Like many Kenyans in their 30s, I grew up in the era of the 8-4-4 education system.
While imperfect, it occasionally imparted moral lessons intended to shape us into upright citizens.
One such lesson was well encapsulated in a common question in our lower primary school Christian Religious Education exams:
What should you do if you find a wallet full of money on your way to school?
A. Spend the money
B. Leave the wallet where it is
C. Hand it to your headmaster to find the owner
D. Buy some sweets
Those who chose “C” were marked correct but these students would eventually graduate into a society that regarded them as naïve at best, and, at worst, foolish for looking a gift horse in the mouth.
Taking a cue from our morally ambiguous politicians, the unspoken rule is that the “street-smart” answer to our CRE question is to spend the money and strategically distribute it to the right people—the headmaster, the local priest, the police, or even the judge.
Everybody gets a cut.
This ensures you stay out of trouble, and if you play your cards well, it might just propel you into the presidency.
In other words, we’ve veered so far from the moral clarity envisioned by our straight-laced CRE question that it sometimes feels like we’re living in a parallel universe.
And therein lies the core of what ails our 60-year-old republic: impunity run amok.
Put simply, the inmates are running the asylum.
This is what the Gen Z took to the streets to protest just a few months ago and—credit where it’s due— it’s what the Kenyan Church has now courageously addressed with Talmudic detail.
Breaking ranks with President William Ruto’s administration, the Church has spoken out with the force and fiery resolve of an Old Testament prophet rebuking a wayward king.
The tide has turned, and we owe thanks to the Church for finally taking a firm stance against Ruto’s evident policy missteps and his apparent indifference to curbing rampant corruption.
It is telling that Ruto’s first reaction to criticism from such an unexpected quarter was to make a generous donation at a Catholic church in Nairobi on Sunday.
That donation was swiftly rejected, but it served as an important lesson for those who may have missed how this shameless system operates.
For years, the Church has been both a beneficiary and an enabler of ill-gotten wealth by accepting “donations” from politicians with questionable (and often outright corrupt) sources of income.
These contributions often come under the guise of funding church construction, renovations or buying vehicles for clergy.
But make no mistake about it: this is bribery in broad daylight.
This transactional relationship between church and state is nothing new.
Kenya’s political elite have long understood the power of leveraging religion to sanitise their reputations, and the church has, for the most part, been complicit.
This is why on every Sunday evening newscast it’s not uncommon to see politicians flanked by clergy, with the congregation gathered before them.
It’s an image that has become unsettlingly familiar.
The result has been a gradual erosion of the moral authority the church once claimed to uphold.
Now, as this unholy alliance begins to unravel, the nation might finally glimpse the possibility of accountable, civic-minded leadership.
There is, of course, no guarantee that this will happen.
I am, by nature, an incurable optimist but I have lived in this country long enough to never underestimate the power of impunity to have the last word.
As the bloody aftermath of the Gen Z-led protests showed us, our leaders’ greatest fear is a healthy civic discourse that puts them on their toes.
So expect them to intensify their efforts to co-opt the church with even more generous “donations” syphoned from the public purse.
I can only hope the church will remain firm in its convictions and continue to say no to the bribes.
May the wages of corruption never again find their way to the altar.
If Kenya’s churches can resist the pull of this tainted money, perhaps our other institutions stand a chance.
One can only hope.
The author is a lawyer and media practitioner.
