Tens of thousands of mourners packed the Mamboleo Stadium in Kisumu on 18 October 2025 to view the body of veteran opposition leader, Raila Odinga. As they hurried through the crowds weeping, they mourned the loss of a key political leader who had spent over three decades fighting for democracy in Kenya.“We are orphans,” they shouted, their grief palpable. But beneath the sorrow lay something else: uncertainty about the future of Kenya’s opposition.Just two days earlier, police had killed three people at the Moi International Kasarani stadium as they tried to disperse the crowds at a public viewing of Odinga.Odinga left behind a legacy that the Luo community – about 5 million of Kenya’s 52 million people – must now navigate. Having never seen one of their own become president, the Luo face a critical question: Can they rally around new leadership that embraces a younger generation pushing for issue-based politics over ethnic loyalty?Since the late 1980s, Odinga has been at the forefront of Kenya’s fight for multiparty democracy – a struggle that ended one-party rule in 1991 and culminated into a new constitution in 2010.He served as prime minister from 2008 to 2013, but it was through a power-sharing deal, following Kenya’s disputed 2007 election, as opposed to an electoral win.He had run for president five times, but never won. In fact, he was imprisoned multiple times. Yet, his campaigns reshaped political discourse and mobilized millions who branded him the ‘Peoples President’.Now, the Luo community finds itself in a moment of reckoning. In Kisumu, the cultural and political stronghold of the Luo community and Odinga’s hometown, many community members express a mix of pride in Odinga’s achievements and frustration over their political marginalization.“We appreciate what he did, but we want more than just memories of struggle,” says Simon Odhiambo (51) a businessman from Kisumu. “We want to see real change.” With no Luo having ever reached the presidency, feelings of political marginalisation run deep. Among the younger generation, these feelings are turning into calls for a new type of leadership. At 38, Member of Parliament Babu Owino represents the establishment’s answer to the leadership vacuum. “Let us be united in the Orange Democratic Movement,” he declared shortly after Odinga’s death, positioning himself to fill the void within the party. His call for unity reflects an attempt to maintain continuity within the party, and consolidate the opposition’s traditional base.But for younger activists demanding accountability and systemic reform, Owino’s message rings hollow. The violent police response to youth-led protests in June 2025, sparked by a blogger’s death in police custody and fueled by rising costs, laid bare the generational divide and the pressing need for change.As Owino champions solidarity and unity, a new cohort of activists is pushing for something fundamentally different.Talia Oyugi, 27, is a human rights advocate whose activism is fueled by demands for justice and equality. She recalls the June protests vividly.“We were out there for accountability, for a government that listens to us. Instead, we faced violence like in the stadium, leaving several injured and some dead,” she tells Africa Uncensored, referring to both the June crackdown and the deaths at Odinga’s funeral viewing.Kevin Karanja, 32, an entrepreneur who aligns himself with the Gen Z movement, echoes her frustration. “Kenya is bigger than all of us; we need to unite as a nation,” he insists, emphasizing a vision for politics that doesn’t rely on tribal affiliations.Both activists point to systemic issues – unemployment, failing education, endemic corruption – as driving youth discontent. Their activism represents not just anger but a fundamental reimagining of what Kenyan politics could be.Social media has become a powerful tool for this generation, enabling them to mobilize support, demand accountability, and challenge the status quo. Hashtags such as #Occupyparliament, #Rejectfinancebill2024, and #Rutomustgo used by protesters during the 2024 protests have enabled Gen Z to use TikTok, X, and Facebook to connect with like-minded individuals and amplify their messages beyond traditional political rallies.On July 5, 2025, Oyugi and Karanja organized a community forum at Jamhuri Primary School in Nairobi focused on climate change, education reform, and economic opportunities – issues they argue affect all Kenyans regardless of ethnicity.“We need leaders who understand our struggles, not just our history,” Oyugi emphasizes.The tension between these visions is unavoidable. Owino’s call for party unity and nationwide representation clashes directly with Gen Z activists’ demands for accountability and deeper reform.Karanja echoes Oyugi’s sentiments. “Kenya is bigger than all of us; we need to unite as a nation,” he asserts, emphasizing a vision for a political future that does not rely on tribal affiliations. Karanja also reflected on a growing desire among younger Kenyans to address systemic issues such as unemployment, education, and corruption that is driving current resentment amongst the youth.
