooms, beyond the reach of Kenyan law, and probably beyond the influence of Kenyan citizens.

    That is not partnership. That is something else entirely, a form of climate colonialism where the language of cooperation masks relationships of subordination, where urgent global challenges justify arrangements that concentrate power and diffuse accountability.

    If this is what “climate partnership” looks like, then perhaps it’s time Kenya started asking who’s really adapting to whom.

  • Lea Maize Flour Producer Admits to Adding Chemicals to Make Ugali ‘Balloon’ as Experts Issue Warnings

    Lea Maize Flour Producer Admits to Adding Chemicals to Make Ugali ‘Balloon’ as Experts Issue Warnings

    Nairobi, Kenya – October 3, 2025 – A shocking admission by New Paleah Millers, the company behind Lea Premium Maize Flour, has ignited a firestorm of controversy after a senior representative openly revealed on national television that the firm adds multiple chemical improvers to their product to make ugali appear bigger, whiter, and sweeter.

    The revelation, captured during an NTV broadcast and subsequently amplified by renowned Kenyan nutritionist Amerix on social media, has sent shockwaves through households across the country, where maize flour remains the cornerstone of daily sustenance for millions of families.

    In the damning interview aired on NTV’s “Fixing the Nation” segment, Douglas Kuria, New Paleah Millers CEO casually disclosed that the company incorporates “over five improvers” into Lea Premium Maize Flour, including various fortificants and chemical agents designed to alter the flour’s physical properties and extend its shelf life to four months.

    “We add improvers to make the flour perform better, to make it balloon when cooking, and to give it a longer shelf life,” the representative stated matter-of-factly, seemingly oblivious to the alarm such an admission would trigger among health-conscious consumers.

    Screenshot

    The disclosure has been met with fury on social media, with Amerix, a prominent voice in Kenya’s nutrition and wellness community, leading the charge.

    In a series of scathing posts tagged #FoodFriday, Amerix warned Kenyans to “avoid eating processed maize flour,” claiming the products are manufactured from imported cornstarch and bleached with chlorine dioxide and benzoyl peroxide to achieve their characteristic white appearance.

    “They bleach with chlorine dioxide and benzoyl peroxide that is why it is white,” Amerix wrote, accompanying his posts with images of supermarket shelves stocked with multiple brands of processed maize flour. “Ever ask yourself why there are over 40 brands yet maize farmers are lamenting? Unlearn!”

    His message concluded with a stark warning: “Eat food, not products.”

    The timing of this revelation could not be worse for Kenya’s maize flour industry, which has been plagued by recurring safety scandals and mounting consumer distrust.

    While government-mandated fortification programs, enacted under the Food, Drugs and Chemical Substances Act of 2012, require the addition of vitamins and minerals to combat widespread micronutrient deficiencies, critics argue that these regulations have opened the floodgates for excessive chemical manipulation of basic foodstuffs.

    New Paleah Millers maintains that their chemical improvers are sourced with guidance from food scientists at Beckels and the Bula Group, companies that specialize in providing additives to ensure compatibility with maize varieties from different Kenyan regions.

    However, the company has conspicuously declined to provide a comprehensive list of exactly which chemicals are being added to their flour or in what quantities.

    This opacity has fueled suspicions among food safety advocates who point to the disturbing trend of millers prioritizing appearance and profitability over genuine nutritional value and consumer safety.

    Dr. Catherine Wanjiru, a food safety specialist at the Kenya Nutritionists and Dieticians Institute, expressed grave concern about the practice.

    “When companies start adding chemicals primarily to make food ‘look better’ rather than to improve its nutritional profile, we must ask: at what cost to public health? The chemicals used for bleaching and ‘improving’ texture are not nutrients. They’re processing agents, and some carry potential health risks with long-term exposure.”

    The controversy surrounding processed maize flour extends far beyond cosmetic additives. Kenya’s maize supply chain has been haunted by the specter of aflatoxin contamination for decades, with devastating consequences that have claimed lives and damaged the health of countless Kenyans.

    Aflatoxins, deadly carcinogenic compounds produced by Aspergillus fungi, thrive in improperly stored maize, particularly in humid conditions. The toxins are invisible, tasteless, and odorless, making them impossible for consumers to detect without laboratory testing.

    Screenshot

    The deadliest aflatoxin outbreak in Kenya’s history occurred in 2004, when contaminated homegrown maize stored under damp conditions killed over 125 people and sickened 317 others in eastern Kenya.

    The tragedy exposed catastrophic failures in Kenya’s food safety systems and storage practices that persist to this day.

    More recent incidents confirm the ongoing nature of this threat.

    In 2019, the Kenya Bureau of Standards suspended production of Dola and Kifaru maize flour brands after tests revealed aflatoxin levels exceeding the legal limit of 10 parts per billion. The contaminated products had already reached supermarket shelves before being recalled.

    Just last year, in 2024, the Ministry of Health ordered immediate seizures of Sherehe GSM maize flour following detection of dangerously high aflatoxin content. Inspectors raided mills and destroyed contaminated batches, but questions remained about how many consumers had already been exposed.

    What makes the current revelation about chemical additives particularly insidious is that fortification and “improvement” processes may actually mask the presence of aflatoxins and other contaminants in processed flour. By altering the color, texture, and appearance of maize flour through chemical treatment, millers could be concealing inferior or contaminated raw materials beneath a veneer of artificial enhancement.

    “When you bleach flour to make it artificially white, you’re potentially hiding discoloration that might signal fungal contamination or poor quality maize,” explained Dr. James Kimani, a toxicologist at Kenyatta University. “The improvers that make ugali ‘balloon’ could be compensating for nutritionally inferior or damaged grain. Consumers deserve to know what they’re really eating.”

    The practice of importing cornstarch for maize flour production, as alleged by Amerix, raises additional concerns about traceability and quality control. While some manufacturers blend imported cornstarch with local maize to extend supplies or reduce costs, this practice remains poorly regulated and rarely disclosed to consumers.

    The proliferation of maize flour brands in Kenya has created a paradox that troubles agricultural economists: while supermarket shelves groan under the weight of over 40 different maize flour brands, Kenya’s own maize farmers struggle with low prices, limited markets, and chronic unprofitability.

    This disconnect suggests that much of the maize flour consumed by Kenyans may not actually originate from Kenyan farms, but rather from imported cornstarch or maize from neighboring countries where production costs are lower and regulatory oversight may be lax.

    Moses Ndungu, chairman of the Kenya Maize Farmers Association, expressed frustration at the situation. “Our farmers produce high-quality maize but cannot compete with cheap imports and industrial cornstarch. Meanwhile, millers make huge profits by adding chemicals to make their products look and feel premium. Who really benefits from this system? Certainly not Kenyan farmers or consumers.”

    While aflatoxin contamination represents an inadvertent threat from poor storage and handling, the deliberate addition of chemical improvers and bleaching agents raises ethical questions about the food industry’s priorities.

    Benzoyl peroxide, commonly used to bleach flour and mentioned by Amerix, is approved by many food safety authorities in controlled amounts.

    However, critics note that it’s the same chemical used in acne treatments and industrial applications, and question why it needs to be in staple foods consumed daily by entire populations, including vulnerable children and pregnant women.

    Chlorine dioxide, another bleaching agent, is permitted as a flour treatment agent but has faced scrutiny over potential formation of chlorinated byproducts. The European Union banned its use in food production over a decade ago, yet it remains permissible in many other jurisdictions including Kenya.

    The phrase “over five improvers” used by the New Paleah Millers representative is particularly troubling because it suggests a complex cocktail of additives whose combined effects may never have been adequately studied.

    While individual chemicals may be deemed “safe” in isolation, the interaction effects of multiple additives consumed together, repeatedly, over years, remain poorly understood.

    Dr. Lucy Mwangi, a biochemist specializing in food additives, cautioned that regulatory frameworks have not kept pace with modern food processing practices.

    “We approve additives one by one based on toxicity studies, but we don’t adequately assess what happens when consumers are exposed to combinations of five, ten, or fifteen different chemicals in a single food product consumed three times daily for their entire lives.”

    In response to growing public concern, some experts advocate for a return to traditional food preparation methods that minimize industrial processing.

    Stone-ground maize flour, produced by local posho mills without chemical additives, offers an alternative for consumers willing to sacrifice convenience for authenticity.

    However, these traditional options come with their own risks.

    Unregulated small-scale mills lack the testing equipment to screen for aflatoxins, potentially exposing consumers to even greater danger than commercial products.

    Without proper moisture control and storage, home-milled or locally-milled maize can harbor deadly fungal toxins.

    The dilemma facing Kenyan consumers is stark: trust industrial processors who admit to extensive chemical manipulation, or return to traditional methods that may harbor invisible biological hazards.

    One promising solution receiving renewed attention is Aflasafe, a biocontrol technology developed specifically for African conditions.

    Aflasafe consists of harmless strains of Aspergillus fungi that outcompete the toxin-producing varieties, reducing aflatoxin contamination in maize fields by 80-100% before harvest.

    Approved for use in Kenya and adopted across multiple African countries, Aflasafe addresses the problem at its source rather than relying on downstream testing and rejection of contaminated grain.

    However, adoption rates among Kenyan smallholder farmers remain disappointingly low, hampered by limited awareness, distribution challenges, and upfront costs that many farmers cannot afford.

    Agricultural extension officers report that many farmers remain unaware that the fungi causing aflatoxin contamination can be prevented through pre-harvest biocontrol, instead focusing solely on post-harvest drying and storage.

    Screenshot

    In the wake of the New Paleah Millers admission, consumer advocacy groups are demanding greater transparency from all maize flour producers.

    Calls are mounting for mandatory disclosure of all chemical additives on product labels, not buried in fine print but prominently displayed so consumers can make informed choices.

    “We have a right to know exactly what chemicals are in our food and why they’re there,” said Grace Akinyi, founder of the Kenyan Food Consumers Network. “If a company is adding five or more improvers to make ugali balloon, we need to know what those improvers are, whether they’re necessary for nutrition or just for profit, and what the long-term health effects might be.”

