By Billy Mijungu

As Kenya continues to navigate an era of heightened civic activism, the debate around safety, public order, and the right to protest has never been more urgent. The need to criminalise the public carrying and display of crude weapons, including stones, machetes, clubs, and other improvised tools of violence, is no longer just a policing concern. It is a national necessity.

Article 37 of the Constitution of Kenya guarantees every person the right to assemble, demonstrate, picket, and petition public authorities peacefully and unarmed. It is within this constitutional right that thousands of Kenyans have taken to the streets over the years, voicing economic, social, and political frustrations. However, the spirit of this provision is often undermined when assemblies are infiltrated by individuals armed with stones and crude weapons, turning peaceful gatherings into volatile confrontations.

There is no ambiguity in the Constitution. The right to protest is pegged on being peaceful and unarmed. Stones, crude machetes, sharpened metal rods, and other rudimentary weapons are not only a threat to public safety but an outright violation of the constitutionally set limits of civil action.

This calls for a law that equates the public display and carriage of such weapons during protests or public assemblies to the same degree of seriousness as carrying a firearm in similar circumstances. Under the Penal Code and Firearms Act, unauthorised possession or brandishing of guns is punishable by heavy sentences including imprisonment. Yet today, individuals wielding clubs and throwing stones at security officers or fellow civilians during demonstrations often go unchecked or face minor charges.

The call is not to suppress the right to protest but to protect it. By drawing a firm legal boundary around the carriage of crude weapons, we can preserve the sanctity of public assemblies, distinguish peaceful protesters from violent infiltrators, and uphold national security.
Moreover, the law should extend to regulate the manufacture and commercial distribution of such crude weapons.

It must be specific that outside private household self-defense or justified night mobility, possession of such tools in public, particularly near mass gatherings, should warrant arrest and prosecution. Anyone found in possession of such weapons should bear the burden of proving intent.

It is no longer tenable to let mobs hurl stones at police officers and still claim to be exercising constitutional rights. Stones maim and kill. Just as the law regards a bullet as lethal, so too must it treat the hand-thrown stone in the same category when deployed against another citizen or public officer.

For Kenya to mature in her democracy, peaceful protest must mean exactly that. Peaceful and unarmed. Criminalising the public display and use of crude weapons is not an assault on freedoms. It is a step towards reclaiming them.

By Billy Mijungu

The courts had already made it clear the National Government Constituency Development Fund (NGCDF) is unconstitutional. That is the legal history. What we are witnessing now is a calculated rush by Members of Parliament to entrench CDF into the Constitution, hoping to cure its long-standing illegality through sheer legislative force.

But even if that amendment sails through, the question of separation of powers will remain. You cannot legislate your way out of constitutional principle. Parliament is not the implementing arm of government. Its core mandate lies in legislation, representation and oversight. When legislators cross over into the domain of project implementation, they blur the lines and weaken the very system they swore to uphold.

In a tactical move, the National Assembly recently passed a constitutional amendment that granted Senators their own Oversight Fund. It is a clever way of buying political goodwill across both Houses. But this also presents a unique opportunity for a national rethinking.

Isn’t it time to abandon the CDF model altogether and instead establish a unified Parliamentary Oversight Fund one that serves both Members of the National Assembly and the Senate? This would align with the constitutional order, strengthen parliamentary scrutiny of the executive and preserve the integrity of the state.

If Members of Parliament are truly interested in bringing development to the people, they should focus on making oversight effective. A well-resourced oversight fund can empower MPs and Senators to audit, question, and follow up on government projects at every level without having to run them.

The surest path to accountability is not through direct control of public funds but through robust and independent oversight. That is how Parliament adds value to governance. That is how we uphold the rule of law.

The time has come to end the constitutional wrestling match with CDF. The energy now should be directed towards strengthening Parliament’s rightful mandate oversight.

The answer is not CDF. The answer is a unified, transparent and constitutionally sound Parliamentary Oversight Fund.

It is regrettable that the recognition and remembrance of Saba Saba has not been consistent in its short 35-year history. One moment it is important. The next moment it is not.

On this 35th anniversary of Saba Saba, we decided to remember and to set the record straight on its significance, what it was and is, and what we ought to do with the foundation it laid for the country.

Before that day, some patriotic Kenyans had demanded the repeal of Section 2A of the constitution. A number of people including Kenneth Matiba, Raila Odinga, Mohammed Ibrahim, Gitobu Imanyara and Charles Rubia, among others, were arrested and detained. It is quite unfortunate that some of the people we were fighting then and who sanctioned those arrests are trying to hide behind Saba to advance their political fortunes.

On the fateful day – July 7, 1990 – thousands of Kenyans tried to gather at the historic Kamukunji grounds to take stock of the past, the state of the nation, and chart a path of freedom forward. We decided that Saba would be a march for political freedom and liberty, “freedom of association”, “freedom of movement”, “freedom of expression”, and a new democratic constitution founded on multipartysm.

