Category: Business Daily

It is often said that where you bank is where your money learns to grow or disappear. This is especially true in Kenya’s competitive and fast-evolving banking sector.

Today, lenders are not just offering accounts-they are selling convenience, promising growth, and pushing slick mobile apps and appealing offers. But beyond the flashy marketing strategies the real question is, which bank truly works for you?

Whether you are a professional managing a salary and long-term goals or an entrepreneur juggling payments, savings, and credit, your bank plays a key role in your financial journey.

It influences how easily you access funds, the cost of doing business, and your overall peace of mind. Choosing the right one requires more than following a friend’s recommendation-it means knowing what to look for, and how to confirm that the bank actually delivers.

One of the most important factor is the quality of customer service. A bank is more than a place to keep money; it is a daily service provider. According to the 2024 Banking Customer Satisfaction Survey by the Kenya Bankers Association, 80 percent of respondents said they were satisfied with their banks.

Yet 47.3 percent of customers who left a bank did so due to poor service. Pay attention to how quickly a bank responds to queries, how its staff treat customers, and how well it handles complaints. Good service builds trust.

Next, consider the value you get for the cost. Banking fees-whether for maintaining accounts, withdrawing money, or sending funds-can quietly eat into your finances. The same Banking Customer Satisfaction Survey found that 46 percent of customers quit banks because of high charges.

Ask about monthly fees, transaction costs, and interest on savings. Some banks offer fee waivers for digital transactions or maintaining a minimum balance. Choosing a cost-effective bank can save you money over time.

Security is non-negotiable. The Central Bank of Kenya requires all banks to follow strict guidelines to protect customer funds and information. This includes fraud prevention, internal audits, and KYC processes.

A secure bank will ask for your ID, proof of address, and Kenya Revenue Authority PIN when opening an account. These steps might seem tedious but are essential for protecting your finances.

Accessibility is an important factor to think about when choosing a bank. With the rise of agency banking, more people in rural and remote areas can now access basic financial services.

It is worth considering how easy it is to reach your bank-whether it has branches close by, a reliable network of ATMs, or agent outlets where you can deposit or withdraw money.

Closely linked to accessibility is technology. The 2024 survey showed that 56.49 percent of customers prefer mobile or online banking.

Digital platforms are now a core part of financial management. Test a bank’s app: does it let you pay bills, transfer money, or check balances easily? Can you link your account to mobile money? A good banking app should be secure, functional, and user-friendly.

Stability and reputation also matter. A bank might offer excellent products, but if it lacks financial health or transparency, it may not be a safe long-term choice. Check if it has had regulatory issues or scandals. Look into its ownership, profitability, and what customers are saying online. A strong reputation and clean record suggest consistency and reliability.

You should also think about products offered. Some banks tailor services for salaried employees, small businesses, students, or specific groups such as women or farmers. Whether you need a low-interest loan, trader financier for your business, a flexible savings account, or mobile-friendly services, the right bank will offer solutions aligned to your needs.

Understanding these factors is the first step. Look for patterns rather than isolated complaints. Multiple people citing poor service or technical failures is a red flag.

Visit the bank in person. Observe how the branch operates. Are you served promptly? Do staff take time to explain products? Is the environment orderly? This tells you a lot about the bank’s culture and priorities.

Also, review official reports. CBK publishes data on capital adequacy, liquidity, and compliance for all licensed banks. These documents are freely available and can help you assess a bank’s financial standing and risk exposure.

Lastly, if you need personalised advice, consult financial advisors.

Kenya stands at a crucial moment in its battle against cervical cancer, banking on a policy shift that health experts believe will fundamentally reshape the fight against a disease claiming over 3,500 women’s lives every year, according to the latest Globocan, an interactive web-based platform presenting global cancer statistics.

“Cervical cancer is the second most common cancer among women and a leading cause of cancer deaths. Every day, 10 women in Kenya lose their lives to cervical cancer, and without decisive action, this number could rise to 22 daily deaths by 2040,” said Globocan.

The transition to a single-dose HPV vaccination in November 2025 represents a strategic recalibration that could finally make the World Health Organisation’s (WHO) ambitious elimination targets achievable while saving billions of shillings in healthcare costs.

“Within a month, we are moving from two doses of the HPV vaccine to a single dose,” announced Patrick Amoth, Kenya’s Director General of Health, speaking at the National Science Research Translation Congress in October 2025. “This shift is based on our own locally derived data.”

“The switch to a single dose is guided by science. Evidence shows that one shot provides lasting protection against HPV infections that cause cervical cancer. “This marks a turning point in our fight against cervical cancer.”

For a country where only 30 percent of girls complete the full two-dose vaccination series despite 60 percent starting the process, the single-dose policy change addresses the most critical obstacle in cervical cancer prevention: ensuring that protection reaches those who need it most, a strategic roadmap needed to achieve its 2030 elimination goals.

The WHO target mandates that 90 percent of girls are vaccinated against HPV, 70 percent of women are screened, and 90 percent of those diagnosed receive timely treatment.

Under the previous two-dose system, reaching the WHO’s target of 90 percent coverage seemed nearly impossible, requiring the country to triple its current 30 percent completion rate-a 60-percentage-point jump, while simultaneously addressing supply shortages, infrastructure gaps, and the logistical nightmare of tracking millions of girls for follow-up appointments.

With the single-dose approach, Kenya’s existing 60 percent first-dose coverage instantly translates to 60 percent fully vaccinated under the new policy definition.

To hit the WHO’s 90 percent target of vaccinating the young girls, the country now needs to increase coverage by just 30 percentage points instead of 60, and the same vaccine supply that previously protected one fully vaccinated girl can now protect two, effectively doubling the programme’s reach without increasing vaccine procurement budgets.

The single-dose policy provides Kenya with crucial breathing room in this transition by doubling the efficiency of each vaccine dose, allowing the country to achieve higher coverage with lower total vaccine volumes, thereby moderating the budget impact of Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance graduation.