Read briefing Sharon sits on the edge of a wooden bed in Bukembe, gently rocking her infant to sleep. She is 16. Her baby is seven months old. She became pregnant in Grade Six. Her mother, the family’s sole breadwinner, died in October 2025. Her father, James, is old, partially blind, and unemployed. The boy who impregnated her, a 17-year-old, still walks freely in the village.“I was supposed to be in school,” Sharon says softly, adjusting the baby’s blanket. “Now I stay home.”Her story is not an anomaly. In Bungoma County in western Kenya, teenage pregnancy, HIV infections, and gender-based violence are rising together, feeding off poverty, silence, and a protection system that repeatedly fails the girls it is meant to serve. Health officials and legislators now call it a “Triple Threat”.On November 21, 2025, at an engagement forum in Mt. Elgon, the Kenya Women Senators Association (KEWOSA) declared Bungoma’s adolescent health crisis a national emergency, citing rising teenage pregnancies, persistent sexual violence, and new HIV infections among young people. With 66 per cent of the county’s population under 24, nearly 30 per cent are aged between 10 and 19.Senator Veronica Maina said the forum identified three urgent failures: stalled funding for adolescent health programs, weak follow-up on defilement cases, and limited youth-friendly health services in rural areas. “Declarations are meaningless without budgets and timelines,” Maina said, committing KEWOSA to push for ring-fenced funding for adolescent health, stronger oversight of the Children Act (2022), and parliamentary scrutiny of defilement prosecution rates.County officials present pledged to expand youth-friendly services and strengthen community reporting mechanisms. No public timelines or budget figures were issued. KEWOSA said it would pursue both through Senate committees.For Sharon’s family, the distance between political commitment and daily reality is not abstract. James reported his daughter’s case to village elders, the assistant chief, and local administrators. Each time, he was told to handle it at home.“No one wanted to record a statement,” James says. “They told me the boy is also young, that the court will only bring shame.”The case never reached court. Sharon was quietly withdrawn from school. No social worker followed up. No education officer intervened.In 2024, Bungoma reported 192 new HIV infections among adolescents, with an estimated 2,800 youths living with HIV. Adolescent pregnancies remain high, with 122,003 cases recorded between 2016 and 2024, and one in five girls attending their first ANC visit in 2024 is an adolescent. Cases of SGBV among adolescents surged from 32 in 2016 to 805 in 2024, with 41 per cent of cases affecting young people. Socio-economic vulnerabilities, including high poverty, early sexual activity, and alcohol use, further intensify the crisis.Community leaders trace the resurgence of the crisis to the withdrawal of donor funding that once supported HIV awareness, school outreach, and survivor services. Programs run by NGOs that operated between 2010 and 2018 ended without transition plans or county takeover.County budget reviews from recent years show adolescent health often bundled into general health allocations, with no clear line items for outreach, counselling, or school-based prevention. Former NGO workers say awareness campaigns stopped abruptly when grants expired, leaving trained peer educators idle and communities uninformed.Ann Barasa, Director of Gender at the Bungoma County Commissioner’s Office, traces the crisis to overlapping causes. “Poverty is part of it, culture is part of it, awareness level is part of it,” she says. “If you put all those things together, the result is a higher level of GBV.”In Mt. Elgon specifically, Barasa points to the legacy of community violence. “When children are exposed to trauma, they grow up with it. Girls are used for sex when they go to fetch firewood in the forest.”She also names cultural practices that create specific vulnerabilities. During Bukusu circumcision ceremonies, she says, adolescent girls face heightened exposure to sexual activity. Girls raised by stepfathers after their mothers remarry face elevated risks of abuse and incest within the home. “So we have a lot of incest cases here,” Barasa says.“Amina” not her real name, is 15. She was attacked while collecting firewood last year. Her family never reported it.At Korosondiet S.A. Primary School in Mt. Elgon, headteacher Martin Napwora has watched the crisis grow. Teenage pregnancies in his school are not new, he says, but numbers have increased compared to five years ago — a deterioration he links directly to the collapse of donor-funded programmes.“When NGOs left, nothing replaced them,” Napwora says. “Schools try to invite health workers to teach life skills under budget challenges.”Programmes that ran between roughly 2010 and 2018 ended without transition plans or government takeover. Peer educators trained under those schemes were left idle. Awareness campaigns stopped when grants expired.