Kenyans wanted a fulfilment of the Kenyan dream which was the eradication of poverty, ignorance, and disease.

That clarity of mission is what made Saba Saba different from all other confrontations with the Moi-KANU one-party state.

Saba Saba therefore was, and still is, about the sacred and historic grounds of Kamukunji. It was not and is not just another routine street protest in Nairobi or any other town.

Saba Saba had a singular purpose – the repeal of Section 2A of the Constitution and the allowance of multiparty democracy in Kenya. Saba Saba had clear and known national conveners – Kenneth Matiba, Charles Rubia, and Raila Odinga. It was what gave birth to a bigger and powerful Forum for the Restoration of Democracy (FORD).

FORD had a known nationally inclusive leadership – Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, Phillip Gachoka, Ahmed Bamahariz, Salim Ndamwe, Masinde Muliro, George Nthenge, Kenneth Matiba, Charles Rubia, among others.

Saba was inclusive, democratic, and intergenerational: the old, the young, people in and out of government, professionals, academics, trade unionists, civil society, women’s groups, and religious groups. All of them found their voice in what it stood for – a people’s struggle for good governance, freedom, and equal opportunity for all. It was not one group against the entire nation. It was not community against that community or this age group against that.

The movement stood for a peaceful and constitutional change of guard. That is the reason it focused singularly on amendment and later the overhaul of the constitution. These features are what made Saba Saba succeed.

A year after the march, on December 2, 1991, President Moi capitulated. Section 2A of the constitution was removed; multi-partyism was reinstated. We achieved our core aim, which was to return Kenya to multipartysm. Today, we have more parties than one could imagine then.

That singular amendment paved the way for the complete overhaul of the constitution and the birth in 2010 of a new constitution that came with provisions for fundamental freedoms and liberties that our citizens enjoy today.

It is clear that many of the ideals espoused by the dreamers behind Saba Saba have become part of the national aspiration.

We are a better nation because Saba Saba happened. We have a duty and a responsibility to honour the men and women who dared to dream and to turn out at a time of great peril to themselves and their families.

Thirty-five years later, the country is grappling with a new wave of unrest and political activism.

The question we have to ask ourselves is; “Where do we go from here?” Do we embrace chaos or a coming together of minds and country? As a living architect of the events leading to Saba Saba, I choose a coming together of minds and country in the interest of the country I long fought for — its progress, stability, and prosperity.

The most important struggle taking shape in our country today is the struggle for good governance, economic opportunity, and equality.

The biggest challenge facing Kenya today and into the foreseeable future is how to expand economic opportunity and lift particularly young Kenyans out of poverty, exclusion, and unemployment. Kenyans are yearning for programmes and leaders that prioritise economic inclusivity, social justice, and political freedom. There is no doubt that the country is yearning for legislation that makes our institutions more responsive, programmes that ensure adequate funding for services that touch wananchi, changes that make our Judiciary free, efficient, and progressive, measures that make the Executive more accountable and efficient. We must end impunity and corruption within our three arms of government. Our leaders must become modest, ethical, humble, and accountable.

What is to be done?

I propose an inclusive intergenerational national conclave to hear our people across all divides and come up with irreducible reforms and changes necessary to take the country forward.

I propose that the country urgently returns to the agenda of comprehensive police reforms, focusing on enhancing accountability, transparency, and improving police-to-people relations.

I propose that the conclave envisaged comes up with better and sustainable ways of addressing “Transparency”, “Accountability”, and “Impunity”, especially with regard to corruption and ensuring that leaders are held accountable for their actions.

I propose that the forum comes up with a comprehensive and sustainable strategy for addressing youth unemployment and the expansion of opportunities for youth in the formal and informal sectors.

Such a national conclave must have clear terms of reference and be populated and helmed by the most serious and sober minds in our nation.

The proceeds of the national dialogue should be subjected to a referendum.

I thank you.

By Billy Mijungu

This year’s Saba Saba, a date once synonymous with Kenya’s fight for multiparty democracy, has returned with new energy and painful economic consequences. As dawn broke over Nairobi, the capital city came to an abrupt standstill. Major highways were sealed off, public transport disrupted, businesses shuttered, and offices barely opened their doors.

The city was effectively suspended, not by a formal decree, but by the heavy deployment of state security forces anticipating nationwide protests led by a digitally empowered Gen Z.

From as early as 6:00 AM, Nairobi’s arteries were choked by police roadblocks. Thika Road, Wayaki Way, Mombasa Road, Ngong Road, Valley Road, and Lang’ata Road were all strategically cut off at key intersections. Parliament Road, State House Road, and Harambee Avenue were rendered completely inaccessible.