In 2020, Kenya paid just 20 percent of vaccine costs with Gavi covering the remaining 80 percent, but this percentage has been gradually increasing: 25 percent in 2022, 30 percent in 2023, 46 percent in 2024, 62 percent in 2025, and 80 percent in 2026, according to Gavi’s co-financing policy.

From 2027 onwards, Kenya is expected to shoulder the full cost of its vaccination programmes.

Vaccinating a girl at age 10 costs the government approximately Sh1,230 at current subsidised rates, or Sh14,000 post-Gavi graduation, while the cost to the family is zero when delivered through school-based programmes.

Read: Only 33pc of Kenya’s adolescent girls got HPV vaccine in 2023

The financial burden of cervical cancer treatment is catastrophic for Kenyan families, with early-stage treatment costing between Sh110,000 and Sh200,000 in public hospitals, while advanced stage III curative treatment ranges from Sh150,000 to Sh205,000, according to research published in BMC Health Services Research.

Chemotherapy alone averages Sh138,207 per patient per year, with individual cycles costing upwards of Sh30,000 and most patients requiring six or more cycles, bringing chemotherapy costs alone to Sh180,000 or more, the study found. Radiotherapy averages Sh119,036 per patient, while surgical interventions cost approximately Sh128,207 on average.

In private hospitals, the costs become even higher, with radiotherapy sessions costing Sh50,000 per week and patients requiring 30 or more sessions, bringing total radiotherapy costs to Sh1.5 million or higher. Brachytherapy packages in private facilities cost Sh800,000, compared to the Sh40,000 covered by the Social Health Authority in public facilities.

For families living on less than Sh30,000 monthly, these costs are unaffordable, forcing impossible choices between treatment, food, children’s education, and keeping a roof over their heads.

Consequently, many women receive only partial radiotherapy or chemotherapy, significantly reducing their survival chances, with incomplete treatment leading to a two-year survival probability dropping to approximately 45 percent, according to a 2023 study published in BMC Cancer from Moi Teaching and Referral Hospital.

As part of accelerating the speed towards achieving the 2030 target, the Ministry of Health has launched the National Cervical Cancer Elimination Action Plan 2026-2030, marking a comprehensive, multi-stakeholder commitment to end cervical cancer as a public health problem.

“The newly launched, costed and results-oriented action plan is designed to drive progress towards the global 90-70-90 targets. The plan prioritises HPV vaccination, early and equitable screening, prompt treatment and long-term follow-up, in line with the WHO’s strategy to eliminate cervical cancer as a public health threat,” said Aden Duale, CS for health on January 15, during the marking of the National Cervical Cancer Awareness Month.

“As we mark the end of National Cervical Cancer Awareness Month, our efforts must continue beyond today. Vaccinating our girls, early screening, and timely treatment save lives. Let’s ensure every girl and woman has access to these essential services,” added Mary Muthoni, Principal Secretary for Public Health and Professional Standards.

Despite the promising policy shift, significant challenges remain that could hinder Kenya’s progress toward the 90 percent target.

Misinformation about vaccine safety continues to spread, with false claims about infertility and other supposed side effects deterring some parents from allowing their daughters to be vaccinated.

“Vaccine hesitancy remains a major issue. We want to work closely with the media from the beginning, not just during launches, so that accurate information reaches the public,” said Dr Amoth.

“We have made remarkable progress nationally, but the disparities between regions are still too wide. Every missed girl is a missed opportunity to prevent cancer.”

In his book The Social Contract, Jean-Jacques Rousseau observed that ‘despotism is a relationship of dependency between the ruler and the ruled, and is sustained by the people’s acceptance – or their silence’.

This idea feels particularly relevant in Kenya today. We keep talking about poor leadership, and rightly so. Every election cycle brings new faces, fresh slogans and recycled promises. Yet the outcome rarely changes.

Bad leadership is prevalent throughout our institutions. The truth is uncomfortable: bad leaders are not created by ambition or flawed elections alone. They survive because we allow them to through our support, excuses or silence.

Power does not belong to leaders alone. Ordinary citizens play a role, too. Sometimes we cheer them on and defend them. Other times, we stay quiet. Either way, we participate. Bad leadership is not just the fault of one powerful individual; it is a shared social condition shaped by all of us, whether we like it or not.

Consider how we talk. We exaggerate our leaders’ achievements. We make excuses for their failures. Sometimes, criticising ‘our leader’ can feel dangerous or disrespectful, especially if they are from a particular region or belong to a certain political party.

This is how the ‘Pharaoh’ is created. Not by force alone, but through words, stories and repeated justifications. In societies trapped in bad leadership, power does not only flow from the top. It is also sustained by the normalised habits of handouts, tribal loyalty and the idea that ‘it’s our turn to eat now’. Over time, leadership stops being guided by principles and becomes a social routine. This is when we defend our ‘own’, even when they are wrong. We are not protecting leadership but an illusion. Long before leadership becomes a burden to the people, the people have already become a burden to themselves.

Bad leaders are strengthened by our praise. It starts with celebrating every achievement and excusing every mistake. Slowly, criticism becomes taboo. Speaking out is labelled as betrayal. We then crown tyranny.

A bad leader knows how to shape their image. They present themselves as fathers and even saviours.

They tell citizens that the alternative is always worse – that change means chaos and that loyalty means applause. Keeping a bad leader in power is then presented as a national duty, rather than acknowledging it for the problem that it truly is. The real danger is not the leader, but the mindset he creates.

Kenyan banks have lobbied Parliament to have the government sell 300.4 million shares of Safaricom to the public and dispose of the other 5.7 billion shares to South Africa’s Vodacom Group Limited, arguing that this will deepen the capital markets and broaden ownership of the telco.