    The Kenya Bureau of Standards, which oversees food safety regulations, has remained conspicuously silent since the NTV interview aired. Multiple attempts by The Star to reach KEBS officials for comment were unsuccessful, with calls and messages going unanswered.

    This silence has only intensified public speculation about potential regulatory capture or industry influence over food safety oversight.

    As the controversy intensifies online, with Amerix’s posts generating thousands of shares and comments, a broader conversation is emerging about Kenya’s food system and the erosion of traditional foodways in favor of industrialized, chemically-enhanced products marketed as “improvements.”

    Many Kenyans are now questioning whether the march toward modern food processing has actually improved their nutrition and health, or merely enriched processors while exposing consumers to novel risks that previous generations never faced.

    The stark images shared by Amerix showing supermarket aisles dominated by dozens of identical-looking bags of ultra-white maize flour have become a symbol of this anxiety. Each pristine package represents not traditional food but an industrial product engineered for appearance, shelf-stability, and profitability rather than optimal nutrition.

    For now, health experts recommend that consumers concerned about chemical additives and aflatoxin contamination take several precautions: diversify grain consumption beyond maize to include millet, sorghum, and other traditional cereals; purchase maize flour from reputable brands that provide transparent ingredient information; store flour in cool, dry conditions and use it quickly; and consider whole-grain options that undergo less processing.

    Above all, consumers should demand accountability from food manufacturers and regulators. The casual admission by New Paleah Millers that they add multiple chemical improvers to make ugali “balloon” should not be normalized or accepted as standard industry practice without rigorous public scrutiny.

    As one commenter on Amerix’s viral post succinctly put it: “Our grandparents ate maize flour without chemicals and lived healthy lives. Why do we suddenly need five improvers to make ugali? Who asked for this?”

    It’s a question that New Paleah Millers, the broader maize flour industry, and Kenya’s food safety regulators have yet to adequately answer.

    Until they do, millions of Kenyans will continue consuming their daily ugali with a new and unsettling awareness that their staple food has become a science experiment whose long-term consequences remain unknown.

    (Click to watch the video)

    c724fc581629c8a3ef3b1fe0cf81f725f2c880a4

    Kenya Insights has reached out to New Paleah Millers for detailed comment on the specific chemical improvers used in Lea Premium Maize Flour and the health and safety testing conducted on the final product. This story will be updated if and when the company responds.

  • Kenya Secures $1.5bn in Oversubscribed Bond Issue as Investor Confidence Returns

    Kenya Secures $1.5bn in Oversubscribed Bond Issue as Investor Confidence Returns

    Nairobi raises funds at lower rates while retiring expensive Eurobond early in latest sign of economic stabilisation

    Kenya has raised $1.5bn from international investors in a heavily oversubscribed bond sale that attracted five times the targeted amount, marking a significant turnaround in investor sentiment towards the East African economy.

    The dual-tranche transaction, which drew more than $7.5bn in bids from fund managers predominantly based in the United States and United Kingdom, allowed Nairobi to secure financing at substantially lower rates than earlier in the year.

    The government issued a seven-year bond at 7.875 per cent and a 12-year instrument at 8.8 per cent, achieving a blended rate of 8.7 per cent—a full percentage point below what it would have paid in January.

    The funds will enable Kenya to retire $1bn of its 2028 Eurobond ahead of schedule, the third such debt management operation since 2024.

    The early repayment strategy represents a departure from the country’s previous approach and signals President William Ruto’s administration is prioritising fiscal discipline following months of economic turbulence.

    Kenya’s ability to access international capital markets on favourable terms comes after a turbulent period that saw violent protests erupt in June over proposed tax increases.

    The demonstrations, which left dozens dead, forced Ruto to withdraw the finance bill and undertake a cabinet reshuffle. The political crisis had raised concerns about the country’s ability to service its external obligations and maintain macroeconomic stability.

    The successful bond issuance suggests investors have regained confidence in Kenya’s economic trajectory, despite the country’s debt burden remaining elevated at approximately 70 per cent of GDP.

    Treasury Principal Secretary Chris Kiptoo said the transaction would “ease pressure on taxpayers and keep the economy stable while creating room to fund development priorities such as roads, health and education.”

    The oversubscription—a key metric of investor demand—indicates that international fund managers view Kenya’s reform efforts as credible.

    The country has been implementing a comprehensive debt management strategy that includes refinancing expensive commercial loans, extending maturity profiles and reducing rollover risks.

    By lengthening the repayment schedule through the new bonds, Kenya has created additional fiscal space that could prove crucial should external conditions deteriorate.

    The transaction represents the latest in a series of liability management exercises undertaken by African sovereigns seeking to restructure their debt profiles.

    Ghana and Zambia remain locked in protracted debt restructuring negotiations with creditors, while Ethiopia recently completed a debt treatment under the G20’s Common Framework.

    Kenya’s ability to access markets voluntarily, rather than through distressed restructuring, distinguishes its position within the region.

    However, challenges remain.

    Kenya’s interest payments continue to consume a substantial portion of government revenues, limiting resources available for public services and infrastructure investment.

    The shilling has depreciated significantly over the past two years, raising the local currency cost of servicing dollar-denominated debt. Inflation, while moderating, remains above the central bank’s target range.

    The bond proceeds will also help Kenya navigate a challenging external environment characterised by elevated global interest rates and reduced appetite for emerging market risk.

    The country faces additional Eurobond maturities in the coming years, including a $2bn bond due in 2024 that will test the government’s debt management capabilities.

    For now, treasury officials will view the transaction as validation of their fiscal consolidation efforts and a demonstration that Kenya retains access to international capital markets.

    Whether this marks a sustainable improvement in the country’s debt dynamics or merely provides temporary relief will depend on the government’s ability to boost revenues, contain expenditure and maintain political stability in the face of domestic opposition to austerity measures.

    The successful issuance may also provide a template for other African nations seeking to refinance expensive debt, though replicating Kenya’s access to markets will depend on each country’s specific economic fundamentals and reform credentials.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

  • Ex-MUA Kenya Chief Kibaara Battles Sh1.6 Billion Fraud Storm

    Ex-MUA Kenya Chief Kibaara Battles Sh1.6 Billion Fraud Storm

    Former CEO denies wrongdoing, accuses insurer of breaching separation deal as Sh1.6 billion scandal rocks Mauritian firm

    A bitter legal war is brewing between former MUA Kenya Chief Executive Officer Lydia W. Kibaara and her former employer, following explosive revelations of a Sh1.6 billion fraud that has left the insurance subsidiary on its knees and begging regulators for a capital lifeline.

    Kibaara, who left the insurer earlier this year under what she insists was a mutual separation agreement, now finds herself at the center of one of Kenya’s most significant insurance scandals in recent years, after MUA Group disclosed in September that it had uncovered hidden liabilities dating back to 2017.

    Through her legal team at Danstan Omari and Shadrack Wambui Associates, the veteran insurance executive has fired back with both barrels, threatening to drag MUA and Business Daily newspaper to court for what she terms as a calculated campaign to destroy her reputation and career.

    The explosive confrontation follows a September 23 Business Daily article that disclosed MUA Group’s Sh1.63 billion write-down after discovering hidden liabilities in its Kenyan subsidiary. But it is the claim that Kibaara was “dismissed” for fraud that has ignited a firestorm.

    “These allegations are manifestly false. Our client was never dismissed; she left under the negotiated mutual separation agreement. She was never accused of fraud or impropriety,” Wambui stated in a demand letter that has sent ripples through the insurance industry.

    At the heart of Kibaara’s fury is what her lawyers describe as a blatant breach of Clause 10 of her separation agreement with MUA, a non-disparagement clause that bound both parties to refrain from making statements that would bring the other into disrepute.

    The clause, her legal team argues, was the product of “balanced, good-faith negotiation, culminating in an orderly and amicable separation.”

    Yet MUA’s investor presentation painted a damning picture, revealing that between 2017 and 2020, reinsurance balances in the local subsidiary were “significantly overstated,” and stating that the findings led to the dismissal of the CEO.

    The overstatement of reinsurance balances meant the company was recording higher-than-expected recoveries from reinsurers when in reality, it owed more.

    The review confirmed that the insurer’s probable future payouts were higher than existing reserves in several cases, meaning it was setting aside too little money to pay for future claims.

    In the breakdown of the Sh1.63 billion hit, MUA had to increase net payables to reinsurers by Sh507 million, raise case reserves by Sh539 million, increase incurred-but-not-reported reserves by Sh242 million, and impair goodwill by Sh340 million.

    The scandal has left MUA Kenya in a precarious financial position.

    The correction of errors has left the subsidiary requiring fresh capital injection to continue operating, prompting the parent company to open talks with the Insurance Regulatory Authority over recapitalization. In its investor presentation ominously titled “Out of the Storm,” MUA admitted that “Kenya remains fragile and requires recapitalization.”

    But Kibaara’s lawyers are having none of it.

    They argue that their client, who boasts a 27-year career in the insurance industry with senior roles at blue-chip firms including Britam and Jubilee Insurance before leading Saham Assurance Kenya, has been painted as the villain in a crisis that predates her tenure.

    Kibaara held senior roles at Britam, Jubilee, and Saham Assurance before joining MUA , and her record has been free of disciplinary, criminal, or regulatory infractions .

    The timing of the alleged fraud adds weight to her defense. MUA entered Kenya in 2014 by acquiring Phoenix of East Africa Assurance Company and renaming it MUA Kenya.

    The local operation in July 2020 then acquired Saham Kenya for $12.325 million and integrated it into MUA Kenya.

    The misstatements allegedly occurred between 2017 and 2020, a period that straddles multiple leadership changes and two major acquisitions.

    MUA first raised red flags in March 2024, when it disclosed in a cautionary statement that provisional findings of reviews indicated understatement of liabilities in MUA Kenya’s accounts dating back from 2017 onward.

    At that time, the firm stated the understatement would “not meaningfully affect the financial health nor solvency of the group.”

    How things have changed.

