Article by Damaris Aswa
Bribery is killing hope, stealing futures, and normalizing injustice. What are we really paying for when we give a bribe and what are we losing in return? From hospitals to job interviews, bursaries to justice; bribery in Kenya is not just a transaction, it’s a betrayal of our future. It’s time to talk about it. Loudly. Boldly. Honestly.
Read this eye-opening piece on how corruption is stealing our dignity, our opportunities, and our hope; and what we can do about it. Remember, we’re not just victims of corruption. Sometimes, we’re its accomplices. Thus, change begins with us!
In Kenya today, bribery isn’t just reserved for shady backroom deals and high-level scandals. No, no. It has upgraded, like your smartphone, and is now fully embedded in our daily lives. From the jobless youth hustling in Mombasa, to the small-scale farmer in Bungoma, to the expectant mother in Kilifi, to the student in Kisii; bribery is the uninvited guest that somehow always shows up. The gate crusher!
Come to think of it, you walk into a public hospital, a sick child in your arms, your hope clinging onto that hospital bench. The queue is longer than the Nile, and just when you think your turn has finally come, someone strolls in, flashes a smile (and a suspicious handshake) at the receptionist, and—voila!—straight to the doctor’s office they go. You? You’re still perfecting your sitting posture. Sound familiar? Maybe painfully so.
Okay, how about this… You’re a small-scale farmer. The rains were late, the harvest was poor but there’s a government subsidy program for drought relief. You queue for hours under the hot sun, paperwork in hand, hope in your heart. Suddenly, a big car rolls in. The driver whispers to the clerk, and minutes later, he walks out. You? You’re told, “Ahh, pole, funds zimeisha.” Sound familiar? Does it ring a bell on the subsidized fertilizers as well?
This is the quiet, crushing reality for millions of Kenyans. If honesty were a bribe, Kenya would be the richest nation on Earth.
We don’t just hear about bribery, we live it. It’s the hidden toll gate at every corner of our lives: at police stations, hospitals, schools, job interviews, even burial permits. And safely , we’re not paying for luxuries, but for services that are our basic rights. And the price isn’t just in shillings. It’s in lost dreams, stolen futures, and unnecessary deaths.
Bribery has become so routine, so expected, that when the system actually works properly, we behave like we’ve witnessed a miracle. Remember last year (2024) when passports started being issued without kitu kidogo? Social media lit up like Kenya had just discovered a new mineral.
Seriously, that’s how far we’ve fallen.
But we cannot normalize corruption. We cannot afford to shrug and move on. Because the more we accept it, the deeper the rot grows and the harder it becomes to build the Kenya we all deserve.
But wait! When did the rains start beating us? In layman’s language: When exactly did our moral umbrella get such huge holes?
Is bribery now a survival tactic or an investment strategy?
For many, bribery isn’t a choice, it’s sadly a survival tactic. A young job seeker hears, “Kuja na kitu kidogo” like it’s a line from the national anthem. Students from poor households watch as bursaries meant for them are swallowed up by those who can afford to grease palms. Public services move not by policy anymore, but by payoff.
A woman in maternity labor is told she needs to “talk nicely” before she’s helped. A bright, hopeful student is overlooked because someone else paid to be shortlisted. A desperate father reporting a crime is told to “toa chai” or go solve the crime himself (maybe become Sherlock Holmes?). And that’s why “kangaroo courts” are so common despite the fact that justice becomes a far fetched concept in there.
More than just mere corruption, this is economic violence, right?
It makes me say that bribery is definitely deadly (oops and not in a “savage” Gen Z slang way). Actual deadly.
See, every bribe paid to secure a public tender leads to a corner being cut. Like a road that collapses after the first rains. Like a building that crumbles and buries families alive. Like a hospital with no medicine because procurement officers pocketed funds.
And this is turning out to catastrophic consequences.
Bribery is killing people.
Think about the unqualified contractors building bridges or erecting buildings that collapse on innocent families. The fake agro-inputs sold to farmers. The bogus doctors (some not even properly trained) buy their way into hospitals, where lives are lost due to negligence. Traffic police officers turn a blind eye to overloaded matatus and speeding vehicles in exchange for cash, putting countless lives at risk daily. These aren’t distant risks, they’re real outcomes, happening now.
Perhaps because injustice has become the new normal, a culture.
