Wombs for hire: Inside the dark business of surrogacy and why Kenya is attractive

With the cost of living biting deeper and jobs slipping further out of reach, a growing number of women are becoming desperate and are now turning to arrangements once considered rare and alien, just to make a living.

For just a little dime paid as a monthly salary, the women have dared it all, renting their wombs for nine months, carrying babies for others, mostly foreigners, just to make ends meet, arrangements that are sadly ending in regret and betrayal.

Surrogacy, originally thought to help couples unable to conceive, is fast mutating into a shadow economy where women’s bodies are traded, with contracts sealed in sheer secrecy, aided by rogue agents and lawyers. This is happening as authorities look the other way while lives are destroyed.

Kenya is now cited in some reports as one of the most dangerous destinations for commercial surrogacy. The citation is not because the practice itself is illegal, but because it exists in a legal vacuum exploited by rogue players. There are no clear laws to regulate it or safeguards to protect surrogate mothers, and so as agents, clinics and brokers curiously smile all the way to the bank while thousands of traumatised women are left nursing permanent scars.

Even more troubling are reports by anti-human trafficking networks, which now say their investigations can trace how some children born through these arrangements vanish into murky international networks, allegedly trafficked or sold for organs abroad.

When Irene, not her real name, received a call from a close friend mid last year, she was enthusiastic, but that would change her life forever. Irene has The Standard to protect her real identity for safety concerns.

She is only 26 years old, a mother of three who worked in casual retail jobs to support her young family, and until recently . The single mother who hails from the informal settlements of Kayole in Nairobi lost her job, making her world come crashing down.

“I had no job to hang on to, and every time I looked at my children I got depressed,” she told The Standard, seated quietly in her modest home.

“At this stage, I was open to anything, any job that would put food on the table and support my little ones. And it was while debating on what I should pursue that this friend called me.”

Irene says she was told about surrogacy, the ins and outs, how it worked, the dos and the don’ts, the hospital visits, and the money. Everything was explained, she says, in simple, convincing terms, and for starters it was all good. It was all she wanted at this point in life.

She was introduced to a local agency, called Elicy Fertility and Surrogacy Agency, which advertises on popular social media as being based in Nairobi but with no precise location or operating address.

“I was connected to an agent called Cynthia Awuor Opiyo who sounded warm and kind at the beginning. She shared details about surrogacy, how it worked, and promised to link me to a well-paying client,” says Irene.

It didn’t take long before Irene got a call.

An American client from New Jersey was found, with Elicy Fertility brokering a deal for Irene. They promised to pay her a monthly allowance of Sh35,000 for the nine months, in addition to paying for her medical bills until delivery. In the arrangement, she was told that she would deliver the baby and immediately hand it over to the agency after birth.

“The friend who had done surrogacy herself advised that I don’t become emotionally attached to the baby. Just treat everything like a business,” says Irene.

Industry insiders say surrogate mothers in Kenya typically receive between Sh200,000 and Sh1 million per pregnancy. In sharp contrast, surrogates in the United States and parts of Europe can earn the equivalent of Sh10 million or more.

Essentially, Irene was to walk away with slightly over Sh300,000 at the end of nine months.

“They promised Sh10,000 once they transfer the frozen embryo. After this is done, they take you to a surrogacy house for two weeks, then they take you back to hospital to confirm if the pregnancy is positive. Two weeks later, you are back to hospital to check if there is a heartbeat. If it is there, they give you an additional Sh13,000 allowance to buy pregnancy clothes and personal items,” Irene says.

It was not an easy decision. But hunger, debt, and the needs of her children left her little room to think twice.

Irene was taken to a lawyer called Susan Waithera Kagwe to sign a surrogacy agreement. Kagwe was based at the 7th floor of 9 West Office Building in Westlands. She signed the contract but was not allowed to walk out with a copy of it.

“I asked for it but they refused. I started seeing red flags but was too desperate to ask any hard questions. In fact, I didn’t want anyone to notice that I had any second thoughts lest they kick me out of the deal,” she says.

The agency then took her to Fertility Point, a clinic located at Fortis Suites in Upper Hill, Nairobi, where the procedure was conducted.

“I was instructed not to bathe for three days, just lie in bed after the embryo was inserted, all the while under medication and injections by a visiting medic at the surrogacy house in Rongai,” she says.

At first, everything appeared normal as she would undergo the normal pregnancy challenges every woman goes through. If anything, she was already a mother of three.

But in the fourth month of pregnancy, everything changed.

“I started getting complications,” Irene recalls. “Hospital visits became frequent and, deep down, I knew I was not okay because this is not how I had ever felt with pregnancy before.”

Unfortunately, as fate would have it, she lost the pregnancy at week 17.

“It was heartbreaking and too much to bear. I couldn’t believe the baby was no more. They had taken me to Nairobi West Hospital when this happened. I was admitted for five days, and, on the third day, blood started coming out. At this point it was super painful. A doctor came in and confirmed the worst had already happened.”