    The one-off adjustments in Kenya pushed MUA Group into a 266 million Mauritian rupees loss in 2023, reversing what had otherwise been a steady growth trajectory.

    The costly liabilities triggered sweeping corrective measures including a forensic audit by PriceWaterhouseCoopers, leadership reshuffles in Kenya, and strengthened internal controls across East African operations.

    The group also expanded its oversight of reinsurance and claims reserving, requiring external experts to review open claims annually.

    Kibaara’s legal team has given Business Daily seven days to publish an unconditional apology with equal prominence and engage in good-faith negotiations on damages for breach of contract and reputational harm.

    They have also demanded that MUA formally acknowledge breaching the separation agreement.

    “The prejudice suffered by our client is grave. She has been portrayed publicly as dishonest and fraudulent, imputations that have caused her humiliation, distress, and untold reputational damage, both personally and professionally,” her lawyers stated.

    When Kibaara engaged the newspaper about the publication, they claim Business Daily admitted the statements came from MUA but sought to qualify the matter by alleging they had “misquoted” or “misinterpreted” the company.

    The insurance sector is now watching closely as this drama unfolds. For Kibaara, the stakes could not be higher.

    A career built over nearly three decades hangs in the balance. For MUA, the question remains whether it can stabilize its Kenyan operations while managing the legal and reputational fallout from a scandal that has exposed serious governance failures.

    MUA has initiated legal actions to recover part of the damages, but it may find itself fighting on multiple fronts if Kibaara makes good on her threat to sue.

    The Insurance Regulatory Authority, which is now in discussions with MUA over recapitalization, has remained conspicuously silent on how such massive liabilities could have gone undetected for years, raising uncomfortable questions about the quality of oversight in Kenya’s insurance sector.

    As the legal letters fly and battle lines are drawn, one thing is clear: this is a fight that will test not just the strength of separation agreements and non-disparagement clauses, but also the reputation of everyone involved.

    In the unforgiving world of insurance, where trust is currency, both sides have everything to lose.

  • Elaborate Con: How KRA Busted Baba Dogo Firm in Sh810M Tax Evasion Scam

    Elaborate Con: How KRA Busted Baba Dogo Firm in Sh810M Tax Evasion Scam

    Ruaraka-based Oki General Trading now fighting for survival as taxman unmasks elaborate scheme involving ghost companies, missing customs duties, and brazen theft of public funds

    In what investigators are calling one of the most audacious tax fraud schemes to hit Kenya’s fragile economy, the Kenya Revenue Authority has cornered Oki General Trading Limited—a Baba Dogo area firm masquerading as a legitimate procurement company in an eye-watering Sh827 million tax evasion racket that has left the taxman scrambling to recover stolen public funds.

    The elaborate con, which investigators say was executed with surgical precision over four years, involved a sophisticated web of phantom transactions, manipulated import declarations, and systematic looting disguised as “business withdrawals” by directors who treated Kenya’s tax system like their personal ATM.

    At the heart of this financial heist sits Oki General Trading Kenya Limited, a Ruaraka-based outfit that has now been dragged before the Tax Appeals Tribunal after KRA’s forensic audit ripped apart the veneer of legitimacy and exposed what investigators describe as “brazen economic sabotage.”

    The numbers are staggering.

    Between October 2020 and December 2024, the firm allegedly evaded Corporate Income Tax of Sh162.9 million on what KRA terms “ghost stock”—inventory that mysteriously appeared in financial statements but had no corresponding import documentation or customs clearance.

    Another Sh53.4 million in corporate tax vanished through disallowed import costs and VAT-exempt purchases that investigators say were fabricated to inflate expenses and shrink tax liability.

    But the real smoking gun emerged when KRA forensic teams combed through bank statements from Ecobank and Absa Bank.

    What they found was jaw-dropping: a staggering Sh604.6 million withdrawn by four individuals—Honey Katwani, Anil Kumar Ramchandani, Jatin Aswani, and Jayesh Soni in what the company laughably claims were “petty cash disbursements” for office supplies and employee lunches.

    Petty cash running into over half a billion shillings? KRA wasn’t buying it.

    The taxman immediately slapped a PAYE assessment of Sh216.4 million on these withdrawals, arguing that the funds constituted undeclared employment income. Oki General Trading’s defense that these were business expenses for buying staplers and samosas has been dismissed by tax investigators as insulting to public intelligence.

    “These were not business expenses. This was systematic theft dressed up in accounting jargon,” a senior KRA official told Kenya Insights on condition of anonymity.

    “When you withdraw over Sh600 million and call it petty cash, you’re either running the world’s most expensive stationery shop or you’re stealing from Kenyans.”

    The scandal deepens with the firm’s alleged connection to a murky network of shell companies, particularly Satnam Limited, through which investigators say millions in fraudulent transactions were channeled to evade detection.

    KRA has assessed additional VAT of Sh5.7 million and Corporate Income Tax of Sh10.8 million on sales that Oki allegedly understated by routing them through Satnam.

    Oki vehemently denies any link to Satnam, claiming instead that one of its former directors, Honey Khatwani—the same man featured prominently in those mysterious Sh604 million withdrawals—actually stole Sh356 million from the company and funneled it through various entities including Satnam Limited.

    The plot thickens: Khatwani is currently facing criminal charges, and the High Court has already entered judgment against him, ordering him, his wife, and two associates to repay Sh362.2 million.

    Yet somehow, Oki expects Kenyans to believe that the same director they now accuse of theft was making legitimate “petty cash” withdrawals from their accounts for years without raising red flags.

    Honey Khatwani.
    Honey Khatwani.

    The contradictions are glaring.

    If Khatwani was a thief, why was he allowed unfettered access to company accounts? Why did Oki’s internal controls—assuming any existed not detect over half a billion shillings walking out the door? And why is the company now fighting tooth and nail against paying PAYE on these “stolen” funds?

    KRA’s audit also uncovered what appears to be a classic customs fraud scheme.

    The authority disallowed imports worth Sh349.2 million, claiming customs duty was never paid.

    Additionally, investigators assessed VAT of Sh86.8 million on stock reconciliation variances—the difference between what Oki claimed to have imported and what actually showed up in their warehouses and financial books.

    The firm’s response? There were no variances.

    The stock matched perfectly. The imports were all legitimate.

    But when KRA demanded to see asset registers and proof of ownership for capital allowances claimed, the company couldn’t produce them, resulting in a further Sh2.1 million tax hit.

    This is the pattern investigators say defines Oki’s operations: elaborate paperwork when it suits them, missing documentation when scrutiny arrives, and a revolving door of explanations that change depending on which tax liability is being challenged.

    The procurement firm, which positions itself as a global logistics player with operations spanning the Middle East, Africa, and Asia, has built its business model around providing “comprehensive procurement solutions” for everything from foodstuffs to relief supplies in conflict zones.

    Yet in Kenya, its operations appear designed around one core competency: exploiting regulatory loopholes to avoid paying what it owes.

    Industry insiders familiar with Oki’s modus operandi describe a company that has perfected the art of the “shell shuffle”—constantly rotating transactions through dormant companies with outstanding tax obligations to make tracking liabilities nearly impossible.

    Import documentation filed under one entity would mysteriously migrate to another within days, erasing the paper trail and shielding the real beneficiaries from accountability.

    “They operate like a three-card monte game,” said one customs clearing agent who requested anonymity. “By the time KRA figures out which company actually imported the goods, the duty has been grossly underpaid and the merchandise is already in the market.”

    The Satnam connection is particularly revealing. According to investigations exposed in multiple media reports earlier this year, Oki was linked to a sophisticated scheme involving the illegal importation of perfumes worth over USD 300,000—approximately Sh39 million—which were fraudulently cleared into Kenya with only Sh2 million in duty paid.

    The initial entry was filed under Satnam Limited, a company drowning in unpaid taxes.

    Almost immediately, the documentation was transferred to Satnam Kenya Investment Limited, conveniently shielding the transaction from scrutiny.

    Investigators describe this as textbook Rajoriya strategy—named after Deepak Rajoriya, Oki’s director, who along with associate Karan Badlani has been implicated in what authorities call a systematic campaign to defraud Kenya’s tax system.

    Badlani himself presents another red flag.

    The Satnam director reportedly lived and operated in Kenya for over two and a half years without a valid visa, openly flouting immigration and tax laws while conducting business with apparent impunity.

    That he managed to do so raises disturbing questions about regulatory capture and whether Oki’s network enjoyed protection from oversight authorities.

    The economic cost of schemes like Oki’s cannot be overstated.

    Every shilling evaded is a shilling stolen from hospitals, schools, roads, and the social services that ordinary Kenyans desperately need.

    While directors withdraw hundreds of millions for “petty cash,” patients die in understaffed health facilities and children learn under trees because county governments cannot afford classrooms.

    This is not victimless crime. This is economic terrorism.

    Oki General Trading’s decision to challenge KRA’s assessment before the Tax Appeals Tribunal is its legal right.

    But the optics are terrible.

    A company that claims to have been robbed of Sh356 million by its own director is simultaneously fighting not to pay taxes on Sh604 million that same director and his associates withdrew.

    A firm that insists its books are clean cannot produce basic documentation like asset registers when auditors come calling.

    The case now before the Tribunal will test whether Kenya’s tax justice system has the teeth to hold accountable firms that treat compliance as optional and taxpayers as fools.

    Oki is challenging virtually every aspect of KRA’s Sh827 million assessment—from the PAYE on director withdrawals to the VAT on phantom stock variances to the customs duty on imports that may never have been properly declared.

    The company’s defense boils down to this: Trust us. Our books are accurate.

    The withdrawals were legitimate business expenses. The imports were all properly cleared. The stock variances don’t exist. And any evidence suggesting otherwise is a misapplication of law and fact by KRA.

    But trust, in tax matters, must be earned through transparency, documentation, and consistent compliance. Oki General Trading’s track record suggests none of these exist.

    As this case grinds through the appeals process, Kenyans watching will wonder: How many other firms are running similar schemes? How much revenue is bleeding from the economy while companies play shell games with tax obligations? And most importantly, will anyone actually be held accountable, or will this end with a negotiated settlement that allows the perpetrators to pay a fraction of what they owe and return to business as usual?