The most disturbing reality is how deeply bribery has become embedded in our national psyche. We laugh it off. We normalize it. We’ve even coined phrases to make it sound less sinister e.g. “kitu kidogo,” “ya chai,” “ya macho” “ya kushika mkono” “ongea na mtu.” These are not just euphemisms, they are shields used to cover injustice with humor and resignation. And this is part of the reasons a student drops out, a patient dies, a forest disappears, a river disappears, a criminal walks free, a qualified youth gives up on their future, or a farmer who watches crops fail because the real fertilizer was sold on Instagram.
We’ve been conditioned to believe that nothing works unless you pay for it, and in doing so, we’ve started passing that message to our children. We are raising a generation that believes access, opportunity, and justice are bought not earned. That integrity is weakness, and shortcuts are the only way up. We are slowly building a society where fairness is suspicious, and corruption is routine.
Each bribe paid is a thread pulled from the fabric of public safety. And the most tragic part? It’s often the poor, the voiceless, who pay the highest price.
We loose not just our money but our hope to bribery
Every time someone pays a bribe to get a job, a more qualified, honest Kenyan loses an opportunity. Every time a scholarship is sold to the highest bidder, a dream is shattered. Every time a case is shelved at the police station for lack of a bribe, justice dies a little more.
Beyond the enclosed doors of criminality, bribery is a betrayal of our institutions, our values, and each other.
So who’s to blame?
Yes, the system is broken. Yes, those in power have failed us. But let’s be honest (just this once, please!).
While we love blaming “the government” or “big people,” corruption is upheld by millions of small daily actions.
Yes, you read that right! This system is upheld by millions of individual actions.
It’s easy to point fingers at the top and yes, high-level corruption must be exposed and punished. But we must also confront our own role.
Because it’s also the parent who pays to jump the queue. The driver who hands out cash to avoid inspection. The guardian who pays a bribe to secure school admission. The business owner who offers a token to get a license approved.
Every time we say, “Hii Kenya haitabadilika,” and throw up our hands, we are feeding the very broken system we claim to hate.
So, we’re not just victims of corruption we are sometimes its accomplices. Because corruption thrives where accountability is absent and accountability begins with us.
We must break this culture. Speak up. Refuse to pay. Report corrupt practices. Support whistleblowers. Demand transparency at every level. Teach the next generation that integrity is not optional, it is essential.
And when you see something work without a bribe, celebrate it. Normalize it. That is the Kenya we must build.
For the power to change starts with us!
The good news? Corruption is man-made and that means it can be unmade. But it starts with refusing to be part of the cycle.
• Refuse to pay or receive a bribe no matter how small (even when the temptation to “toa kitu kidogo” hits hard).
• Report corrupt practices (yes, even if it means being “that annoying person”).
• Protect whistleblowers (they are the real MVPs).
• Support honest leaders (and hold them accountable, not just during elections).
• Teach your kids that integrity is cool (way cooler than shortcuts).
• Celebrate systems that work and demand more of them.
Let’s build a society where services are based on rights, not relationships. Where access is earned, not bought. Where opportunity is fair, not fixed.
Because a Kenya without bribery isn’t a dream, it’s a decision!
Yes, a decision we must unanimously agree on. We are at a critical point in our country’s story. The road ahead is ours to choose: Will we continue feeding a system that exploits the poor, rewards the dishonest, and punishes the honest? Or will we say enough is enough?
For we are standing at a crossroads. One path leads to continued decay, a country where only the rich, the connected, and the corrupt succeed. The other path leads to justice, equality, and dignity for all.
We ought to acknowledge that the fight against bribery is not just about policies. It’s about conscience. It’s about courage. It’s about refusing to trade your values for convenience.
Let this be the generation that rewrites the story.
Let this be the Kenya that doesn’t ask for kitu kidogo but demands something bigger: justice, fairness, and integrity.
Because in the end, every bribe paid isn’t just a transaction but a theft of the future we deserve.
So the next time someone says “toa kitu kidogo,” ask yourself: What are we really paying for? And what are we losing in return?
Then take a deep breath, look them in the eye and ask:
“Boss, kwani integrity haiji na package?” Or “Boss, sina kitu kidogo. Niko na Uadilifu kubwa!”
If they ask for “chai”, tell them that “chai is for drinking, not bribing!”
Let’s stop bribing and start building.
The Kenya we dream of won’t be built with bribes; it will be built with boldness. Refuse the shortcut. Build the nation. Your grandchildren will thank you!
#StopKituKidogo #BuildKenya #IntegrityFirst #StandForIntegrity #EndCorruption