New Year’s Eve. A friend and I have joined thousands of other Nairobians atop Nairobi Expressway, a brand-new elevated highway that cuts across the city, beginning from Mlolongo, near the airport, all the way to Westlands, the abode of the city’s middle class. This is the second time I have used this highway. The first time was when it was unveiled with much fanfare, only for me to learn that motorists had to pay a fee of nearly 300 shillings every time they used it. Since then, I have stuck to the old road underneath, with all its traffic, loose gravel, and dark corners.
The cars – old Prados, small Nissans, the occasional flashy Mercedes – are parked on the left lane. Motorists are out of their vehicles; some are taking photos and others are discreetly imbibing alcohol. The approaching New Year fills us with a fresh dose of hope, a chance for us to strive, yet again, to achieve our secret dreams. We have gathered up here because this road gives us the best vantage point to observe the annual fireworks at the Old Mutual building in Upper Hill, Nairobi’s corporate district.
Leaning on the rails, I see what looks like a cemetery below, next to the verdant Kenya Railway Golf Club. My friend says that this used to be a cemetery for one of Nairobi’s Asian communities; he is not sure whether it is for the Sikh or the Ismailis. Next to the golf course is Uhuru Park. Uhuru means freedom; several events of national consequence have taken place here. For the last few years, however, this formerly open park that used to be a haven for the weary has been fenced for “renovation” by the city’s authorities. The park is one of the city’s main green spaces and, once upon a time, gave Nairobi the moniker, “The Green City in the Sun.” Unfortunately, it seems most of these spaces are on the fast lane to privatization.
At 12:00 a.m. on the dot, the fireworks light up the sky. A cascade of patterns and colors ushers in 2026. The children scream in joy while the adults take pictures and videos using their smartphones. About twenty minutes later, the show is over and we are driving towards the exit ramp listening to Lady Maureen’s Raila Duogi Dala, a celebration of Kenya’s larger-than-life opposition leader who passed away in October. Raila, nicknamed “The Enigma,” had been at the forefront of the democracy fight in the 1990s, at a time when Kenya was under the iron fist of President Moi.
Nairobi is a city of white elephants. In our quixotic journey to become the new Singapore, we have built massive, ugly structures at great expense. The Expressway is only 17 miles long, but it cost 560 million US dollars and serves a minuscule percentage of the city’s population. This road and the Standard Gauge Railway that runs from Nairobi to the coastal city of Mombasa are the crowning “glories” of the former administration. Not to be outdone, the current administration has decided to accelerate our journey to Singapore by building concrete apartment blocks all around the country, even in rural towns. Massive stadiums are coming up too, and we have been promised more expressways.
The government’s obsession with Singapore is pragmatic in many ways. Firstly, it is meant to be a source of hope, however minimal, for the frustrated and impoverished majority. The political elites know the value of peddling narratives that make them seem like visionaries who know where they are taking the country, and Singapore provides the perfect template of what rapid development entails. Second, the desire to emulate Singapore reflects what many of us consider modernity to be, that is glass, glitz, and concrete. Not green spaces, ample leisure, or sustainable growth.
Even as the administration preaches about our relentless march to a Singaporean state, the Nairobi central business district remains a cauldron of chaos. On weekdays, matatus, the privately owned minibuses that serve as Nairobi’s main form of transportation, jostle for space with pedestrians. The impatient drivers hoot and swerve and curse, all in a bid to complete as many trips as possible. Once in a while, a hapless pedestrian gets knocked over or crushed between the minibuses. In the evenings, exhausted Nairobians form long serpentine queues, waiting, sometimes for an hour or more, to catch a matatu home. The journey to the suburbs can take another hour due to traffic. Every time I stand near Odeon Cinema to take the bus, I can almost smell the fatigue and frustration arising from the mayhem.
To facilitate Kenya’s transformation, our current administration saw it fit to propose higher taxes via 2024’s Finance Bill. While this plan was perfectly sound to our leaders, the youth were not of the same opinion. Chronic unemployment had rendered them immune to the tall tales peddled by our leaders. They became the single biggest force against the proposed taxes, with their protests culminating in a breach of the parliament buildings. Several people were gunned down. In the aftermath, the president called the young protesters “treasonous criminals” who deserved the full wrath of the law.
When the protests unfolded, I was finishing up my studies in Leuven, a small, serene town in Flanders, Belgium. Glued to YouTube, watching thousands of young people fearlessly marching in the streets, I felt a glimmer of hope that this time round, the people might secure a win. Perhaps the administration would resign in shame and let us elect new leaders. But that didn’t happen. Just as in the past, the state unleashed its mercenaries. Youths, many barely twenty years of age, were abducted, detained without trial, tortured; others were murdered and dumped in dams. To this date, some are still missing. The administration made it clear that our road to Singapore will be lined by blood if need be.
Nairobi rewards bad behavior. Those who play by the rules live poor, miserable lives. The rule breakers, those who treat the law as mere suggestion, thrive. Merit means zilch; cronyism is the order of the day. If you have no “connections,” you can forget about any form of social mobility. This reality humbles even the most steadfast advocates of public morality. This is why you will see an economics PhD holder shamelessly praising disastrous economic policies. It is the reason you will see young people brazenly engaging in romance scams and credit card fraud.
Next year, we are going to the ballot once again. Around the city, billboards with messianic images of political aspirants are already coming up. After long absences, the incumbents are scrambling to curry favour with their electorate; last Christmas, a few were seen distributing packets of maize flour, sugar, salt, and other freebies.
As we step into the campaign season, it remains to be seen whether the people will fall into the familiar trap of grand promises. But what is clear is that the young people who bravely stood against punitive taxes are not going to be easily fooled. Their vote could make all the difference.