Read briefing In Côte d’Ivoire, the Singrobo-Ahouaty hydropower dam was meant to showcase President Alassane Ouattara’s vision of green growth and inclusive development. One year after the GreenFakes investigation exposed the project’s environmental costs, residents of the village of Singrobo say conditions have only worsened. Construction has ground to a halt without any official explanation. Behind the promises of modernisation, they describe inadequate compensation, damaged homes and nearly a decade of losses that, they say, have never been properly addressed.Yverin Konan’s house partially collapsed after heavy rains in June. The former fisherman from the village of Singrobo says several neighboring homes have also been destroyed or severely damaged. He blames blasting carried out during construction of the Singrobo-Ahouaty dam, located just a few kilometers away. “The cracks started opening wider and wider, and then, well, that’s how it started collapsing,” he explains in a voice message sent along with photos and videos. “It’s not even habitable anymore. It’s dangerous.”Last year, as part of the GreenFakes investigation done in partnership with media outlets Mediapart, Africa Uncensored, and Mongabay, Mediapart revealed the environmental costs associated with the megaproject. Documents produced by the French environmental consultancy Biotope and obtained by Climate Whistleblowers (CW) estimated that filling the reservoir could submerge more than 1,100 hectares (2,718 acres) of forest and aquatic ecosystems while threatening vulnerable species.The dam’s developers and financiers, who had pledged that the project would not harm the environment, have yet to respond publicly to the shortcomings identified by GreenFakes. But the damage extends well beyond the environment.One year later, CW returned to Singrobo. According to CW, no environmental compensation measures have been implemented on the ground. More strikingly, residents describe an unexpected development: Construction has been at a virtual standstill for months. The machinery has fallen silent, and no official explanation has been provided.The Singrobo-Ahouaty dam was intended to become a flagship infrastructure project. Planned to generate 44 megawatts of electricity from the Bandama River, about 140 kilometers northwest of Abidjan, it was promoted as West Africa’s first large hydropower project developed under a public-private partnership. The total investment was estimated at more than €170 million ($200 million), including €110 million ($129 million) for the design and construction of the dam itself.The 35-year concession was awarded in 2013 to Ivoire Hydro Energy (IHE), a special-purpose company created for the project by a former executive of Côte d’Ivoire’s national electricity utility. Financing was expected to come from private investors and several development finance institutions, including the African Development Bank (AfDB). Construction was awarded to the French engineering group Eiffage, while U.S.-based GE Vernova was selected to operate the facility once completed.Throughout construction, affected communities were repeatedly urged to be patient in the name of the public interest and economic development the project promised to deliver.Residents say they have never been compensated for cracks that appeared not only in their homes, but also in classrooms and the village health center. They say government-appointed experts inspected the damage, but that blasting was intentionally less intense on the day of their visit. According to residents, the assessments never acknowledged any link between the damage and construction activities.”They came and said they were old cracks,” recalls Nanan N’Dri Kouassi, the chief of Singrobo.The conclusion continues to fuel resentment, particularly for owners of homes that were newly built after dam construction began. One of the damaged houses belongs to Adama Coulibaly and Tena Traoré. Their home was built only five years ago under the resettlement program linked to the dam, after project developers relocated them to the outskirts of Singrobo.Beyond the cracked walls, the ceiling is sagging and the wooden fittings are deteriorating. “Getting water is a problem. There’s no water nearby,” Adama Coulibaly says. “That’s why my children and I have health problems because of the dirty water.” To support his claim, his wife, Tena Traoré, pulls out a stack of medical records belonging to one of their children. Coulibaly then picks up a wooden shelf, which crumbles in his hands.The couple says they have never received a formal property title. The only document they possess is a village land transfer certificate signed by the village chief in 2019.For residents such as Yverin Konan, the suspension of construction now feels like a form of justice.“Today, I say glory to God,” he says while looking toward the nearly abandoned facilities.Yet the former fisherman describes himself as an animist. For him, the Bandama River and the wildlife it once sustained, including monkeys and crocodiles, were far more than a source of income; they were sacred beings. “If I could perform other rituals to destroy it, I would. I’m happy that the dam has stopped.”