The Kenya Bankers Association (KBA) on Thursday made submissions to the National Assembly’s Departmental Committee on Finance and National Planning as part of public hearings after the National Treasury signed a deal to sell six billion shares equivalent to a 15 percent stake in Safaricom to Vodacom at a price of Sh34 per share or a total of Sh204.3 billion.

Bankers say they support the transaction but want it amended so that a 0.75 percent stake can be sold to the general public.

Only 25 percent of Safaricom’s shares are currently available for trading on the Nairobi Securities Exchange, with the majority 75 percent held by the government, Vodacom and its UK-based parent firm Vodafone Group.

‘Although banks support the divestiture, the sector recommends that five percent of the shares under divestiture be reserved to the public to broaden public ownership and participation in this national key asset,’ KBA said through its chief executive Raimond Molenje.

‘By placing more Safaricom shares in free float and aligning a major portion with a strategic investor like Vodacom/Vodafone, the NSE stands to benefit from higher liquidity and deeper market participation.’

Should the proposal be accepted, the 300.4 million shares could be offered to the general public for Sh10.2 billion based on the deal price of Sh34 per share which is a premium to the telco’s closing price of Sh29.7 on Thursday.

Such an offer is likely to appeal to institutional investors -who will get a chance to buy many shares in one transaction- as opposed to retail investors who can build their stakes at cheaper prices in the open market.

The agreement between Vodacom and the National Treasury is not cast in stone, meaning that the parties could make changes if they wish to without penalties.

Changes to large-scale negotiated transactions of this nature are, however, rare.

‘No irrevocable undertakings have been given and no options to acquire have been given or received from any existing shareholder of Safaricom and no agreements, arrangements or undertakings exist or are proposed between Vodafone Kenya [Vodacom’s investment vehicle] or any related company or person associated or acting in concert with it and any existing shareholders of Safaricom,’ Vodacom said in a notice.

The South African multinational added that it has, however, received a firm sale commitment from Vodafone from which it is also buying a five percent stake in Safaricom at the same price of Sh34 per share.

As presently structured, the deal will see Vodacom take a controlling 55 percent stake in Safaricom once it buys a total of eight billion shares from the government and Vodafone Group.

The Midrand-based multinational currently owns a 35 percent interest in the telco.

The government will receive Sh204.3 billion for its shares and a separate Sh40.2 billion representing an upfront payment of dividends that will accrue on the State’s residual 20 percent stake in Safaricom. This will bring its total payout to Sh244.5 billion. Vodafone, which is the ultimate parent firm of both Safaricom and Vodacom, will receive Sh68.1 billion for its stake.

This pet business was an accident. In 2017, Taha Mohamedali and a friend got dogs. Getting dog food in Nairobi was a nightmare-shops with no stock, broken card machines, no delivery.

“Why don’t we just import our own?” Taha suggested. But they couldn’t buy small quantities, so they brought in an entire container. Yes, mental. They sold some to friends and were left with mountains of dog food.

That’s how they started selling online. They hired a store guy and a driver. PetStore Kenya was born.

At the time, Taha was doing fundi jobs-installing glass, covered in silicone and dust-while trying to keep his father’s over 100-year-old glass business afloat.

This was the same man who had quit his job as a software engineer at Microsoft in the US to come home and help his ailing father. The family business, Essajee Amijee EA Ltd, had hit serious financial headwinds. It was demoralising work.

The pet business ticked along modestly until Covid hit and a ship got stuck in the Suez Canal. Taha had read Nassim Taleb’s The Black Swan and done risk analysis: the one thing that could kill them was a shipping problem.

So in 2019, he took a frightening loan and ordered eight times their usual stock. When the Suez Canal blocked in 2020, “everyone else had no stock-and we did.”

The business exploded. Now they also rescue and feed strays because, as Taha puts it, “God is watching.”

Behind everything else is a highly intense, obsessive man. Get him going on longevity science or canine psychology, human psychology, and you’ll see just how deep the rabbit hole goes. Like a dog with a bone, you could say.

‘Who are you?’ is always a fascinating question to ask someone-or even to answer. I still struggle with it.

Actually, I don’t. I’ve simplified it, distilled it to a single sentence. And it’s not something I just made up. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for close to 25 years. Who I am is the sum of the things I can do masterfully, with subconscious competence.

If I can drive a car without thinking about it, that’s part of who I am. If I’m a good father-whether that’s a skill I’ve worked on or something I came wired with, because God made me that way-that’s part of who I am.

If I’m rubbish at making a fried egg, that’s also who I am. If I can run long distances poorly but run short distances well, then fine. That tells me something; that part of my who-I-am architecture is sprinter, not endurance runner. That’s how I know who I am.

So what are these things that you can do masterfully and with subconscious competence?

The list is relatively short, it’s around 10 things, less than 10, that I do excessively well. One: I’m a master of anti-aging and longevity. I’m a medical consultant for doctors and individuals.

I have a very deep, meticulous, clinical understanding of human physiology and how to optimise it for peak performance-physically and mentally.

Two: Dogs. I love animals in general, but dogs are at the top of the list. I know a lot about how they work, how they behave, how to communicate with them, train them, feed them, care for them, love them.

Three: I’m a techie. I understand and enjoy figuring out complex systems-not complicated systems. If you want clarity on that distinction, look up Nassim Taleb who wrote The Black Swan, Antifragile, and Skin in the Game. Taleb explains complicated versus complex brilliantly.

Interesting.

Beyond those, there are other things here and there, but those rise to the top. I also have a deep understanding of human psychology. I’ve studied it extensively-the neurochemistry, what drives emotion and behaviour. I can deconstruct behaviour, including my own, and adjust it when needed. I’ve become good at breaking emotions into structural components so they can actually be addressed. Not just I’m having a bad day, let me see a shrink.

A lot of this comes from my own trauma-going through difficult things and not finding answers from people who claimed to be experts. I listened, paid, and hit dead ends. So I studied the thing that affects me most: my emotional life. My depression. My existential questions. I needed to parameterise it.