Commuters were forced to turn back. Ride hailing apps suspended operations in the city center. Logistics and courier companies reported delays and cancellations. Small traders, hawkers, boda boda riders, matatu operators, and office workers found themselves locked out of their usual income streams.

While protester turnout remained sparse in the early hours, with only a few demonstrators assembling near the National Archives, the level of disruption was immense. Security presence far outweighed the crowd. The government’s response, meant to deter protest, instead paralyzed the economy of a city that contributes over one fifth of the country’s GDP.

The Nairobi Business Coalition estimates that over 65 percent of businesses within the CBD and major economic zones remained closed throughout the morning.

The Kenya National Chamber of Commerce and Industry KNCCI projected a one day loss of over KSh 3 billion, with ripple effects across the informal sector, retail markets, supply chains, and digital services.

For a government that claims to support hustlers and small businesses, this kind of shutdown speaks to a deeper contradiction. A single day’s suspension of normalcy in the capital has a direct and devastating impact on millions of livelihoods. It slows down trade, affects tax collection, discourages investment, and compounds public frustration.

Yet at the heart of the protests, both actual and anticipated, is not chaos but clarity. Kenya’s youth are calling for meaningful engagement, economic justice, dignity, and leadership that is transparent and accountable. What they are demanding is not violence but voice. They are not asking to burn buildings but to build a better country. When the state answers such calls with teargas, silence, roadblocks, and surveillance, it exposes its inability to evolve.

The government’s repeated deployment of brute force instead of meaningful dialogue only fuels further alienation. It fails to read the mood of a generation that is both connected and conscious, radical yet rational.

What Kenya needs now is not fear based policing but trust based governance. Listening cannot be a seasonal performance. It must be embedded into our national consciousness, backed by real reforms and inclusive platforms for citizen participation.

Saba Saba 2025 should not just be remembered as the day Nairobi shut down. It should be the day Kenya woke up. If the country must be policed every time young people raise questions, then the real emergency is not on the streets, it is at the heart of leadership. The cost of ignoring voices is no longer just political. As we’ve witnessed today, it is also profoundly economic.

By Billy Mijungu

When the Government of Kenya suddenly suspends the Standard Gauge Railway night passenger services from Mombasa to Nairobi at 10 p.m., it is not just a transportation decision. It is a signal, perhaps unintentional, that resonates with the invisible yet powerful undercurrents of a nation in tension.

When roadblocks mushroom overnight in satellite towns around Nairobi, the picture becomes even clearer. Movement is not only disrupted; it is restrained. People are stopped, questioned, delayed or turned back. What is being declared, without actually saying it, is a silent state of emergency.

In Kenya’s history, we have known formal states of emergency. They come with gazette notices, military patrols, curfews and an official communication that national security is under threat. What we are seeing now is different.

There is no public proclamation, yet the intent is evident. The youth, especially the Gen Z demographic, have recently taken ownership of civic space in a manner never seen before.

Their protests are not rooted in party politics, nor are they orchestrated by old-school activists. They are spontaneous, decentralized and fueled by raw conviction. And that is precisely what makes them formidable.

The Government appears to be reacting to this wave with measures that amount to control through fear and limitation of freedom of movement. But what is missing is long-term thinking. This cannot be about President William Ruto alone. This is about the future of Kenya as a state, about how we govern and how we react to dissent.

Any democratic government must have the capacity to listen, to adapt and to lead with empathy. And here, leadership is not in display of power, it is in accepting accountability.

We are entering uncharted territory where a sitting president could one day be pressured into resigning not because of scandal alone but because the people, in their numbers and voices, demand accountability that cannot be ignored. The Gen Z generation is rewriting the rules of civic engagement. They are refusing to let go of their constitutional rights and they are willing to camp in the streets to defend them. These are not strangers. They are our siblings, our children, our students, our colleagues. They have decided that they will not sit back.

The old tools of repression will not work. You cannot suppress a generation that was born connected, that knows how to mobilize, that knows how to speak directly to power without mediation.

The government should rethink its strategy, not in terms of security and surveillance, but in terms of meaningful dialogue. The attempt to mute this energy through curfews, roadblocks and disruption of public services only radicalizes what is essentially a peaceful, rights-based movement.

The big question is: what will Kenya look like after the next wave of action on June 25th, 2027, and the anticipated rallies on July 7th, 2027? That will mark three years since the historic finance bill protests of 2024 and a new age of political consciousness will be fully grown.

The traditional campaign machinery might become obsolete. The youth have now tested their power and will not relinquish it.
Kenya must choose the path of truth and transformation. To ignore the signals is to prepare for an inevitable storm.

Let us learn before we are forced to reckon. The stability of the state rests on the willingness of its leadership to listen, to adjust and to stand accountable before the people it claims to serve.