Read briefing One team has dominated the Kenyan Premier League 21 times, with 4 others dominating the top 5 in almost every season. Could match fixing in the KPL be behind this dominance? An insider blows the whistle on international match-manipulation syndicates that have infiltrated the game and turned it into a dangerous web of dirty money, intimidation, and blackmail. Watch EP4 of our docuseries #VoicesInDarkness, produced by Elijah Kanyi, now.Δ document.getElementById( "ak_js_1" ).setAttribute( "value", ( new Date() ).getTime() );
Read briefing Kenyan football is facing its biggest threat, with perennial allegations of match fixing eroding the quality and integrity of the beloved sport. So what happens when the final score is decided before kickoff?As Kenya prepares to co-host the 2027 Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON), the integrity of the game is more than just a preference; it’s a necessity for survival.Martin K.N Siele is an experienced multimedia journalist and filmmaker committed to telling the most important African stories of the day. His work has appeared in local and international outlets including Quartz, Semafor and Rest of World and spans areas including technology, environment, governance and culture.Δ document.getElementById( "ak_js_1" ).setAttribute( "value", ( new Date() ).getTime() );
Read briefing They picked him from the streets with no warrant, no charge, and no court arraignment. Just a locked room & silence. Mulinge Muteti, a Kenyan human rights defender, went to commemorate the June 25th protest killings. What happened next, he claims, was that he was abducted and disappeared by state agents. #ShadowsofFear, produced by Africa Uncensored’s Moige William, exposes a pattern of abductions & extrajudicial detention targeting Kenyans, activists and ordinary people taken, tortured, then dumped. The chilling part is that Kenya has seen this before, in the Moi era, in the Mwakenya crackdowns, in the darkest chapters of the country’s history.Δ document.getElementById( "ak_js_1" ).setAttribute( "value", ( new Date() ).getTime() );
Read briefing An institution born out of a need for a unifying force against historical conflicts, poverty, poor governance, and economic isolation in a continent where borders were drawn in faraway conference rooms, the African Union (AU) was envisaged as a tool for addressing the common problems facing a united Africa. More than two decades since, those same problems persist while the institution thrives. Whereas conflicts flare up across Sudan and the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo, trade remains stifled by underdeveloped infrastructural networks and non-tariff barriers. Meanwhile, millions of unemployed youth continue to emerge into economies that struggle to accommodate new workforce members. The list of ongoing challenges in Africa goes on. Against this backdrop is the AU, a complex structure of various organs designed to solve Africa’s problems. However, the extent to which these institutions are successful in executing their roles remains debatable. Independent research highlights the gap between the AU’s ambitions and its institutional performance A broader body of independent research echoes these institutional tensions. In its publication The African Union at 20: African perspectives on progress, challenges and prospects (2023), the Institute for Security Studies (ISS) brings together African experts to critically assess the AU’s performance over two decades. The study notes that although the AU was envisioned as a transformative force for governance, peace, and development on the continent, progress has been uneven, with its 20th anniversary marked by relatively muted recognition. It points to recurring constraints across AU organs, including weak enforcement capacity, reliance on political will, and inconsistent commitment from member states, factors that continue to limit effective implementation. The ISS further argues that strengthening the AU requires more than technical adjustments; it demands a deeper reconsideration of how Africa conceptualises, designs, and operationalises its continental institutions. By drawing on diverse African perspectives, the publication contributes to on-going debates on improving the effectiveness of organs such as the AUC, AUDA-NEPAD, and the Pan-African Parliament (PAP), underscoring the persistent gap between institutional ambition and practical delivery. Using the latest available research, institutional actions, and expert opinions, Africa Uncensored explores the following fundamental question about the AU: Are its organs making an impact on shaping Africa’s future, or are they being held back by institutional constraints and political challenges? Based in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, the African capital, the African Union Commission (AUC) acts as the administrative and executive hub of the entire continental institution. It formulates, monitors, and supports the execution of policies across all member states of the institution. According to academic research on the subject, specifically “Punching Above Weight: How the African Union