No therapist is going to tell me how to make money, how to be a good family member, or how to be productive. Those are my pillars: understand money, understand relationships, understand health, be useful.

Did you study this medically, professionally, or academically?

Professionally? No. In school? Not quite. I was pre-med and completed my pre-med studies at Brown University. But I didn’t go to medical school-no financial aid for international students at the time.

So I switched to computer engineering and worked as a software engineer at Microsoft for seven years. Compared to college, life suddenly became very easy. I had time and money.

Going from broke college student to having both felt like heaven. College had been brutal-no partying, just labs, circuit boards, code, a few friends, very little sleep. Microsoft felt like a joke for about five years. I used that time to learn everything that interested me.

I competed in fitness, became a powerlifter, got deep into yoga, became a yoga ambassador. I danced, did circus and aerial arts, even danced at weddings. I took classes endlessly.

During that period, I went deep into human performance science-kinesiology, biomechanics, holistic lifestyle coaching.

Through the CHEK Institute, I was trained in the four doctors: Dr Diet, Dr Movement, Dr Sleep, and Dr Happiness. I already had Dr Movement and Dr Diet. Dr Sleep was an emerging science, and I was young-sleep took care of itself. Dr Happiness was the elusive one. No template. No formula. No dashboard to measure your HQ-your happiness quotient.

Where did you love for dogs come from?

I’ve always had dogs. Since I was about seven, there were dogs in the house. I grew up here in Nairobi, in Westlands, and I spent a lot of time with them. They made me very happy.

Then I went to college and didn’t have dogs around anymore. I lost that daily connection with our family dogs. Years later-around 2009-when I was doing my holistic lifestyle coaching training, I spent time with a modern-day shaman.

He told us something that stayed with me. He said the only real love a human being will ever experience-the kind most religions describe as unconditional love-is the love of a dog. That idea lodged itself in me. Now, I can vouch for that.

You mean to say nobody loves you as much as a dog?

Never. It will never happen.

Even your parents?

Never. Human love is always conditional. Become a thief and start stealing from your parents, and see if they love you the same. Become a millionaire, and see if expectations don’t shift. There are always conditions attached. With a dog, there aren’t.

Is it important to be loved unconditionally? Should you be?

Yes.

By who?

By anybody. That’s a choice. A valid one. And it’s a good question-but the real question is why we ask it in the first place. Is it even possible for a human to love unconditionally?

The honest answer is: probably not. Humans don’t really have the capacity for it, because we’re overridden by two things-fear and greed.

Those two emotions cancel out unconditionality. Dogs don’t have that. They don’t have greed. And fear, when it exists, is immediate-not strategic. A dog might be scared at the moment, but it doesn’t turn it into manipulation.

It doesn’t calculate. A dog doesn’t know who you are, what you’ve done, what you might do tomorrow. You show up and it’s just: Hey. You’re here. Great.

How old are you? How many dogs have you owned?

I’m 43. Growing up-in my childhood and teenage years-we probably had between 20 and 30 dogs over about seven or eight years. They had puppies, dogs passed on, it was a cycle. In my adult life, maybe another 30.

When I was living with my family, we had about six at a time. When I moved out, it dropped to one or two. Now it’s mostly one. And that dog is my life. He sleeps in my bed. My wife and child don’t-he does.

My entire life is organised around him. What time I wake up. What time I sleep. Where I go on holiday. If I’m booking a place, it better accommodate dogs. If a restaurant doesn’t allow dogs, I’m not going.

Wait-why doesn’t your wife sleep in your bed and your dog does?

Because my dog snores less. (Raucous laughter) No, seriously-we have a five-year-old daughter. So my wife sleeps with our child, and I sleep with mine. Our schedules are synchronised differently.

They go to bed at nine because she has to wake up and go to school. My dog and I run on the same clock. If I’m up late, he’s up with me. If I wake up early, he’s up with me. If I go to bed early, he’s there. He’s in sync with me. He is my schedule.

He’s half Staffordshire Bull Terrier, half Labrador-so a bit smaller than a Lab. Medium-sized. About 23 kilos. Incredible temperament.

You got your child a bit late, yes?

Yes-intentionally, but largely because of circumstance. There was a lot of family upheaval. My father fell ill and passed in 2013, and the aftermath took time to deal with. Then came the banking collapses-Chase Bank Kenya and Imperial Bank Kenya in 2015-which wiped me out.

You as a person, or your family?

Both. More me than them. It’s been a decade of rebuilding from scratch. I didn’t have the financial stability to bring a child into the world when I couldn’t even manage myself properly, so we waited. I lost years trying to keep my father alive.

After he passed, there were things that took time to resolve. Then 2015 hit and knocked me out again. I was broke for a long time, started businesses, then Covid happened. And then we had a baby-during Covid.

If I fold this back into who I am now, I run my life with an extreme level of governance. I’ve been hit too many times by unexpected events. So everything is filtered through risk first. Every decision starts with the same question: What’s the risk?

Buying a watch-what’s the risk? Going out for a drink-where, and what’s the risk? My brain now runs a constant, subconscious risk assessment. If it doesn’t pass, I don’t go.

What’s your governance principle on marriage?

Easy. Until inconvenience do us part. I’m serious. Most people enter marriage with these grand vows-until death do us part-which means: you can hate each other, mistreat each other, live completely misaligned, and still feel obligated to stay.

That’s absurd.

Marriage should be easy. If it isn’t, you didn’t enter it with an aligned value system. Period. I didn’t invent that-I learned it from Tony Robbins. He talks about value systems: money, security, family, health, growth, adventure. Everyone ranks these differently. If one person has a high value for adventure and the other prizes stability and security, that marriage will struggle. It’s not moral failure-it’s misalignment.

Top three things you want to achieve this year.

