The silent politics of poverty in Kenya

Keria Nkumbo, a dusty trading centre on the border of Meru and Tharaka Nithi, carries within its daily struggles the unspoken truth of Kenya’s politics: When poverty hardens into a way of life, elections are no longer about vision, but about survival. Here, illicit brews flow more readily than opportunity. Teenage girls slip into early marriages while their peers abandon classrooms for bod boda or casual labour, and entire families live under the shadow of want. What is remarkable is not that these problems exist. They exist across the country but that they are so normalised, so routine, that they no longer provoke outrage.

This normalisation is political. For the residents of Keria Nkumbo and countless similar villages across Kenya, elections are not moments of civic renewal but brief seasons when power notices their existence. During those few weeks, politicians descend with sacks of unga, handouts, and empty promises. The people, trapped in cycles of illiteracy and poverty, cannot afford the luxury of asking about policy; their questions are immediate: Will I eat tonight? Will my child remain in school next term? Politics here is not about manifestos. It is about survival.