Commission Exercises Agency in Politics”, the AUC has been shown to influence the continent’s agendas and even politics. At the same time, influence is quite distinct from power. Indeed, the AUC is forced to operate within certain boundaries set by sovereign states, each of which has its unique political, economic, and social conditions. During political crises, for instance, the AUC can take measures such as issuing statements or calling upon member states to engage in conflict resolution processes.Such initiatives have failed, however, in addressing the ongoing conflicts in eastern Congo and Sudan. Therefore, while the AUC may be considered influential on a continent scale, the extent of its leadership is quite limited, as its activities depend entirely on the willingness of member states to comply with its recommendations. Whereas the AUC formulates policies, AUDA-NEPAD is charged with the task of implementing those policies. At the recent 2025 Luanda Summit on Infrastructure Financing, the organisation made its intentions very clear: “This Summit was intentional, to move beyond speeches and create a dynamic marketplace, moving us from rhetoric to concrete financing.” This means that there are real challenges facing citizens on a daily basis due to infrastructure deficiencies, such as long travel times along poorly paved roads, power shortages in urban areas, limited availability of water and other utilities, and fragmented logistics and transportation systems hindering trade. According to AUDA-NEPAD, there were US$43.9 billion worth of infrastructure projects in the pipeline. As some of the strategic changes in the approach towards infrastructure development include treating major corridors as continental resources, the organization said: “Our priority PIDA corridors are not just national projects…they require a governance framework to match.” What does it mean for ordinary citizens in practical terms? It means that multiple states should collaborate on large-scale projects in the form of rail transport networks, electricity infrastructure, and port facilities connecting different countries’ economic zones. The problem is that such cooperation may require substantial investments, agreement, and coordination between multiple stakeholders, which often does not happen. For the people affected, the difference can be either positive or negative, depending on the success of infrastructure development.
Read briefing Rose is a 21-year-old woman who was struck by a stray bullet while heading home during the June 25th, 2025, protests in Kenya. She wasn’t demonstrating; she simply found herself caught in the crossfire. Shot twice in the leg, Rose was moved from hospital to hospital as doctors tried to remove the bullet. This story looks at the physical and psychological scars, the human cost of the June 25th protests and the pursuit for justice a year later. What happened to the victims after people “moved on”?Δ document.getElementById( "ak_js_1" ).setAttribute( "value", ( new Date() ).getTime() );
Read briefing Key findings. The abduction of journalist Arlindo Chissale is part of a broader pattern of enforced disappearances and political killings in Mozambique, with over 300 dead and 3,000 victims of violence from October 2024 to January 2025; Our reporting suggests actors close to Mozambique’s ruling party FRELIMO were involved in the surveillance and targeting of […] The post A Campaign of Disappearances: Inside the Killings, Abductions and Surveillance of Mozambique’s Government Critics appeared first on Africa Uncensored.
Read briefing This investigative documentary by Africa Uncensored uncovers the disturbing reality inside Ebenezer Children’s Home in Kajiado, Kenya. Through exclusive whistleblower testimonies and secret audio recordings, we expose allegations of systemic sexual abuse and exploitation within a facility meant to be a sanctuary for vulnerable children. #HavenOfHell also explores the failure of Kenya’s child protection systems, the lack of oversight by the National Council for Children’s Services, and the powerful connections that have allowed these alleged atrocities to continue unhindered. We also look at the impact on survivors and the urgent need for reform in how Kenya manages charitable children’s institutions.I am a journalist based in Nairobi with a passion for investigative journalism and data journalism producing content that sheds light on critical issues in the community. I break down complex ideas and matters into clear and straightforward stories for my audience using emerging storytelling techniques tailored to the needs of contemporary audiences.Δ document.getElementById( "ak_js_1" ).setAttribute( "value", ( new Date() ).getTime() );
Read briefing In Episode 3 of #VoicesInDarkness, we sit down with “Peter” to hear the chilling true story of a criminal encounter and a police standoff that should have been his end. Voices In Darkness is an Africa Uncensored docuseries produced by Elijah Kanyi. Behind every crime, there is a story left untold—until now. The post “I Survived an Execution”: The Man They Couldn’t Kill | VOICES IN DARKNESS EP3 appeared first on Africa Uncensored.