First, I’m gearing toward a business exit. That’s the big one. Second, I want to spend more time with my family. I’ve neglected them over the last three years. Third, I want my health back.

What you see now is a shell of what I used to be. I was strong-muscular. I trained hard, played sports. All that dropped off as I focused on risk mitigation and financial survival.

The exit matters because it buys me time. Time to be present with my child. I lost my father young and didn’t get much everyday time with him. I don’t want to repeat that with my daughter. So while I’m still young-despite what you say-I want to be part of my child’s daily life. I have that chance. I want to take it.

What are you struggling with at 43?

It’s less a struggle and more a question: what do I do with the next half of my life? It’s a challenge of thought. I also struggle with inequality. With humanity. I feel guilt sometimes about being successful-successful by my own definition, not compared to billionaires or anyone like that.

If my life is comfortable and I see other people suffering, I struggle to reconcile that.

Part of it is spiritual. I believe in God. And then I get stuck in that loop: if God cares about everyone, why is this person suffering while I’m okay? I can’t resolve that. No one has ever given me a satisfying answer.

So I wrestle with balance. How much do I do for myself, and how much do I do for the world? Where do I draw the line? Where do I stop and take care of myself? Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I sacrifice my comfort too much. That’s the struggle.

You’ve mentioned traumas. What were they, and what impact did they have?

I’ll keep it high level. When my father passed, there was what I believe was fraud around his estate. I eventually stopped trying to prove it and moved on, but it shattered my idea of family-what it’s supposed to mean. I’d quit my job at Microsoft to come back and take care of him. Not for money. Just to be there.

Then the banks collapsed in 2015. That knocked me out. I come from a 100-year-plus old family business in glass, but I wasn’t a business guy-I was a software engineer. Suddenly, I was jobless, doing manual work: installing glass, mirrors, windows. Being demoralised. Being spoken to badly. Realising how poorly construction workers are treated.

Then Covid. We had a baby with an extremely complicated birth-months in ICU. Every day not knowing if your child will survive changes how you experience life.

After that, a long, messy breakup with a business partner who was also a close friend. Two years-lawyers, court cases, pain on both sides. No villains. Just systems and rules that didn’t evolve as the business did. Around the same time: duties went up, theft in the business, pressure everywhere. Not one catastrophic event.

What I learned-again-was that I didn’t have the tools. So I went back to studying happiness. Looking for frameworks. Looking for modalities. It always comes back to the same question: how do you change how the brain responds? Neuroplasticity.

The number of Kenyan content creators earning seven-figure monthly paycheques directly from YouTube has jumped 60 percent since 2022, according to Alex Okosi, the managing director for Africa at Google and YouTube Emerging Markets.

The surge has been greatly fuelled by a habit where Kenyans are watching Kenyan content, with the country ranking as Africa’s leading consumer of its own homegrown content on YouTube. This, in turn, has been translating into revenue for the creators.

Last September, YouTube revealed it had paid creators over $100 million (nearly Sh13 billion) since 2021.

In 2021, Alphabet, YouTube’s parent company, reported $28.8 billion in advertising revenue, paying $15 billion to creators globally. Under YouTube’s revenue-sharing model, the platform takes 45 percent, while 55 percent goes straight to the creator.

One beneficiary of this boom is James Mutembei, the man behind the popular Mutembei TV, a YouTube channel focused on local news and politics. He launched the channel in August 2019.

At least Sh300,000 monthly

His first earnings from the channel, which has amassed 906,000 subscribers, were Sh157,000, and since then, he has never made anything below Sh300,000 a month. Along the way, the channel has grown into a small newsroom, employing seven people to help produce content consistently.

‘My reason to start a news channel was to fight poverty. Poverty can make you do things that you never thought of. When I was employed, the salary was not enough, and that challenged me to think outside the box. That is how I got here,’ he says.

With more Kenyan creators flooding YouTube, many borrowing from each other’s formats, a familiar debate has emerged of how easy or hard it is to make money on YouTube.

For Mutembei, the answer is obvious. ‘The hack is understanding your viewer’s interest and matching it. If you have the right content, people will come. If you check YouTube, I almost always have a video in the top 10 trending in the country. I just produce the right content, at the right time, consistently. Stick to that, and people will join you and the money follows,’ he adds.

But online comedian Andrew Duncan Oduor, alias 2Mbili, sees things differently. 2Mbili runs three active YouTube channels that focus on Lifestyle, Too Personal with 2Mbili, Everything Cars with 2Mbili and 2Mbili TV, and from his seat, the surge of creators has thinned out earnings.

‘YouTube isn’t as lucrative as it was a few years ago. Earnings have dropped drastically. Many people have shifted to YouTube Shorts. Longer videos aren’t as attractive anymore, and there’s a lot of similar content out there. It’s become monotonous,’ he says.

Since YouTube pays largely based on watch time, fewer minutes watched means smaller payouts. ‘I’m making about a quarter less than what I made two or three years ago. Back then, many creators were buying cars and houses with YouTube money. Once the space became saturated with copycats, many legit creators slowed down or stepped back,’ 2Mbili adds.

The comedian also adds that with new content creators popping up and copying the content style of already established creators, the audiences are always chasing novelty.

‘It’s like getting a new cloth, you want to wear it all the time,’ he adds.

Revenue strategy

For filmmaker and scriptwriter Abel Mutua, YouTube is less a cash cow and more of a revenue strategy. His Mkurugenzi channel, a storytelling platform, boasts 891,000 subscribers, with an average of 200,000 views per video.

The 38-year-old, who rose to fame on Tahidi High, says the channel earns him a decent amount, just not enough to leave him with some pocket change.

‘The money I get from YouTube is not bad, but my staff is huge. I have a payroll of 14 guys from YouTube, I don’t remain with anything made from YouTube, but it is enough to ensure that everybody (workforce) has been fed (paid),’ Abel reveals.

