Why Ruto's development project might end in history's dustbin

The Singapore dream notwithstanding, Kenya’s President William Ruto has no shortage of big ideas about how to develop the country. Yet a troubling question persists: Why are so many Kenyans so loudly opposed to the President’s much-touted community development ideas, especially his flagship affordable housing project? And why do these ideas seem doomed to fail, or at best, to join the long list of white elephants that litter Kenya’s undulating path to real development?

The answer lies in two stories commonly told in introductory community development classes.

The first story concerns a street-lighting project in a city we shall call Uru, the capital of Uruland. The project was launched with great fanfare, speeches, and self-congratulation. But shortly after its launch, something strange happened: women in parts of the estate began quietly disabling some of the lights.

And every time the lights were replaced, they were removed by dusk.

The city authorities were baffled and furious. But one community development researcher refused to accept the popular explanation that the disappearance of the lights was the work of saboteurs, disgruntled enemies of progress. Instead, the researcher confronted a simple question: Why were women in specific sections of the estate so determined to keep certain corners dark?

The findings were stunning. The women were neither criminals nor “women of the night.” The problem was far more basic. The houses in the estate had no indoor toilets, and the poor folks, especially the women who needed to relieve themselves at night, had long relied on discreet, dark alleys behind their homes. The new floodlights, therefore, exposed them to embarrassment, danger, and harassment.

The real question, then, was not why women were switching off the lights but whether the estate needed street lighting before it needed toilets.

The second story involves a donor-funded poverty alleviation project in a fishing community along a lake in Uruland. After touring the area, a group of well-meaning investors noticed vast stretches of idle land near the lake.

Like British explorer John Speke discovering the source of the Nile, they believed they had uncovered the ultimate solution to the community’s perennial poverty in farming. And so millions of donor dollars poured in; farming equipment roared and teams of engineers and agriculture experts arrived in the area.

True to their word, the idle land was transformed into a promising farm in a matter of months. Then one morning, the donors woke up to disaster. The entire project lay in ruin.

Unbeknownst to the donors, the “idle” land was a nocturnal grazing yard for herds of hippos. Under the cover of darkness, the animals emerged and flattened the crops, devoured what they could, thanked the project’s investors with noisy belches before vanishing under the waters for a nap.

The point had been made that the villagers had never opposed development. The donors had simply failed to consult all the stakeholders, including the hippos.

The moral of these stories is clear. President Ruto’s bright development ideas may be as blinding as the street lights of Uruland and just as disconnected from lived reality. They may benefit Kenyans about as much as the lakeside farming project benefited the fishing community.

First, because basic community development wisdom tells us that meaningful projects must begin and end with the community itself. Leaders who descend from utopian boardrooms to “develop” supposedly clueless communities should not be surprised when their projects fail or when the benefits are enjoyed by everyone except the intended beneficiaries.

Second, because real development is a process, not a product. It is about empowering people to build homes and livelihoods, not merely counting the number of slums replaced by cold, unaffordable concrete flats.

Third, because the success of a development project depends less on the money or expertise invested and more on the level of community ownership and support it generates.

And finally, because truly transformative development ideas are not born in air-conditioned boardrooms or donor-funded workshops. They emerge from the communities themselves. Until local people are allowed to define “development” in their own language and on their own terms, what leaders celebrate as progress will remain, at least to ordinary Kenyans, nothing more than hot air.