By Billy Mijungu

Boda Boda riders have laid down their own law. In their unwritten code, “We have a right to ride as we please. In case of an accident, whether caused by us or not, the driver will be assumed guilty and vehicles burnt.” That chilling reality is no longer an exaggeration but a fact of daily life on Kenyan roads.

For years, the boda boda sector has been celebrated as one of the most innovative and accessible means of transport, creating employment for millions of young people. In rural and urban settings alike, boda bodas have become the lifeline of the economy, moving goods, people, and even emergencies at lightning speed. Yet, beneath this convenience lies a lawless underbelly that threatens to overturn our social order.

Day after day, we witness chaos. Riders weaving through traffic with reckless abandon, ignoring traffic lights, overlapping at will, carrying excess passengers, and violating every known safety rule. When accidents occur, the response is not a calm appeal to law enforcement but mob justice. Vehicles are surrounded, drivers dragged out, cars stoned or burnt. The assumption is always that the boda boda rider is innocent, and the motorist guilty. Facts, evidence, and justice are cast aside.

What is even more disturbing is the state’s apparent helplessness. Our internal security apparatus looks defeated, powerless, and even tamed. Police officers who should enforce traffic discipline are often outnumbered or intimidated. At times, they are complicit, collecting daily bribes from riders instead of enforcing the law. This has created a culture where boda boda groups feel untouchable.

The comparative numbers paint the full picture. Kenya has well over one point five million registered boda bodas on the road, with thousands more unregistered. They form a voting bloc larger than most political parties can boast. With such raw numbers, they hold sway, and politicians know it. Every election cycle, we see leaders troop to boda boda stages to curry favor, promising heaven and earth, but never accountability. It is this appeasement politics that has emboldened the sector into a monster we now struggle to contain.

As we inch closer to another election year, this trend is bound to worsen. Leaders, desperate for votes, will bend backwards to please riders instead of confronting the menace. The result will be even more impunity, more road chaos, more accidents, and more innocent Kenyans forced to bear the brunt of unchecked lawlessness. One day, this raw power will consume us all.

It is time for honesty. The government must tell Kenyans how it intends to address this growing threat. Regulation cannot remain on paper. Riders must be registered, trained, licensed, and insured. Traffic rules must apply to everyone equally, and enforcement must be firm. The narrative that boda bodas are untouchable must end.

Kenyans deserve safe roads. Roads must serve everyone equally, not become battlefields where might makes right. We cannot continue to allow mob justice to replace the rule of law. If the state cannot tame the boda boda menace now, the cost in lives, property, and national stability will be far higher in the future.

The roads are not theirs. The roads are ours, all of us.

By Billy Mijungu

The introduction of Electronic Government Procurement, popularly known as eGP, is one of the most significant reforms in the management of public resources. For years, the tendering process has been clouded by unscrupulous practices that drained public finances, discouraged genuine suppliers, and entrenched corruption. The arrival of eGP is set to change that reality.

Just as the Integrated Financial Management Information System once faced resistance, eGP is already encountering opposition. But this is expected. Every major reform that threatens entrenched interests is bound to face rejection. The truth, however, is that eGP is inevitable. If Kenya is serious about austerity measures and the prudent use of scarce resources, then there is no better time than now to fully implement the system.

The greatest advantage of eGP is transparency. It automates processes that were once shrouded in secrecy, making it easier to track procurement activities across ministries, departments, and agencies. No longer will tenders be issued in dark corners or awards made based on favoritism. Instead, every stage of procurement can be monitored and verified.

Still, as we implement eGP, we must also look ahead to the next frontier in public finance reform. That frontier is the cost of procurement and the cost of settlement. Procurement is not just about eliminating corruption; it is also about efficiency and value for money. The system must be designed to categorize what can be procured directly without exhaustive processes. Some items, like basic office supplies that can be purchased even at a kiosk, should not consume the same bureaucratic effort as major infrastructure contracts.

Equally important, there must be clarity on what should be procured at government to government level and on the thresholds that justify such arrangements. This will ensure that economies of scale are harnessed where possible and that strategic national interests are safeguarded.