The real payoff for him comes indirectly rather than directly from YouTube. With the growing audience he has been able to attract major brands that target his community, and that is where the he makes his money.

‘When a bank or DSTV comes knocking, that’s the money I take to the bank. YouTube is a tool. I invest heavily in quality storytelling because I know it will attract other income sources.’

Streaming of Abel’s content, like many other Kenyan content creators on YouTube has become a little bit of a nuisance, as often pop-up adverts interrupt viewing, which sometimes are unskippable.

Those ads are a major income stream, supplementing what YouTube pays for watch time. Creators can choose which ads run on their content and where they appear, a decision that directly affects earnings.

‘When adverts are embedded on your channel, that means more money coming your way. The power to select Advert categories and at what point they appear is vested in the creator. However, some creators lose out on maximising advert revenues when they opt not to select all, or enough Ad categories to be served on their content. When that happens, the ads left out are redirected to another creator who is more accommodating,’ Addy Awofisayo, YouTube Music Head Sub-Saharan Africa, explains.

Premium subscribers

YouTubers primarily make money through the YouTube Partner Programme, which allows eligible creators to monetise their content in various ways, with the advertising revenue being the most common stream.

There is also YouTube Premium. Premium subscribers watch content without ads, but creators still get paid through a shared pool of subscription revenue, distributed based on watch time.

But that is not the only pot.

There is also YouTube Premium. Premium subscribers watch content without ads, but creators still get paid through a shared pool of subscription revenue, distributed based on watch time. While there is no fixed payout, Premium views often earn more per view for highly engaged audiences.

‘If you’re a YouTube Premium member, you won’t see ads, so we share your monthly membership fee with creators. The more videos you watch from your favourite creators, the more money they make,’ explains YouTube’s Help Centre.

YouTube Premium has grown rapidly, from 18 million subscribers in 2019 to 125 million in 2025.

Creators can also earn directly through channel memberships, where fans pay a monthly fee in exchange for perks like exclusive badges, emojis and members-only content. For creators with loyal communities, this has become a powerful and reliable revenue stream.

NCBA Group Director of corporate and investment banking Tirus Mwithiga is set to take over as chief executive officer at Commercial International Bank (CIB) Kenya starting next month, marking the second time a smaller institution has recruited a leader that has worked at the Nairobi Securities Exchange-listed firm.

Mr Mwithiga, whose appointment will need to be approved by the Central Bank of Kenya (CBK) and the Central Bank of Egypt (CBE), replaces Abhinav Nehra who has held the post for one year since his appointment in January 2025.

Mortgage financier HF Group on March 1, 2019 appointed Robert Kibaara, a former director of retail banking at NCBA (then trading as NIC), as its chief executive.

CIB Kenya said on Thursday that it will bank on Mr Mwithiga’s leadership skills and market insights to advance its local strategic objectives, as well as support the lender’s projected growth.

‘CIB Kenya Limited is pleased to announce the appointment of Mr Tirus Mwithiga as Chief Executive Officer. His appointment will commence in February 2026, subject to regulatory approval from the CBK and the Central Bank of Egypt CBE,’ said the bank in a statement.

‘CIB is confident that Mr Mwithiga’s experience, leadership skills, and market insights will play a significant role in advancing CIB Kenya’s strategic objectives and supporting the bank’s continued growth and success.’

CIB Kenya is a subsidiary of Egyptian banking multinational CIB Egypt.

The appointment of Mr Mwithiga continues the trend where small and medium-sized banks are poaching executives from large banks. SBM Bank, for instance, on May 8, 2024 appointed former I and M Group chief operating officer Bhartesh Shah as its new chief executive.

The chief executives of the big banks have been in place for many years, resulting in their ambitious associates leaving to helm smaller institutions in career growth moves.

Mr Mwithiga boasts more than 35 years of experience in banking, holding senior positions across retail and corporate operations in Kenyan and regional financial institutions, as well as stints in Singapore.

He is a chartered banker and holds a Master of Business Administration from Bangor University in the United Kingdom.

His exit from NCBA comes amid reports that the lender is the target of a buyout by Africa’s largest bank, Standard Bank Group.

CIB Kenya’s says it expects the new CEO to guide it through operational challenges, strengthen management practices, and support growth.

‘As CIB Kenya commences its current phase of strategic execution, the appointment of new executive leadership reflects the bank’s focus on strengthening management capacity to deliver its strategic priorities and support sustainable growth,” the lender said.

The Common Market for Eastern and Southern Africa (Comesa) has introduced mandatory notifications for cross-border mergers and joint ventures within the trade bloc with a combined turnover or asset base of at least $60 million (Sh7.74 billion).

For digital marketplace transactions, the reporting threshold has been set at $250 million (Sh32.3 billion), assessed on a global basis rather than the size of business attributable to the Comesa region.

The new Comesa Competition and Consumer Protection Regulations of 2025, which came into effect on December 4, 2025, have introduced what is known as a suspensory notification regime, which mandates prior approval by the Comesa Competition and Consumer Commission (CCCC) before the conclusion of a transaction.

They replaced previous regulations that had been in place since 2004, which only required companies to notify the Comesa competition watchdog of a merger decision within 30 days of the parties’ decision to combine operations.

The companies could also conclude the transaction before receiving the approval of the Comesa Competition Commission-as the watchdog was known previously-so long as they issued their notification on time.

‘As a general rule, the 2025 regulations make it very clear that a merger shall not be implemented before the CCCC approves it. There is a prohibition on completion or closing prior to clearance by the CCCC,’ said the commission in a note issued on January 13 to guide stakeholders on the new rules.

The CCCC is required to issue a decision within 120 days of receiving a merger filing, but it can allow an extension where a transaction warrants additional examination.

The updated regulations have also introduced a fine of up to 10 percent of audited annual turnover for any party contravening the notification rules, payable within 45 days of imposition.