    The Kenya Revenue Authority, for its part, appears determined to make an example of Oki.

    The Sh827 million assessment, revised upward from the initial Sh810 million demand, sends a clear message: the days of treating Kenya as a tax haven for connected operators are over.

    Whether the Tax Appeals Tribunal agrees remains to be seen. But one thing is certain—the spotlight is now squarely on Oki General Trading Limited, and the harsh glare of scrutiny is revealing a company whose explanations for how it does business raise far more questions than they answer.

    For a firm that claims to operate with integrity across three continents, its Kenyan operations increasingly resemble a masterclass in creative accounting, strategic amnesia, and brazen contempt for tax law.

    The Tribunal’s decision will determine whether Kenya’s economy continues to be drained by operators who view compliance as a nuisance, or whether the era of unchecked tax evasion has finally met its reckoning in Baba Dogo.

  • Exposed: How Debt-Ridden Tanzanian Tycoon Plans to Loot EAPC’s Sh21 Billion Land to Save Crumbling Bamburi Empire

    Exposed: How Debt-Ridden Tanzanian Tycoon Plans to Loot EAPC’s Sh21 Billion Land to Save Crumbling Bamburi Empire

    What began as a straightforward corporate acquisition has morphed into one of Kenya’s most contentious industrial deals, with Tanzanian businessman Edhah Abdallah Munif’s bid to acquire East African Portland Cement now facing accusations of being a calculated asset-stripping scheme disguised as investment.

    Fresh revelations emerging from parliamentary hearings and leaked briefings paint a troubling picture: a debt-laden investor attempting to acquire a newly profitable cement maker not to grow it, but to cannibalize its assets to rescue his failing Bamburi Cement operation.

    The deal’s optics have deteriorated sharply. Munif’s offer of Sh27.30 per share for a 29.2 percent stake in EAPC valuing the transaction at Sh718.7 million stands at less than half the company’s market price of Sh61.75.

    More strikingly, it represents a fraction of EAPC’s book value of Sh20.4 billion, with the company sitting on assets worth Sh35.19 billion, including 4,626 acres of prime freehold land.

    Parliament’s Trade, Industry and Cooperatives Committee has raised alarm bells over what MPs describe as a “substantially below market” transaction that undermines fairness and potentially threatens public interest.

    Committee vice-chairperson Maryanne Kitany questioned whether the acquisition would grant Munif’s vehicle, Kalahari Cement Limited, effective dominance over EAPC’s board decisions despite not having outright control.

    The concerns extend beyond mere pricing. Combined with his full ownership of Bamburi Cement, acquired last December for Sh23.6 billion, Munif would control 41.75 percent of EAPC, making him the single largest shareholder in a company where government entities the Treasury and National Social Security Fund hold 25 percent and 27 percent respectively.

    This concentration would give Munif board-level influence across two firms commanding 31 percent of Kenya’s 14.5 million tonne annual cement production capacity.

    EAPC Board Chairman Richard Mbithi warned MPs that the transaction would fundamentally alter the company’s governance dynamics, shifting power from multiple significant shareholders to a single controlling interest.

    The real danger, industry insiders suggest, lies in potential cross-pollination of strategic information between competing cement makers, including pricing strategies, market intelligence and operational secrets that could distort competition.

    But the plot thickens when examining Munif’s financial position.

    Sources familiar with Bamburi’s operations reveal the company is servicing crushing debt obligations of approximately Sh300 million monthly, stemming from the leveraged buyout financed largely through a Sh23 billion loan from KCB, with Munif reportedly contributing only Sh3 billion in equity.

    To meet these obligations, Bamburi has allegedly begun liquidating valuable assets, including staff quarters and portions of its land holdings in Mombasa, with even the iconic Haller Park reportedly on the auction block.

    This desperate financial situation has fueled suspicions that Munif’s interest in EAPC centers not on its cement production capabilities, but on its extensive land bank valued at over Sh21 billion.

    Critics argue the acquisition represents an opportunistic play to secure liquidatable assets that could be stripped to plug Bamburi’s financing gaps, potentially leaving EAPC operationally gutted and shareholders nursing massive losses.

    The timing appears calculated.

    EAPC has undergone a remarkable turnaround, with its share price surging 716 percent from Sh7.20 to current levels within twelve months, making it the Nairobi Securities Exchange’s top performer.

    The company has restored profitability after twelve years of losses, operates at 85 percent capacity, and pays salaries promptly.

    Yet Munif’s offer would value this success story at barely one-ninth of its net assets.

    Adding to the controversy, the Attorney General’s office has confirmed it provided no approvals, opinions or certifications for the proposed sale, and expressed concern that critical steps around public participation, constitutional compliance and protection against asset exploitation were not undertaken.

    Attorney General Ms. Dorcas Odour
    Attorney General Ms. Dorcas Odour

    The AG’s representatives told Parliament they had not reviewed transaction documents, making it impossible to guarantee protection of strategic national interests.

    More disturbing are allegations of improper influence.

    Sources indicate officials in the AG’s office face pressure from State House and individuals close to President William Ruto to retroactively approve the transaction.

    A coordinated public relations campaign, allegedly orchestrated by the same firm previously hired for the controversial Adani JKIA deal and working with State House’s digital team, has reportedly been mounted to discredit EAPC’s current leadership and silence opposition to the sale.

    The Competition Authority of Kenya has adopted a hands-off stance, with Director-General David Kemei telling Parliament the transaction doesn’t constitute a merger requiring review since the 41.7 percent stake wouldn’t grant direct control or veto rights.

    This interpretation, however, ignores the practical reality of board influence and the risks of information sharing between competing entities under common beneficial ownership.

    Capital Markets Authority CEO Wycliffe Shamiah acknowledged the pricing concerns but claimed powerlessness to intervene, arguing the consideration reflects a negotiated agreement between willing parties.

    He attributed EAPC’s volatile share price to speculative trading following Holcim’s announced exit from African markets.

    Industry executives aren’t buying these explanations. “This is not a growth acquisition. It’s a distress-driven play to strip EAPC of its assets to rescue Bamburi,” said one senior figure familiar with the matter.

    The absence of any announced capital investment plan or operational enhancement strategy for EAPC reinforces this view.

    EAPC’s board has proposed an alternative: conduct a share buyback of Holcim’s stake, then reissue the shares through a structured process that would deepen Kenya’s capital markets and give local investors, including ordinary Kenyans, an opportunity to participate.

    The company confirmed it has sufficient cash reserves to execute this strategy without external financing.

    The proposal aligns with the Companies Act 2015 and EAPC’s Articles of Association requirements that Munif’s transaction allegedly violates.

    It would also prevent the concentration risk that linking two heavily indebted cement makers under one beneficial owner would create.

    For Kenya, the stakes extend beyond one company.

    Allowing EAPC, a strategic national asset with decades of industrial heritage, to be acquired at fire-sale prices by a financially distressed investor raises fundamental questions about regulatory oversight, elite capture, and whether existing safeguards adequately protect critical industries from speculative raiders.

    The broader concern is whether this represents a pattern.

    How Munif secured Sh23 billion in financing with apparently limited collateral remains unexplained.

    If the EAPC transaction proceeds despite glaring compliance gaps, regulatory red flags, and absence of due process, it would signal that Kenya’s industrial crown jewels are available to well-connected buyers willing to pay pennies on the dollar, regardless of their financial stability or genuine investment intent.

    Parliament now faces a critical decision. Allowing this transaction to proceed could trigger mass layoffs, market instability, and the effective conversion of EAPC into a branch office servicing Bamburi’s debt rather than an independent competitor.

    Blocking it would send an important message that strategic assets cannot be seized through undervalued deals lacking proper legal foundation and transparent process.

    The Attorney General, Capital Markets Authority, Competition Authority and EAPC’s board must now answer whether protecting one investor’s interests outweighs safeguarding thousands of jobs, shareholder value, market competition, and the principle that national assets deserve transparent, lawful and commercially sound transactions.

    As one shareholder put it bluntly: “EAPC is a strategic national asset. Allowing it to be used as collateral to fix a failing investment elsewhere is not just bad business, it’s bad policy.”

    Whether regulators and political leadership agree will determine not just EAPC’s fate, but Kenya’s credibility in protecting its industrial base from opportunistic acquisition.

  • Credit Bank Defies Court Order in Land Seizure as It Faces Existential Threat Over Sh1.7bn Capital Black Hole

    Credit Bank Defies Court Order in Land Seizure as It Faces Existential Threat Over Sh1.7bn Capital Black Hole

    Desperate lender accused of flouting High Court injunction while racing December deadline that could strip its banking license

    Cash-strapped Credit Bank Plc is fighting for survival on two fronts: a mounting legal crisis over allegations it brazenly defied a High Court order to seize land in Loresho, and a ticking regulatory time bomb that could see it stripped of its commercial banking license in less than three months.

    The embattled mid-tier lender stands accused of forcefully taking over prime property in Loresho despite an explicit court injunction forbidding any sale, transfer, or occupation.

    Landowners claim the bank colluded with land registry officials to illegally alter ownership records, with bank-affiliated security personnel blocking access and behaving as though the property had been lawfully acquired.

    Court documents reportedly show clear restraining orders against such actions, yet witnesses say these directives were openly violated—raising alarming questions about whether financially distressed institutions are willing to trample the rule of law to survive.

    The alleged land grab comes as Credit Bank faces an existential threat.

    With core capital of just Sh1.28 billion, the lender must raise an additional Sh1.72 billion by December 2025 to meet the Central Bank of Kenya’s new Sh3 billion minimum threshold.

    Failure means downgrade to microfinance status or outright license revocation.

    But the capital shortfall is merely the visible wound of a deeper hemorrhage.

    Industry sources reveal that approximately 60 percent of Credit Bank’s loan book is classified as non-performing—meaning three out of every five borrowers have stopped paying.

    This represents one of the worst delinquency ratios in Kenya’s entire banking sector and has pushed accumulated losses to Sh2.18 billion as of end-2024.