Read briefing East Africa’s high unemployment level is pushing young people to the extreme where well organised individuals through fraudulent job advertisements and a promise for a better life are luring them to work in Myanmar, a South East Asian country that has been under military rule since 2021.On reaching Myanmar through various criminal syndicates, the workers are forced into armed, high-tech scam compounds run by rebels deep in the forests. The victims are trapped in debt and have to endure extreme physical violence as their masters’ push for results.For more than eight months, Africa Uncensored dug into the hidden reality of what happens when people are trafficked, exposing a pipeline that lures vulnerable individuals halfway across the world with promises of legitimate work. But what awaits them is far from what was promised.Their stories reveal not just the reality of trafficking, but the human cost of systems and governments that fail to protect their own people.In the bustling streets of Nairobi, thousands of young people chase the promise of a job and a better life. The Federation of Kenya Employers, a national umbrella body and the voice of employers in Kenya, says that each year, over one million young people enter the country’s job market, but jobs are few and far between. Youth unemployment among those aged 15 to 34 hovers at 67 percent. Two out of three young people are unemployed. The unemployment situation in neighbouring Uganda is similar as young people are left with no option but to scout for jobs abroad.This is how Malcom (not real name), a Ugandan and Kwamboka (not real name) a Kenyan ended up into slavery in the jungles of Myanmar, working for a multi-billion-dollar human trafficking and cyber fraud industry. They each give their accounts independently on how they ended up in the Myanmar jungles far from their homeland.31-year-old Kwamboka, a single mother of two, once dreamed of a better future for her daughters. She wanted to give them a chance at the life she never had. So, when an opportunity to work overseas surfaced, it felt like the break she had been waiting for.A family friend told her there was a job opportunity in Thailand and that she needed to be tipped for scouting for that job. Days later, the family friend took Kwamboka to an office along Ngara Street, Nairobi to meet a travel agent concerned.“I was introduced to a gentleman who mentioned he has jobs as a cleaner, secretary, and customer service. I responded that I would prefer to go with customer service, because it is less demanding,” Kwamboka said.She identifies the travel agent as John Njuguna. It is this Njuguna who handled her travel documents after she paid a processing fee.Within three weeks, everything was set for her to leave. Before she departed, she was introduced to Grace Eshiwani, the person who would become her main link to the supposed employers overseas.“Eshiwani instructed me to go to a cyber cafe where I did a live interview for typing” Kwomboka revealed, noting that it was Njuguna who introduced her to Eshiwani, who then guided her all the way to Bangkok.Before catching the flight to Thailand, Eshiwani coached Kwamboka on what to say if the immigration officers at the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi questioned her.“Don’t tell him you’re going to work. Tell him you are going on vacation. In that ticket, there is a day to go and come back. Everything is in there,” Eshiwani’s message to Kwamboka read.“When we arrived in Bangkok, we met people who had our photos. Not one, not two. We were directed to the vehicle that was to ferry us, a BMW!” Kwamboka said. She now looked at a better life, a fresh start that would make her children back home live a better life.This excitement was short-lived as it spiralled into an 18-hour ordeal. Meanwhile Eshiwani was still in contact with Kwamboka through Telegram. He kept reassuring her that all was proceeding as planned.Disturbed, Kwamboka called Eshiwani to find out what was going on. He reassured her again that he was in Bangkok and that he was going to pick her.“They frisked us, they took our passports and phones, but they forgot to take one of my phones and directed me to the lady’s hostel. I had my phone, immediately I shared my location with Njuguna, my mum and a friend,” shared Kwamboka. “I texted them that this is the place where I am at, but it is not what I was expecting,” she said.Within minutes, soldiers came in, they started by slapping her, speaking a language she could not understand. One of the roommates told her that they wanted her phone. She handed it over.At the camp where Kwamboka was, Samuel Wakoli, a Kenyan and a father of three had arrived days earlier. Wakoli’s agents were the same as Kwamboka, Njuguna and Eshiwani. Wakoli had paid Ksh 170,000 in two installments as processing fee.This was not his first plan to leave Kenya. Wakoli had hoped to travel to Spain, but he could not afford the processing fee of Ksh 300,000. While still in Kenya, Njuguna advised Wakoli to first travel to Bangkok and work in a supermarket from where he will collect the money to take him to Spain.
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