The Untold Stories Behind Kenya's Political Elite and the Legacy of Corruption

 

 Recently, I was surprised by the confusion expressed by one of our Kumekucha Telegram Forum members regarding the revelations of land grabs in Moko. They struggled to understand that some of Kenya’s most influential politicians were behind the illegal acquisition of land belonging to East African Portland Cement. These actions eventually led to the painful demolitions of homes built by hardworking Kenyans. Many couldn’t believe that those we admire, the wealthy and powerful politicians, were complicit in these injustices.

This reaction made me realize that many of us, particularly younger Kenyans, lack the historical context of the '80s and '90s, a time when corruption was rampant, and politicians used the government to amass wealth at the expense of the ordinary citizen. The wealth they accumulated often came at the cost of crucial public services, such as healthcare, which led to unnecessary deaths. In essence, much of this wealth is "blood money."

I won't waste time convincing you about the spiritual truth that the way you earn money is far more important than the amount you make. However, it's clear that many fortunes in Kenya have been built through corrupt means. Money has become the focal point of Kenyan society, often even more important than the moral or spiritual consequences of how it's obtained.

A recent story has captured the attention of many, particularly older Kenyans. It involves the daughter of one of the wealthiest men Kenya has ever seen, the late Nicholas Kator Bwatt. His daughter, R Masham, has rejected her inheritance from his colossal estate, which is estimated to be worth around US$1 billion. This story piqued my interest because it sheds light on the darker side of wealth and inheritance in Kenya—something many Kenyans don't fully understand.

R Masham, who is married to Charles Fi Mham, was the daughter of Bwatt’s Israeli wife. Despite the wealth that came from her father’s estate, she rejected the inheritance, and this decision is only a small piece of a much larger story. After Kanu fell from power in 2002, Bwatt, like many wealthy individuals, began transferring his assets out of Kenya, fearing changes in the country’s legal landscape. He and former President Daniel arap Moi moved their wealth to countries like Switzerland and Namibia. But after Bwatt lost his parliamentary seat in the 2007 elections, his assets quickly found their way to Canada, where Masham’s husband, Charles, played a key role in managing the empire.

What many Kenyans don’t know is that Bwatt’s background was deeply tied to intelligence services, including Israeli, British, and South African intelligence. His security details were composed of Israeli commandos, and he maintained a secretive lifestyle, even going as far as using borrowed phones to make calls and deleting them immediately afterward.

Ultimately, the question remains: What’s the point of acquiring so much wealth at the expense of others if it leads to spiritual emptiness? This lesson seems to be lost on many of today’s political leaders who are still profiting from public resources. I can’t help but wonder if they’ll ever learn that true success is not measured by the money you amass, but by the legacy you leave behind.