For some people, a hot air balloon ride is one of the most peaceful adventures they will ever experience. It is meant to be slow and gentle, almost dreamlike. The balloon is lifted by warm air and guided quietly by the wind.

From above, the world looks kinder. Buildings shrink into neat shapes. Roads curve like lines drawn by hand. Cars move slowly, like toys.

People become tiny dots going about their day. There is often laughter in the basket, cameras clicking, the low roar of gas flames overhead, and a shared feeling that time has slowed down just for you. The experience is often described as magical.

Before the ride begins, you are carefully briefed. You are told what to expect, how to stand, when to bend your knees, how the landing will feel. You sign a waiver that clearly explains the risks. The operators speak with confidence and calm. They have done this many times before. When everything is done right, a hot air balloon ride feels safe, joyful and unforgettable.

This is what Wambui Maina anticipated when she left her house that Sunday morning, before dawn, for an adventurous hot air balloon trip. Nothing prepared her for the horror that awaited her, one that left her visibly shaken.

Wambui describes herself as curious, bold and open to new experiences. Over the years, she has climbed Mount Kenya, gone paragliding, tried jet skiing and taken part in other daring escapades. She understands that adventure always comes with risk. But she also believes that risk must be managed with care, skill and honesty.

‘This one did not feel like an adventure,’ Wambui says quietly. ‘It felt unsafe.’

The ride was a birthday gift from her work team. They had gone out of their way to plan something special, something they believed matched her adventurous spirit. They got the voucher in advance and gifted Wambui who appreciated the effort and the thought behind it. ‘I received a booking confirmation with a date from the company, that was all.’

The confirmation suggested a peaceful early morning flight. ‘It included notes about reporting time, clothing and an estimated flight duration. But it offered very little detail about safety procedures, equipment or what the experience would truly involve,’ says Wambui.

On Saturday night, just hours before the trip, Wambui received a call. She was asked to confirm that she would be available at 6 am on Sunday.

During the call, she asked several questions. ‘How high would the balloon go? How many people would be in the basket?’ She also asked about safety instructions and waivers. Only one question was answered. She was told to enter Uhuru Park through Gate D near the expressway.

On Sunday morning, Wambui arrived at exactly six o’clock. The park was quiet and still. The sky was pale and heavy with early morning clouds. She expected to find a small group of people preparing for flight. Instead, she found that she was the only one.

‘The basket attached to the balloon was small. Based on its size, I assumed the ride was designed for one passenger and the operator,’ explains Wambui. The size didn’t worry her, but after waiting for a few minutes without being attended too, she began to get concerned.

‘The team struggled to get the balloon ready. First, they used a large fan to push air into the fabric. Later, they lit the fire to heat the air and help the balloon rise. The wind kept pushing against them. The balloon refused to cooperate. Minutes passed. Then an hour. Then two. They said the wind was strong that morning and that is why it took so long,’ Wambui recalls.

By the time the balloon was finally ready, it was close to eight in the morning. The calm sunrise moment had passed. Clouds were gathering. The air felt heavier, but the wind was still blowing.

When the operator finally asked her to get into the basket, there was no proper platform or sturdy step. She climbed in by stepping on wooden stumps placed on the ground. It felt improvised and rushed. ‘Nothing like what I had experienced in other adventure settings.’

Only once she was inside the basket did she fully understand what the ride would be like. There were no seats. She would be standing the entire time. There was no harness securing her to the basket. Nothing held her in place except her balance and her grip.

That is when she asked again for clear instructions. She was told they would go up to about 300 feet, enjoy views of Nairobi skyscrapers and then make a soft landing. ‘The operator mentioned that the wind was strong that morning, which had caused the delay, but said everything was fine to proceed.’ She recalls being affirmed.

The safety briefing followed, it was short to the point of being alarming.

‘I was told was to keep my hand on the rope until he told me to let go,’ Wambui says. ‘That was it. I did not sign any waiver.’

Before she had time to process what that meant, the fire was ignited. The balloon began to rise.

The first thing she noticed was the heat. ‘The flame was closer than I expected. I could feel it on my head and along my arms as I held tightly onto the ropes. The basket lifted slowly. For a brief moment, it felt manageable. The city started to sink below my feet and I began thinking that all was going to be well after all,’ says Wambui.

Then the movement changed. The basket stopped rising smoothly. It leaned to one side, then another in jerky motions. Each time Wambui spoke up or asked what was happening, the response was the same. ‘Hand on the rope.’

The basket tilted again. The heat from the flame continued to press down on her head and arms. There was no harness to catch her if she lost balance and the basket walls weren’t high enough to protect her body. She could clearly imagine herself toppling over the edge.

‘I was scared,’ she says. ‘You could feel that something was not right.’

As fear tightened in her chest, something else happened that left her stunned. She noticed a couple jogging through the park below, looking up at the balloon in admiration. ‘The operator shouted down to them not to leave because he would take them next.’

‘I was trembling,’ Wambui says. ‘I could not believe he was talking about another ride while this one was already going wrong.’

The balloon never reached the height she had been promised. Later, the operator said the highest point was 130 feet. ‘I could not tell how high we were.’ She only knew they were still tethered to the ground by ropes on all sides. Inside the basket were two people, herself and the operator, along with four gas cylinders. Then came the moment that changed everything. The gas ran out.

When the operator tried to reignite it, nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. Wambui looked at his face and saw the shock there. ‘That is when my hands froze. Not numb. Just frozen. Like my nerves gave up.’

The operator announced they had to do an emergency landing. There was no explanation or clear instruction for her to follow. This was barely 10 minutes into what was meant to be a 30-minute flight. ‘As the heat faded, the balloon began to descend slowly. Without hot air, it was completely at the mercy of the wind. At one point, the basket tilted sharply. I thought we were going to fall out,’ Wambui says.

When she asked what was happening, the operator told her to relax and repeated the same instruction. ‘Hand on the rope.’