    The bank’s liquidity ratio has collapsed to 15.1 percent, well below the statutory 20 percent minimum, leaving it starved of cash to meet daily obligations.

    Auditors PricewaterhouseCoopers have cast explicit doubt on Credit Bank’s ability to continue as a going concern, warning that “material uncertainty exists” about its survival.

    It is against this backdrop of financial catastrophe that the Loresho controversy has erupted. Credit Bank has publicly announced plans to “aggressively sell collateral” and “complete stalled projects” to generate desperately needed liquidity.

    The disputed land seizure appears to fit this pattern—a lender so cornered it may be willing to defy court orders to squeeze value from any available asset.

    Legal experts warn that if the contempt allegations are proven, Credit Bank could face sanctions that would further destabilize its already precarious regulatory position.

    The reputational damage alone could prove fatal for an institution already struggling to maintain depositor confidence.

    The scale of Credit Bank’s loan book deterioration has sparked uncomfortable questions. How did 60 percent of loans turn bad? Were insiders given preferential treatment? Was collateral properly assessed or deliberately inflated? Did governance mechanisms simply collapse?

    Analysts suggest such extreme delinquency points not to economic headwinds but to systemic mismanagement or worse.

    Credit Bank is one of eleven commercial banks collectively facing a Sh15.04 billion capital deficit against the December deadline.

    Others include Consolidated Bank of Kenya (Sh3.7 billion shortfall), Access Bank Kenya (Sh3.4 billion), UBA Kenya (Sh1.51 billion), and CIB International Bank (Sh1.09 billion).

    The Business Laws (Amendment) Act, 2024 requires progressive capital increases to Sh10 billion by 2029—Sh3 billion by end-2025, then Sh5 billion, Sh7 billion, Sh8 billion, and finally Sh10 billion in successive years.

    CBK Governor Dr Kamau Thugge has defended the standards as necessary to strengthen sector resilience, predicting they will trigger consolidation through mergers and acquisitions.

    For banks missing the December target, the CBK has outlined stark options: downgrade to microfinance status (requiring just Sh60 million capital), extended deadlines for struggling lenders, or law amendments to allow tiered capital requirements for niche players.

    Some foreign-owned banks have secured parent company lifelines.

    UBA Kenya is pursuing capital injection from Nigeria’s UBA Plc. Ecobank Transnational injected Sh3.5 billion into its Kenyan unit in March.

    Dubai Islamic Bank has a Sh6.7 billion standby facility from its UAE parent.

    HF Group successfully raised Sh6 billion through a rights issue, vaulting it above the threshold into tier II status.

    Credit Bank, linked to the family of late politician Simeon Nyachae, has fewer obvious options.

    Plans to list on the Nairobi Securities Exchange’s Unquoted Securities Platform may struggle to attract investors given the scale of accumulated losses and asset quality deterioration.

    Management led by CEO Betty Korir has indicated willingness to negotiate with defaulters and pursue aggressive debt collection. But these measures appear inadequate against the twin challenges of capital inadequacy and a loan book in meltdown.

    The Loresho land dispute represents more than a legal skirmish—it symbolizes how far a desperate institution might go when cornered.

    For the affected landowners, it’s a fight to protect their property. For Credit Bank, it may be a last-ditch attempt to salvage assets.

    For Kenya’s banking sector, it’s a cautionary tale of what happens when weak governance meets regulatory tightening.

    The next three months will determine whether Credit Bank can navigate this perfect storm or becomes one of the most dramatic bank failures in Kenya’s recent history.

    With the December deadline approaching and legal troubles mounting, the lender appears to be running out of both time and options.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

  • Musk Becomes World’s First Half-Trillionaire

    Musk Becomes World’s First Half-Trillionaire

    Tesla boss Elon Musk has become the first person ever to achieve a net worth of more than $500bn (£370.9bn), as the value of the electric car company and his other businesses have risen this year.

    The tech magnate’s net worth briefly reached $500.1bn on Wednesday afternoon New York time, before dipping slightly to just over $499bn later in the day, the Forbes’ billionaires index reported.

    Alongside Tesla, valuations of his other ventures, including the artificial intelligence startup xAI and rocket company SpaceX, have also reportedly climbed in recent months.

    The milestone further cements Musk’s status as the world’s richest person, well ahead of rivals in the global tech sector.

    According to Forbes’ billionaires index, Oracle founder Larry Ellison is the world’s second richest person, with a fortune of about $350.7bn.

    Mr Ellison briefly overtook Musk last month after shares in Oracle soared by more than 40%, boosted by the firm’s surprisingly rosy outlook for its cloud infrastructure business and artificial intelligence (AI) deals.

    Musk’s huge wealth is closely tied to his more than 12% stake in Tesla, which has seen its shares rise sharply this year.

    Tesla shares were more than 3.3% higher at the end of New York trading on Wednesday and have now risen by over 20% this year.

    The company’s shares have been making gains in recent months as investors welcome Musk focusing more time on his companies rather than politics.

    He faced criticism earlier this year over his work with the Trump administration’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), the body tasked with reducing US government spending and cutting jobs.

    Musk, who also owns the X social media platform, has also been vocal about his views on issues such as immigration and diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programmes.

    The chair of Tesla’s board, Robyn Denholm, said in September that Musk was now “front and centre” at the carmaker.

    The company’s board also said Musk could receive a pay package worth over $1tn if he hits a list of ambitious targets over the next decade.

    To get the package he would need to boost Tesla’s value eightfold, sell a million AI robots, sell another 12 million Tesla cars, and hit several other goals.

    Also last month, Musk announced that he had bought about $1bn worth of Tesla shares in what has been seen by some investors as a vote of confidence in the firm.

    Tesla has faced a number of challenges in recent years, including tough competition from rival electric car makers such as China’s BYD.

    The company is also in the process of transitioning into an AI and robotics business.

    By BBC

  • Safaricom’s Fuliza Service Crippled as Automatic Repayment System Crashes

    Safaricom’s Fuliza Service Crippled as Automatic Repayment System Crashes

    Telecommunication giant scrambles to fix mysterious system failure affecting millions, but tight-lipped response fuels speculation

    Kenya’s telecommunications behemoth Safaricom PLC found itself in damage control mode Tuesday as its flagship Fuliza overdraft service experienced what the company tersely described as a “temporary disruption”—corporate speak that belies the scale of chaos unleashed on millions of customers unable to repay their mobile loans.

    The crisis, which emerged on September 30, 2025, has effectively paralyzed the automatic repayment mechanism that forms the backbone of Fuliza’s operations, leaving users stranded and raising uncomfortable questions about the vulnerability of Kenya’s increasingly digitized financial infrastructure.

    What Safaricom isn’t saying speaks louder than its carefully calibrated public statements, and the silence has tongues wagging across the industry about whether this is merely a technical hiccup or something far more serious.

    “There is an issue with the repayment of Fuliza and resolution is underway. Our team is working in resolving the same. Sorry for the inconvenience caused,” read the company’s boilerplate response to anxious customers flooding social media with complaints—a statement so deliberately vague it could mean anything from a simple software bug to a full-blown security breach.

    The evasiveness is typical of a corporation caught flat-footed by a crisis it doesn’t fully understand or doesn’t want to explain.

    Industry insiders suggest that the specificity of the failure affecting only Fuliza repayments rather than the entire M-Pesa ecosystem points to either a targeted attack on the system or a catastrophic failure in a critical component of the service architecture. Safaricom, predictably, isn’t confirming either scenario.

    What makes this disruption particularly alarming is the central role Fuliza has assumed in Kenya’s financial landscape since its January 2019 launch.

    Born from a partnership between Safaricom, NCBA Bank, and KCB Bank, the overdraft facility has morphed from a convenient add-on into an essential lifeline for millions of Kenyans who routinely rely on it to bridge the gap between paychecks, emergencies, and everyday expenses.

    The service’s genius lies in its simplicity and automation.

    When your M-Pesa wallet runs dry mid-transaction whether you’re sending money to a relative, paying a bill, or buying groceries—Fuliza seamlessly tops up the shortfall, up to your pre-approved limit.

    The borrowed amount, plus fees, is then automatically recovered from your next incoming deposit. It’s financial duct tape for a cash-strapped nation, and on Tuesday, that tape came unstuck.

    The implications ripple far beyond individual inconvenience.

    Businesses using Fuliza ya Biashara, the commercial iteration that extends overdrafts up to Ksh 400,000 to merchant tills, now find themselves in a peculiar bind.

    They can still access credit to complete transactions, but the system that would normally recover those funds has gone dark.

    It’s like writing checks without a clearing house—eventually, someone has to balance the books, but nobody knows when or how.

    Safaricom’s track record on service reliability has generally been solid, though not unblemished.

    The company has weathered scheduled maintenance windows and occasional unplanned outages, but those typically affected the broader M-Pesa platform with clear explanations and timelines for restoration.

    This incident feels different.

    The surgical precision with which it has disabled a specific function suggests either remarkable bad luck or a more calculated intrusion into the system’s inner workings.

    Cybersecurity experts note that mobile money platforms have become increasingly attractive targets for sophisticated threat actors, even as they struggle under the weight of processing millions of transactions daily.

    A successful attack on Fuliza would represent a significant escalation in the threat landscape for Kenya’s fintech sector, potentially exposing vulnerabilities that could be exploited elsewhere.

    Safaricom’s reluctance to discuss technical details could indicate they’re still determining the full scope of what went wrong—or desperately trying to avoid admitting they’ve been compromised.

    The financial stakes are staggering. Fuliza processes transactions worth billions of shillings monthly, touching millions of lives daily. Each hour of downtime translates to lost revenue for Safaricom and its banking partners, who collect a 1% access fee plus daily maintenance charges on outstanding balances. More critically, customers who borrowed expecting automatic repayment may now face accumulating fees, damaged credit scores, and reduced borrowing limits through no fault of their own.