Once the pregnancy ended, Irene says the agents, who had promised heaven, suddenly turned cold. The end of the pregnancy, she says, ushered in the most inhumane chapter of the journey.

“Cynthia became something else. She almost made it look like the miscarriage was my own making,” Irene recalls.

She was told that the father of the baby was broken financially and that he could not afford Nairobi West Hospital anymore and had suggested something cheaper and more affordable.

The Standard obtained audio recordings of Irene repeatedly calling her agent, Cynthia Awuor Opiyo, shortly after the miscarriage, asking what would become of the deal going forward.

According to Irene, the agent had earlier told her that if anything went wrong between 16 and 25 weeks, she would be compensated with Sh150,000.

“Which money? You can only be paid according to the work done, period! Tell me, if someone employed you today for a salary of Sh10,000 per month and you only worked for one week, will you still be entitled to the full Sh10,000? In your case, tell me, did the baby survive? Why are you in this kind of rush yet it’s barely hours since this happened?” Apiyo is on record telling Irene.

Instead of being taken to a proper medical facility, Irene was moved into a small room near Mbagathi Hospital to be seen by a man whose qualifications remain unclear.

“He cleaned me,” Irene says, her voice trembling. “He injected some medicine and put some under my tongue. It was super painful. I watched the baby come out in pieces, he had to use a syringe to remove the pieces. It was very painful.”

Irene is yet to heal from the wounds and trauma inflicted upon her, left lactating and with no baby to relieve her.

“It was done so crudely that I am not sure if my womb is still intact.”

To get an inside look at how the racket taking advantage of desperate women works, our investigation took us to to a residential complex known as Dove Apartments in Rongai, Kajiado County

This is where Elicy Fertility Agency has rented a space for women who have just been implanted, waiting for the next steps. Here, the women are under round-the-clock care from workers who also cook for them.

“They are kept here so that they are closely monitored and to minimise movement so that the pregnancy remains intact. They don’t want you to do anything lest you spoil the deal,” said a source privy to the operations.

Cynthia is the main conduit between the ladies and her boss and partner, Gaurav Wankhede. His online profile says he is the renowned founder of Become Parents, Bangkok Surrogacy, and Surrogacy Agency Kenya.

“Cynthia is the ground person while Gaurav does the top deals, and so he rarely meets the ladies. Most of the time, they want that arrangement to remain like that. These two have destroyed so many lives in the name of helping people get children and should be investigated,” a source in Rongai, who wished not to be named, told The Standard.

“This is not ordinary business,” says Mutuku Nguli of the Counter Human Trafficking Trust East Africa (CHTEA). “This is a black market.”

According to Nguli, the business involves big money, and for lack of laws and safeguards in Kenya, the country becomes a hunting ground for recruiters.

“If this was done above board, there would be far better care and everything would be clear. For lack of safeguards, that is why there are all manner of opportunists.”

“My organisation did research on surrogacy in Kenya a few years ago when this started taking root in the country. What we found was startling. Believe it or not, we established an existing international network that ships babies outside the country purposely for organ harvesting.”

“We suspect that this is what some agencies have been facilitating, aiding even the processing of passports and everything, and sacrificing young innocent children,” observes Nguli.

Kenya currently has no law protecting women involved in surrogacy.

A Bill sponsored by Suba North MP Millie Odhiambo has already been passed by the National Assembly and is now before the Senate for public participation. If passed the new law would impose strict conditions such as only Kenyan citizens aged 25 to 55 would be allowed to seek surrogacy services. Surrogate mothers would have to be aged between 25 to 45, have given birth before, and undergo medical and psychological assessments.

But until that happens, the industry largely continues to operate unchecked.

“The nature of human beings is that,  without regulations, they are predatory, exploitative, and self-centred. The law therefore exists to mitigate such chaos. What we are seeing are foreigners from rich countries who have seen Kenya and East Africa as places they can exploit,” notes Muthomi Thiankolu, an advocate of the High Court.

“Such life-changing contracts and arrangements require legal advice, and therefore, I would advise everyone to consider having a lawyer by their side,” adds Dr Thiankolu.
Already, multiple court cases have emerged.

In one High Court case, an American couple sued NMC Fertility Clinic, Lotus Fertility Agency, Coptic Hospital, and a Kenyan woman after a surrogacy arrangement went wrong. A DNA test revealed the child born in January 2025 was not biologically theirs.

In another case, the owner of Myra IVF Clinic in Westlands faces a Sh13 million claim from a couple alleging the child born through surrogacy was not genetically theirs.

Countries such as Canada, the UK, Australia, and South Africa allow only altruistic surrogacy, without payment. Some US states, Ukraine, and Georgia permit regulated commercial surrogacy. Others, including France, Germany, and Italy, ban it outright.

For Irene, hope for a better future turned into pain and anguish. The money that she was promised never came as expected and, today, the agents have vanished into thin air. She is left alone to deal with both physical scars and deep psychological wounds.