Settlement of payments is another critical issue. Many suppliers have been driven to bankruptcy because of delayed payments for goods and services already delivered. This not only discourages investment but also inflates costs since suppliers build in risks and delays when quoting for tenders. By linking procurement directly with timely settlement mechanisms, eGP can help government reduce unnecessary costs, build trust with suppliers, and encourage competitive pricing.

Examples from other countries show what is possible. South Korea, which is often cited as a pioneer of electronic procurement, launched its KONEPS system two decades ago. Today it handles millions of transactions annually and has cut administrative costs significantly. Suppliers no longer wait endlessly for payments, and government enjoys real time tracking of every tender. Rwanda has also embraced an e procurement platform that is widely recognized for its openness. By placing all government tenders online, the country has improved participation by small and medium sized enterprises and strengthened its reputation for accountability. Kenya can borrow lessons from these experiences by ensuring eGP is not just a tool for digitization but a driver of cost reduction and fairness.

Transparency must not stop at internal processes. The system should provide a public interface, a website where citizens can track procurement activities. This should include graphical displays that make it easy to see what is being purchased, at what cost, and by which government unit. Such openness will foster accountability, discourage misuse of funds, and strengthen public confidence. When the public can see clearly how resources are being used, the pressure for accountability grows naturally.

The journey will not be easy. Resistance from within government institutions is real because many stand to lose from the new order. But just as IFMIS eventually became part of the financial system despite its early opposition, eGP too will prevail. Government must soldier on with determination and ensure that every unit is fully on boarded. Half measures will only perpetuate loopholes.

In the end, eGP is not just a technological shift; it is a cultural change. It is about creating a government that is efficient, open, and fair. Once corruption in procurement is curtailed, attention must move to reducing the actual costs of procurement and ensuring timely settlement. That is how the government will save money, encourage genuine suppliers, and strengthen public trust in how resources are managed.

The true test of eGP will not be in its adoption alone but in how it reshapes the culture of procurement and settlement. If fully embraced, it will stand as one of the strongest pillars in building a transparent and accountable government for the future.

By Billy Mijungu

When the smoke cleared after the elections of 2017, many Kenyans were left with scars that will never fade. Families buried their children, widows stared into an uncertain future, and young men carried wounds that would never heal. Yet, as political leaders shook hands, traded insults, or embraced in new alliances, the victims of violence were forgotten.

It is against this backdrop that Faith Mony Odhiambo, the President of the Law Society of Kenya, now stands. She carries with her not just the title of the second woman to ever lead the society, but also the heavy burden of being a custodian of justice in a nation where the State has too often turned its weapons against its own people.

Faith’s decision to sit on the compensation panel for victims of police, government, and political violence has stirred mixed emotions. Critics shout betrayal. They say she is walking too close to power. On social media, hashtags question her loyalty. But beyond the noise, a deeper truth emerges: Faith is serving Kenyans, not William Ruto and not Raila Odinga. She is choosing the path of uncomfortable service because justice, when delayed or denied, is never neutral, it is an open wound.

Her story is one of constant vigilance. At odd hours of the night, her phone buzzes with calls from desperate families reporting abductions and harassment. At dawn, she is mobilizing advocates to document abuses. When word spread that youths in Isiolo were being picked up after heckling the President, it was Faith who urged Kenyans to record, share, and demand accountability. In the eyes of ordinary people, she is not a distant leader but a sister, a colleague, a guardian.

And yet, the backlash is real. Some insist that by working with government structures, she has surrendered independence. But her response has been firm: “My loyalty is to the people of Kenya.” She has promised to resign if the process is frustrated or turned into a political spectacle. That promise, repeated in her own words, has kept faith alive in the hearts of many who still wait for justice.

On Twitter, young Kenyans praise her for standing tall when others bend. On Facebook, victims’ families share stories of hope that maybe, this time, someone in power is listening. On Socials, Kenyans remark that her decision to remain firm reflects an integrity rarely seen in leadership. These digital echoes are not mere chatter, they are testimonies of a society hungry for justice.