    The disruption also exposes the precarious nature of Kenya’s rush toward financial digitization. As more citizens abandon traditional banking for mobile money, the entire economy becomes hostage to the stability of platforms like M-Pesa and services like Fuliza. Tuesday’s failure serves as an uncomfortable reminder that digital infrastructure, for all its convenience, can fail spectacularly and without warning.

    Safaricom CEO Peter Ndegwa has previously touted Fuliza as evidence of the company’s commitment to financial inclusion, noting during the 2023 launch of Fuliza ya Biashara that more than 538,000 businesses were already using the platform. “Our strategy is to now go beyond collecting payments by providing business owners with tools to manage and grow their businesses,” he declared then, promising instant, affordable credit would empower small enterprises to respond rapidly to business needs.

    Those promises ring hollow today as those same businesses watch their repayment systems malfunction while Safaricom’s communications team offers nothing but platitudes about “working to resolve” the issue. No timeline. No root cause. No transparency.

    As the disruption stretched beyond the initial few hours Tuesday afternoon, frustration mounted among users who depend on Fuliza not as a luxury but as a survival mechanism in an economy where informal work, irregular income, and unexpected expenses are the norm rather than the exception. For them, this isn’t about corporate efficiency or technical glitches—it’s about whether they can trust the systems they’ve been encouraged to adopt as replacements for traditional banking.

    Safaricom’s failure to provide substantive updates or a clear restoration timeline only deepens suspicions that the company either doesn’t fully understand what’s broken or doesn’t want to reveal what it knows. In an era where corporate reputation can evaporate overnight on social media, this approach seems dangerously short-sighted. Kenyans have proven remarkably patient with M-Pesa over the years, but that patience isn’t infinite.

    Whether this proves to be an embarrassing technical failure, evidence of deeper systemic vulnerabilities, or something more sinister that Safaricom would prefer to handle quietly, one thing is certain: millions of Kenyans went to bed Tuesday night unable to settle their debts, not because they lacked the means, but because the system designed to collect those debts had simply stopped working.

    By publication time, Safaricom had not provided any meaningful update beyond its initial acknowledgment of the problem, leaving customers, businesses, and observers to wonder whether Kenya’s mobile money infrastructure is as robust as they’ve been led to believe—or whether Tuesday’s disruption is merely a preview of larger failures to come.

  • Man’s Painful Ordeal Reveals Faulu Bank’s Rough Hands As He Gets Auctioned Over A Friend’s Loan

    Man’s Painful Ordeal Reveals Faulu Bank’s Rough Hands As He Gets Auctioned Over A Friend’s Loan

    Kennedy Kimutai Salat’s act of friendship has cost him everything. In a shocking display of predatory lending practices, Faulu Microfinance Bank has auctioned off his Sh32.5 million property for a pittance, turning a simple guarantee into a financial nightmare that exposes the dark underbelly of Kenya’s microfinance sector.

    When Kennedy Kimutai Salat extended a helping hand to his friend Robert Kanuli in November 2015, he had no idea he was signing away his future.

    What began as a modest guarantee of Sh5.6 million against an Sh11 million loan has morphed into a cautionary tale of institutional greed, legal manipulation, and the ruthless machinery of debt collection that grinds ordinary Kenyans into dust.

    The facts are as damning as they are disturbing. Kimutai, a property owner in Kericho, agreed to guarantee half of the Sh11 million loan that his friend Kanuli, director of Kanuli Information Technology Solutions Limited, sought from Faulu Microfinance Bank to expand his business.

    He offered his prime property title deed as security, confident that his liability was capped at the guaranteed amount.

    Fast forward to July 2024, and Kimutai’s world came crashing down.

    Out of nowhere, he received a redemption notice from Antique Auctioneers informing him that Faulu Bank intended to auction his property to recover a staggering Sh32.9 million that Kanuli had defaulted on.

    The original Sh11 million loan had mysteriously ballooned to triple its size, and somehow, Kimutai’s limited guarantee had been transformed into blanket security for the entire debt.

    But Faulu Bank wasn’t interested in explanations or legal niceties. Before Kimutai could even comprehend what was happening, the bank moved with clinical efficiency.

    By February 2025, his property was sold at public auction to Emmanuel Kibet Kirui for Sh13 million—less than half its actual value of Sh32.5 million.

    When Kimutai rushed to the lands office to conduct a search, the property had already been transferred to the new owner.

    The mathematics of this transaction reveal the true character of Faulu Bank’s operations.

    A property worth Sh32.5 million sold for Sh13 million to recover a debt that Kimutai was never fully liable for in the first place.

    Even if the bank had a legitimate claim to auction the property, the grotesque undervaluation smacks of either criminal negligence or deliberate fraud. Where did the difference go? Who benefits from such a fire sale?

    This is not just about one man’s misfortune.

    This case pulls back the curtain on the predatory practices that have become standard operating procedure for many microfinance institutions masquerading as champions of the common man.

    Faulu Bank, which markets itself as a financial partner for ordinary Kenyans, has shown its true face—that of an institution willing to destroy lives and livelihoods to recover debts by any means necessary.

    The legal questions are glaring.

    How does a limited guarantee of Sh5.6 million suddenly become security for Sh32.9 million? How does an Sh11 million loan explode to nearly three times its original size in less than a decade? What kind of interest rates and penalty charges did Faulu Bank apply to achieve such exponential growth? And most damningly, what justification exists for selling a Sh32.5 million property for Sh13 million?

    Through GKL Advocates, Kimutai has now moved to the Milimani Law Courts, filing a case on September 20 that seeks to expose these illegal actions and reclaim his property.

    He argues that Faulu Bank breached the charge agreement by demanding repayment of the entire debt despite his liability being limited to Sh5.6 million.

    He wants the sale declared illegal, null and void, and seeks to be discharged from any liability beyond the guaranteed amount.

    Justice Linet Omollo has ordered the parties served and given them 14 days to file responses, with the matter set for hearing on November 11. But the damage has already been done.

    Kimutai has lost property worth Sh32.5 million while his actual liability was Sh5.6 million—a loss of Sh26.9 million that can only be described as institutional theft dressed in legal paperwork.

    This case raises uncomfortable questions about the regulatory oversight of microfinance institutions in Kenya.

    Where was the Central Bank of Kenya when Faulu Bank was transforming limited guarantees into unlimited liability? Where were the auctioneers’ ethical obligations when they sold a property for 40 percent of its value? Where were the safeguards meant to protect Kenyans from exactly this kind of financial predation?

    The collaboration between Faulu Bank and Kimutai’s former friend Kanuli also deserves scrutiny.

    How did Kanuli’s business fail so spectacularly that an Sh11 million loan became Sh32.9 million in debt? Was there any effort to restructure the loan, to negotiate payment terms, or to explore alternatives before destroying a guarantor’s life? Or was the property always the target, with Kimutai’s friendship merely the vehicle to access it?

    What makes this case particularly egregious is the speed and efficiency with which the bank operated once it decided to auction the property.

    From notice to sale to transfer took mere months—a stark contrast to the years it typically takes ordinary citizens to get justice in Kenyan courts.

    When banks want their money, the machinery of state moves with remarkable alacrity.

    When citizens seek protection from institutional overreach, they are told to wait.

    Kimutai’s ordeal is a mirror held up to Kenya’s financial sector, and the reflection is ugly.

    Behind the glossy advertisements and promises of financial inclusion lies a brutal reality: microfinance institutions that trap borrowers and guarantors in debt cycles, charge usurious interest rates, and deploy auction houses as weapons of mass financial destruction.

    The message from Faulu Bank is clear and chilling: friendship has a price, and that price is everything you own.

    Think twice before you guarantee anyone’s loan, because the fine print that limits your liability is worth less than the paper it’s written on when the bank decides it wants your property.

    As Kimutai awaits his day in court, his case stands as a warning to every Kenyan who has ever considered helping a friend in need.

    In a country where banks operate with impunity and the law is weaponized against the vulnerable, acts of kindness can cost you everything you’ve worked for.

    Faulu Bank has shown us who they really are. The question now is whether our courts and regulators have the courage to hold them accountable.

  • Over 65,000 Kenyans Face Job Losses as Critical US Trade Deal Expires

    Over 65,000 Kenyans Face Job Losses as Critical US Trade Deal Expires

    NAIROBI — More than 65,000 Kenyan workers are on the brink of unemployment as the African Growth and Opportunity Act expires at midnight Tuesday, threatening to dismantle two decades of trade relations that have sustained Kenya’s garment manufacturing sector.

    The expiring trade pact, which has allowed duty-free access to American markets since 2000, is set to trigger immediate tariff increases that industry leaders say will devastate Kenya’s export processing zones.

    Without congressional action, tariffs on Kenyan exports like apparel, textiles, and nuts will surge from zero to over 30% starting October 1.

    The crisis has already begun. United Aryan, a Kenyan factory that produces Wrangler and Levi’s jeans for US retailers, laid off 1,000 workers this week — 10% of its workforce — as the deadline approached with no resolution in sight.

    “The uncertainty is not only with buyers, but with lenders, the banks, and all that. Everybody’s very nervous,” said Pankaj Bedi, who chairs the apparel manufacturers and exporters sector at the Kenya Association of Manufacturers, speaking at meetings in New York last week between business representatives and US officials.

    The stakes extend far beyond individual factories. Kenya’s Agoa exports jumped 41.9% to 60.5 billion shillings since 2020, with employment in the sector increasing by more than 21,000 jobs over the same period.

    Last year alone, 40 companies operating under Agoa employed 66,804 people and injected 38.27 billion shillings in capital investments.

    Kenya’s trade-weighted average US tariff would nearly triple if Agoa expires, jumping from 10% to 28%, according to the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development.

    The organization warned Monday that “this sudden jump in tariffs could disrupt long-standing trade relations and severely disadvantage African exporters, particularly in highly protected sectors like textiles and apparel.”

    Despite the looming deadline, Kenya’s government struck an optimistic tone Monday.

    Cabinet Secretary Lee Kinyanjui dismissed fears over job losses as “unwarranted,” citing President William Ruto’s lobbying efforts in Washington.

    “Keep cool, professional driver is in control,” Kinyanjui told reporters, adding that the response from Washington has been “reassuring.”

    A White House official told the Financial Times on Friday that the administration supports a one-year extension of the program.

    But any extension requires congressional approval, and the Republican-controlled Congress has shown little urgency to act.

    The delay represents a stark contrast to 2015, when President Barack Obama signed an Agoa extension three months before the deadline, granting another decade of duty-free access.

    This time, a bipartisan effort to extend Agoa by 16 years to 2041 failed to advance through Congress.

    The Trump administration’s protectionist stance has complicated matters.

    President Trump has repeatedly criticized free trade deals as lacking “reciprocal terms” and pushed for bilateral arrangements instead.

    Kenyan exporters have already been hit with a baseline 10% US tariff as a result of this policy shift.

    Industry representatives who met with American retailers in New York last week say US stakeholders support Agoa’s continuation but are waiting for White House leadership.

    “Everybody we met from the US side is in agreement that, yes, Agoa should continue. But still there’s no champion,” Bedi said. “They’re all waiting for a sign from the White House, basically.”

    The Kenya Private Sector Alliance has called for a one-to-two-year transition period to avoid supply chain disruptions that would affect not just Kenyan workers but also US logistics, retail, and distribution sectors.

    The group estimates that Agoa delivers $200 million to $250 million in annual consumer savings for Americans by lowering the cost of everyday goods like jeans and uniforms.

    For Kenya’s manufacturing hubs in Athi River, Thika, and other export processing zones, the expiry threatens to erase competitive advantages built over 25 years.

    Manufacturers say tariffs above 30% would eliminate their ability to compete with countries like Bangladesh and Vietnam.

    “We are asking the US to seriously consider renewing and extending Agoa for at least five years because it is a platform that connects Africa and the US in a very fundamental way,” President Ruto said in New York last week. “It can go a long way in addressing trade deficits and challenges that exist at the moment.”

    Congress has previously extended expired trade legislation retroactively and refunded importers, offering a glimmer of hope that a last-minute deal could still materialize.

    But with hours remaining before the deadline, 65,000 Kenyan workers are left waiting to learn whether their livelihoods will survive the night.

  • NCBA Bank Loses Over Half a Billion in Insider Fraud

    NCBA Bank Loses Over Half a Billion in Insider Fraud

    NCBA Bank is reeling from a massive fraud scandal that has exposed gaping holes in its internal controls, with losses mounting past Sh517 million in separate incidents involving rogue employees and compromised IT systems.

    The banking giant now faces uncomfortable questions about how senior staff managed to siphon millions of shillings under the noses of management, while third-party contractors walked away with hundreds of millions more by tampering with critical security systems.

    At the heart of the scandal is Philip Rotich Kiprono, an operations manager at NCBA’s Kisii branch, who allegedly orchestrated a sophisticated fraud scheme that robbed customers of at least Sh52 million between December 2022 and October 2024.

    Court documents reveal Kiprono faces a staggering 134 criminal charges including theft by servant, forgery, and money laundering.

    Philip Rotich Kiprono
    Philip Rotich Kiprono

    The modus operandi was brutally simple yet devastatingly effective.

    Kiprono would receive instructions from wealthy clients to transfer funds internally, but instead diverted the money into bank accounts belonging to his associates.

    Among the victims were a Catholic diocese that lost Sh9 million, a bishop who was fleeced of another Sh9 million, and businessman Neel Gudkas who saw Sh14.7 million vanish from his account.

    What makes this scandal particularly damning is that Kiprono allegedly continued defrauding customers even after being suspended, exploiting the fact that clients still believed he was on duty.

    The bank’s head of security, Noah Cheptumo, told investigators that Kiprono had taken advantage of the trust bestowed on him by big clients and colleagues to pull off the heist.

    But the Kisii fraud is just one piece of a larger crisis engulfing NCBA.

    The bank also lost a separate Sh57.5 million to a software developer contracted to maintain systems at its Rwandan subsidiary.

    The consultant allegedly tampered with the mobile and retail banking platform, clearing cash withdrawals even from non-existent accounts or those with insufficient funds.

    In just eight days in June 2025, 70 customers initiated 260 fraudulent transactions.

    These incidents come against the backdrop of a wider banking sector crisis highlighted by the Financial Reporting Centre, which documented how another Kenyan bank lost Sh517 million after contractors downgraded card security systems.

    The criminals altered authentication protocols, created unauthorized customer wallets, and laundered the stolen funds through cryptocurrency exchanges.

    The pattern is clear and troubling.

    Third-party service providers and trusted employees are exploiting weak oversight to commit massive fraud.

    For NCBA, the damage goes beyond financial losses. The bank’s reputation has taken a severe beating, with customers openly questioning whether their deposits are safe or just one dishonest employee away from vanishing.

    Senior Principal Magistrate Benard Obae Omwansa has ordered Kiprono to appear in court to answer to the charges.

    If convicted, he faces severe penalties including lengthy jail terms.

    But prosecution of individual criminals does little to address the systemic failures that enabled these frauds in the first place.

    The Central Bank of Kenya has been urging banks to enhance audits of staff and third-party contractors, particularly those with access to critical IT systems and customer data.

    But the NCBA cases suggest these warnings have gone unheeded.

    How does a financial institution of NCBA’s size fail to detect suspicious fund movements until losses hit Sh52 million? Why weren’t there adequate controls to prevent contractors from downgrading security systems?

    For ordinary Kenyans who entrust their life savings to banks, the NCBA scandal is a sharp reminder that even institutions meant to safeguard wealth can become vehicles for its theft.

    The Kisii case is more than just one man on trial.

    It is an indictment of negligent supervision that opens the door to massive fraud, and a warning that without strict accountability, no customer’s money is truly safe.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

  • ‪How KRA Plans To Collect Sh300 Billion From 11 Million PIN Holders in Informal Sector

    ‪How KRA Plans To Collect Sh300 Billion From 11 Million PIN Holders in Informal Sector

    The Kenya Revenue Authority has set its sights on one of the country’s most elusive revenue streams: the sprawling informal sector, where millions of small traders have long operated beyond the tax net’s reach.

    With a target of collecting more than Sh300 billion from approximately 11 million personal identification number holders in the informal sector this financial year, KRA is embarking on what amounts to a fundamental reimagining of how it engages with the country’s economic backbone.

    The numbers reveal the scale of the challenge. Kenya has more than 21 million PIN holders, yet fewer than nine million currently file returns or pay taxes. That gap represents not just lost revenue, but millions of micro, small, and medium enterprises operating in a grey zone between full formality and complete informality.

    George Obell, who heads KRA’s Micro & Small Taxpayers Department, frames the initiative as both a revenue imperative and an economic development opportunity. MSMEs contribute between 40 and 50 percent to Kenya’s GDP and employ the majority of the workforce, yet their tax contribution has never matched their economic footprint.

    The authority’s strategy marks a departure from traditional enforcement approaches. Rather than wielding the stick of audits and penalties, KRA is rolling out what Obell describes as a comprehensive support ecosystem designed to make compliance accessible rather than intimidating.

    Central to this transformation is an aggressive expansion of physical touchpoints. KRA plans to establish more than 10,000 agent centers across the country, complementing its existing 136 offices. The model borrows directly from the banking sector’s playbook, where agency banking transformed financial inclusion by bringing services to where people actually conduct business.

    These agents won’t just process transactions. They’re envisioned as front-line advisors who can guide small traders through tax obligations that have historically seemed opaque and overwhelming. For a mama mboga selling vegetables at a market stall or a jua kali artisan working from a roadside workshop, the distance to the nearest KRA office has often been measured not just in kilometers but in intimidation and complexity.

    Technology forms another pillar of the strategy. KRA is developing digital solutions tailored specifically to the realities of small business operations. The goal is seamless integration into existing workflows rather than additional administrative burdens that many MSMEs lack the capacity to handle.

    But perhaps most significantly, KRA is acknowledging that voluntary compliance requires more than just infrastructure. The authority plans to launch comprehensive tax education campaigns, offer incentives for compliant businesses, and collaborate with industry leaders to develop sector-specific solutions. There’s even talk of publicly recognizing compliant MSMEs, turning tax payment from a grudging obligation into a badge of legitimacy.

    The approach reflects a belated recognition that the informal sector’s tax resistance isn’t simply about evasion. Many small operators have struggled with genuinely complex processes, limited access to advice, and uncertainty about what compliance actually requires. When the rules seem designed for corporations with accounting departments, street vendors and small shop owners rationally opt out.

    Whether KRA can actually collect Sh300 billion from this segment remains an open question. The informal sector has proven remarkably resilient to formalization efforts over decades. Trust between tax authorities and small traders is thin, built on years of experiences where engagement with officialdom often meant harassment rather than support.

    Success will likely depend on whether KRA can demonstrate that this time is different, that the agent centers actually provide value rather than just additional collection points, and that the promised simplification is real rather than rhetorical. The informal sector will be watching, and they’ll vote with their compliance or continued evasion.

    For Kenya’s fiscal health, the stakes couldn’t be higher. With government revenue needs pressing and traditional tax bases already squeezed, unlocking the informal sector’s contribution isn’t optional. The question is whether KRA’s new approach can finally bridge the gap between 21 million PIN holders and nine million taxpayers.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

  • Bloody Past Revisited: Browns’ Mass Retrenchment Sparks Fears of Fresh Clashes in Kericho

    Bloody Past Revisited: Browns’ Mass Retrenchment Sparks Fears of Fresh Clashes in Kericho

    KERICHO— The ghosts of 2023 are stirring once again across the sprawling tea estates of Kericho County, where the blood of five workers still stains the collective memory of a community that rose in violent defiance against the cold march of mechanisation.

    Now, barely two years after that brutal confrontation, Sri Lankan tea giant Browns East Africa Plantations PLC has ignited a fresh powder keg with its announcement to axe over 2,000 workers—a move that union leaders and local politicians warn could plunge the region back into the chaos that once saw machines destroyed, estates invaded, and police bullets flying.