The task ahead is enormous. The panel she helps to lead has only 120 days to listen to countless stories, to verify losses, to measure pain in numbers that can never truly capture it. But the presence of Faith Odhiambo offers assurance that the exercise will not be another government ritual. She is a lawyer, an advocate, and above all, a Kenyan mother and sister who knows that behind every case file is a human life.

This is why she must stay. For the child whose father never came home. For the widow who still waits for recognition. For the young man whose limp tells the story of a protest gone wrong. Faith Odhiambo must keep a watchful eye, not for the government, not for the opposition, but for the ordinary Kenyan who has no other defender.

In a country where politics shifts like sand, she reminds us that justice must remain firm, impartial, and human. And that is the Kenya we all deserve.

By Billy Mijungu

Have you ever heard of an accountant who works in a government ministry for decades without ever being transferred? This is not an accident. It is the outcome of a system that has long been manipulated through bribery, canvassing, and influence. Some officers remain in one position for an entire career while others are constantly shuffled and inconvenienced. The lack of fairness in postings and transfers has eroded trust in the public service and created an environment where corruption thrives.

This problem runs deeper than one profession. It cuts across the entire spectrum of government human resource management. The way postings and transfers are handled has created pockets of privilege where those with connections or money enjoy stability, while others are at the mercy of arbitrary reshuffles. Officers who are willing to bribe are assured of comfort, while those who refuse suffer endless uncertainty. The net effect is a system that undermines efficiency and breeds resentment among public servants.

The time has come to address this challenge with a bold solution. That solution is the creation of a Random Digital Support Units Posting System. The idea is simple but powerful. Instead of leaving transfers and postings in the hands of individuals who can be influenced, the process would be automated and digitized. Officers would be posted through a random system that follows preset criteria. These criteria would include qualifications, years of service, regional balance, and institutional needs. Once these factors are entered into the system, the allocation of officers would be done automatically.

This approach has clear advantages. First, it removes predictability. When no one can anticipate how and where postings will be done, the opportunities for manipulation disappear. Second, it restores fairness. Every officer, whether junior or senior, connected or unconnected, would be subject to the same transparent framework. Third, it boosts morale. Officers would know that their transfers or retentions are not based on favoritism but on a neutral and credible system.

There are many lessons to be borrowed from other institutions. In the military, for instance, postings are guided by structured systems that rotate officers regularly to prevent entrenchment and to maintain discipline. The judiciary has also embraced structured transfers to ensure fairness and reduce the likelihood of corruption in courts. If such critical institutions can thrive on clear transfer policies, then the public service at large can adopt a digital system that applies the same principles at scale.

Randomness might sound chaotic, but in reality it brings clarity. When the rules are known and the system is automated, there is no room for second guessing or backdoor deals. Officers cannot bribe a computer, nor can they lobby an algorithm. Instead they focus on their work, knowing that their career path is managed in an impartial manner. Over time this strengthens the culture of accountability and professionalism within government institutions.

The need for this reform grows even more urgent as the public service expands. With an ever growing workforce, the current manual system of handling postings is unsustainable. It is vulnerable to corruption, it wastes time, and it undermines efficiency. A digitized and randomized system would save money, reduce human interference, and most importantly, rebuild public trust in government.

We are in an era where the strength of a nation is measured by the strength of its systems. Kenya must move away from personalized decision making that is prone to abuse. We cannot continue to rely on patronage and favoritism if we want a productive public service. What we need are strong institutions that are respected because they are transparent and incorruptible.

A Random Digital Posting System is more than a technical reform. It is a signal of intent, a commitment to fairness, and a demonstration that the government is willing to embrace change. By removing the human hand from the transfer process, we remove the temptation of corruption. By creating equal chances for all officers, we encourage merit and discourage manipulation.

If we are serious about reform, then this is the moment to act. Randomness guided by clear criteria will deliver clarity, credibility, and fairness. Patronage has already failed us. It is time for systems to lead the way.