    The timing could not be more cynical. Browns swept into Kenya in 2023 with grand promises, acquiring eleven plantations and eight factories from Lipton Teas and Infusions and James Finlay Kenya.

    The company’s assurances were clear: jobs would be protected, and any workforce reductions would happen gradually through natural attrition.

    Those promises now lie shattered, exposed as little more than corporate theatre designed to smooth a controversial takeover.

    In a notice dated September 19, Browns East Africa CEO Rajiv Bandaranayake delivered the guillotine blow, wrapping mass redundancy in the sanitised language of corporate human resources.

    The affected workers would receive gratuity, severance pay calculated at 23 days’ salary per year of service, prorated leave, and one-way transport home—as if a bus ticket and a few thousand shillings could compensate for livelihoods destroyed and families thrown into uncertainty.

    The company even promised “psychosocial support” and financial management training, a patronising gesture that assumes the workers’ distress can be managed with counselling sessions and entrepreneurship seminars.

    What Browns fails to graspor more likely, chooses to ignore is that these are not abstract employment statistics.

    These are families whose children attend local schools, whose elderly parents depend on medical cover, whose entire existence is woven into the fabric of these estates.

    The Kenya Plantation and Agricultural Workers Union has seen through the charade.

    Assistant Secretary-General Thomas Kipkemboi, writing on behalf of COTU Secretary-General Francis Atwoli, flatly rejected the scheme, accusing Browns of railroading the retrenchments without proper consultation.

    “The CBA is very clear on retirement age. There has never been any agreement on voluntary early retirement at Browns East Africa,” Kipkemboi stated, his words carrying the weight of a union preparing for battle.

    The accusations are damning.

    KPAWU claims Browns is deliberately targeting unionised workers to eviscerate collective bargaining power, paving the way for outsourced labour that will work for lower wages, fewer benefits, and zero job security.

    This is not restructuring—it is union-busting dressed up in the language of efficiency and modernisation.

    Kericho Governor Erick Mutai has joined the chorus of condemnation, demanding that Browns halt the scheme and instead employ more locals to operate the very machines that are now being used as justification for mass layoffs.

    The logic is inescapable: if mechanisation requires skilled operators, why not train and employ the local workforce rather than import foreign expertise or rely on contract labour?

    The bitter irony is impossible to miss.

    Browns entered Kenya riding a wave of post-pandemic optimism in the tea sector, positioning itself as a modernising force that would revitalise estates and secure jobs.

    Instead, less than two years later, it is replicating the same playbook that triggered violence in 2023—pushing mechanisation at breakneck speed while treating workers as disposable overhead.

    That earlier eruption of violence was no ordinary labour dispute.

    Equipment worth millions was destroyed in coordinated attacks. Workers stormed estates to harvest tea illegally, a desperate act of economic sabotage.

    Police responded with force. Five people died. The scars run deep in Kericho, and the wounds have barely healed.

    Now Browns is pouring salt into those wounds. Union threats of legal action, pickets, and strikes are not idle posturing—they are the opening salvos in what could escalate into another round of violent confrontation.

    When desperate people face the destruction of their livelihoods with no legal recourse, history shows us what happens next.

    Browns East Africa’s management appears to be gambling that it can weather the storm, that its financial cushion and political connections will insulate it from meaningful consequences.

    But this is Kenya, where labour disputes on tea estates carry explosive political and social dimensions.

    This is Kericho, where the memory of 2023’s bloodshed remains fresh, where every worker knows someone who was injured, arrested, or killed.

    The company’s promises of gradual attrition through natural retirement have been exposed as lies. Its pledge to safeguard jobs has crumbled within months. What credibility does Browns East Africa now possess when it speaks of supporting affected workers or acting in accordance with collective agreements?

    The cold calculation is transparent: Browns believes it can mechanise faster, reduce its permanent workforce, and boost profit margins by replacing unionised labour with cheaper, more compliant alternatives. The human cost is irrelevant. The potential for renewed violence is apparently an acceptable risk.

    Governor Mutai, MCA Wesley Kiprotich, and union leaders are right to sound the alarm. The question now is whether Browns will pull back from the brink or whether Kericho is destined to relive its bloodiest chapter.

    The company has a choice: honour its commitments, engage meaningfully with workers and their representatives, and accept that corporate profit cannot be built on broken promises and destroyed livelihoods.

    Or it can proceed down its current path and discover that the people of Kericho have long memories, short patience, and a proven willingness to fight when pushed too far.

    The machinery may be new, but the resistance will be familiar. And this time, everyone knows how it ends.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

  • Trump Signs Order Declaring TikTok Sale Ready and Values It At $14 Billion

    Trump Signs Order Declaring TikTok Sale Ready and Values It At $14 Billion

    WASHINGTON, Sept 25 – President Donald Trump signed an executive order on Thursday declaring that his plan to sell Chinese-owned TikTok’s U.S. operations to U.S. and global investors will address the national security requirements in a 2024 law.

    The new U.S. company will be valued at around $14 billion, Vice President JD Vance said, putting a price tag on the popular short video app far below some analyst estimates.

    Trump on Thursday delayed until January 20 enforcement of the law that bans the app unless its Chinese owners sell it amid efforts to extract TikTok’s U.S. assets from the global platform, line up American and other investors, and win approval from the Chinese government.
    The publication of the executive order shows Trump is making progress on the sale of TikTok’s U.S. assets, but numerous details need to be fleshed out, including how the U.S. entity would use TikTok’s most important asset, its recommendation algorithm.

    “There was some resistance on the Chinese side, but the fundamental thing that we wanted to accomplish is that we wanted to keep TikTok operating, but we also wanted to make sure that we protected Americans’ data privacy as required by law,” Vance told reporters at an Oval Office briefing.

    Trump’s order says the algorithm will be retrained and monitored by the U.S. company’s security partners, and operation of the algorithm will be under the control of the new joint venture.

    Trump said Chinese President Xi Jinping had indicated approval of the plans. “I spoke with President Xi,” Trump said. “We had a good talk, I told him what we were doing and he said go ahead with it.”

    China’s foreign ministry on Friday reiterated that the government “respects the will of enterprises and welcomes them to conduct business negotiations on the basis of market rules to reach solutions that comply with Chinese laws and regulations and achieve a balance of interests.”

    “We hope the U.S. will provide an open, fair and non-discriminatory business environment for Chinese companies investing in the United States,” ministry spokesperson Guo Jiakun told a press conference, without giving further details of the deal.

    TikTok did not immediately comment on Trump’s action.

    Trump has credited TikTok, which has 170 million U.S. users, with helping him win reelection last year. Trump has 15 million followers on his personal TikTok account. The White House also launched an official TikTok account last month.

    “This is going to be American-operated all the way,” Trump said.

    He said that Michael Dell, the founder, chairman and CEO of Dell Technologies; Rupert Murdoch, the chairman emeritus of Fox News owner Fox Corp and newspaper publisher News Corp, and “probably four or five absolutely world-class investors” would be part of the deal.

    The White House did not discuss how it came up with the $14 billion valuation.

    TikTok’s Chinese parent, ByteDance, currently values itself at more than $330 billion, according to its new employee share buyback plan. TikTok contributes a small percentage of the company’s total revenue.

    According to Wedbush Securities analyst Dan Ives, TikTok was estimated to be worth $30 billion to $40 billion without the algorithm as of April 2025.

    Alan Rozenshtein, a professor at the University of Minnesota Law School, said the executive order left unanswered questions, including whether ByteDance would still control the algorithm.

    “The problem is that the president has certified the deal, but he has not provided a lot of information on the algorithm,” he said.

    Chinese media on Friday also painted a different picture of the TikTok agreement, suggesting ByteDance would continue to play a major or operational role.

    President Trump signed an executive order approving the sale of TikTok's US operations to American and global investors, citing compliance with 2024 national security law requirements
    President Trump signed an executive order approving the sale of TikTok’s US operations to American and global investors, citing compliance with 2024 national security law requirements

    ByteDance will set up a new U.S. company as part of the restructuring of TikTok’s U.S. operations, Chinese media outlet LatePost reported, citing sources.

    The new company to be set up by ByteDance will be responsible for e-commerce, branding operations and interconnection with international operations, the report said.

    The report also said the joint venture, as described by the White House and valued at $14 billion, would be responsible for U.S. digital security, safeguarding content and software as well as related local businesses.

    Another Chinese financial magazine, Caixin, also reported, citing people close to the deal, that ByteDance planned to set up a TikTok U.S. entity that will receive some revenue from the new TikTok joint venture.

    Both reports were taken down from their respective websites later on Friday.

    The White House and ByteDance did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

    ORACLE AND OTHERS TO OWN TIKTOK IN THE U.S.

    A group of three investors, including Oracle (ORCL.N) and private-equity firm Silver Lake, will take a roughly 50% stake in TikTok U.S., two sources familiar with the deal said on Thursday.

    A group of existing shareholders in ByteDance will hold a roughly 30% stake, one of the sources said. Among ByteDance’s current investors are Susquehanna International Group, General Atlantic and KKR.

    Given intense investor interest in TikTok, the 50% stake may still shift, the source noted.

    Oracle and Silver Lake did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

    CNBC reported earlier, citing sources, that Abu Dhabi-based MGX, Oracle and Silver Lake are poised to be the main investors in TikTok U.S. with a combined 45% ownership.

    MGX did not immediately respond to a Reuters request for comment on the CNBC report.

    Republican House of Representatives lawmakers said they wanted to see more details of the deal to ensure it represented a clean break with China. “As the details are finalized, we must ensure this deal protects American users from the influence and surveillance of CCP-aligned groups,” said U.S. Representatives Brett Guthrie, Gus Bilirakis and Richard Hudson.

    The agreement on TikTok’s U.S. operations includes the appointment by ByteDance of one of seven board members for the new entity, with Americans holding the other six seats, a senior White House official said on Saturday.

    ByteDance would hold less than 20% in TikTok U.S. to comply with requirements set out in the 2024 law that ordered it shut down by January 2025 if ByteDance did not sell its U.S. assets.

    (Reuters)