Suddenly the wind got stronger and with the turbulence came rain. Wambui couldn’t take it anymore and demanded to be let out. When the balloon dropped low enough, she jumped off, landed safely on her feet and ran off. ‘I did not look back,’ she says. ‘I just wanted to go home.’

Although Wambui was not injured physically, she was shattered emotionally. For hours, she sat in silence, replaying every moment. She imagined what could have gone wrong. ‘What if the basket had tipped further? What if the rope had slipped from my hands? What if the balloon had dropped faster?’

Later that day, she contacted the operator to complain. The response blamed bad weather, strong winds and rain. They said they had considered cancelling but decided to push on. They offered her a rescheduled flight.

‘That response worried me even more,’ Wambui says. ‘If you thought of cancelling, why did you not?’

For Wambui, this experience exposed deeper public safety issues. In every other high-risk activity she has done, safety came first. ‘If I had been told beforehand that the only safety measure was holding a rope, I would have walked away,’ she says.

She hopes her experience will spark conversation and closer scrutiny of adventure tourism in the city. Because when a ride that is meant to feel magical turns frightening, it is not just one person at risk. ‘I am grateful I walked away safe,’ she says. ‘But this could have ended very differently.’

What makes a hot air balloon safe and sky-ready

Githae Mwaniki, Accountable Manager, Air Balloon Services Kenya (ABS), explains that a hot air balloon is not a novelty craft but a fully recognised aircraft under aviation law.

‘Hot air balloons fall under the category of lighter-than-air aircraft, alongside airships. They are not winged, but they generate lift by being less dense than the surrounding air.’

Githae explains that flight is controlled entirely by temperature.

‘As the burner heats the air inside the envelope, the balloon becomes lighter than the surrounding atmosphere and lifts off. Ascent is controlled by increasing heat, descent by reducing it, and landing is achieved through gradual venting of hot air using the parachute valve.’

Mwaniki emphasises that balloon safety is anchored on three pillars: maintenance, weather, and operational readiness.

‘Before any flight, the first confirmation is that the balloon is airworthy. That means it has valid maintenance certification, a properly updated technical log, and that any defects noted on previous flights have been rectified through scheduled or unscheduled maintenance.’

Weather, he says, is non-negotiable. ‘Wind and rain are the most critical factors. Balloons cannot operate in rain, and each balloon has a maximum surface wind limit defined in its flight manual. If those limits are exceeded, the flight must be cancelled.

For commercial operations, Mwaniki says maintenance is tightly regulated.

‘Commercial hot air balloons undergo a full maintenance inspection every 100 flight hours. If those hours are not reached, an annual inspection is mandatory. In addition, there are intermediate checks at 25 and 50 hours.’

Mwaniki notes that most of the safety burden rests with the operator, not the passenger.

‘The advantage of balloon operations is that passenger safety is largely managed by the operator. Proper maintenance, pilot fitness, crew coordination and site inspection significantly reduce risk.’

Pilots, he adds, must also meet strict licensing and fatigue standards.

‘A pilot must be properly licensed, medically fit, adequately rested and operating within the privileges of their licence for the specific class of balloon.’

All hot air balloons operating in Kenya must meet the national airworthiness code.

‘Balloons are aircraft, so they must have acceptable type certification. Kenya recognises certifications from the FAA (US), EASA (Europe), the UK Civil Aviation Authority, Transport Canada and Brazil’s aviation authority.’

Before launch, pilots follow strict checklists. ‘There are specific pre-flight checks on the basket, fuel cylinders, burner hoses, envelope, suspension lines and parachute valve. These checks are done methodically, assisted by the ground crew, before passengers ever step into the basket.’

Additional design features may be added to a balloon depending on terrain. ‘For areas like the Maasai Mara or Amboseli, manufacturers may reinforce baskets, frames and envelopes to withstand higher winds and rougher terrain. These are operator-specific specifications added when ordering the balloon.’

An interesting development is happening in the Eastern Africa region.

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For a long time, countries in the region have developed intra-trade relationships that have extended to the trade in agricultural products, livestock and animal products, manufactured goods, mining and natural resources, as well as energy and petroleum products, among others.

Looking at the energy and petroleum sector, we have seen cross-border trade in refined petroleum products, the transit of goods through the Mombasa and Dar es Salaam ports, regional collaboration on energy security and standards, and shared infrastructure for transmission and distribution.

This year, we expect trade relations in the energy sector to go a notch further with the launch of an electricity market by the Eastern Africa Power Pool (EAPP).

This is commendable for the region because it will finally allow countries to trade power seamlessly through an interconnected grid. For countries within the market, it means improved electricity reliability for citizens, lower costs, and strengthened regional energy security.

The power pool will link national electricity systems and enable EAPP countries with surplus generation to export to neighbours facing shortfalls or higher electricity production costs, enhancing energy security, improving grid stability and encouraging efficient use of the region’s diverse energy resources.

The EAPP, established in 2005, has so far put in place measures to support the operationalisation of the power market. These include the development of cross-border transmission infrastructure, which has enabled member countries to exchange electricity.

For instance, Kenya imports 200 MW of electricity from Ethiopia and has energy exchange contracts with Uganda and Tanzania.

In 2025, Tanzania also began importing power from Ethiopia through the Ethiopia-Kenya-Tanzania interconnector, marking a significant milestone in Eastern Africa power trade.

Another milestone is the establishment of the Independent Regulatory Board (IRB), which has spearheaded the harmonisation of the regional regulatory framework.

This framework is essential to the success of the electricity market, as it creates a predictable, efficient and fair operating environment, reducing administrative barriers through uniform standards on grid codes, market operations, tariffs, safety and dispute resolution.

A regional power market is therefore a logical next step for Eastern Africa’s energy transition.

By pooling national strengths in hydropower, geothermal, wind and solar, countries can lower costs, improve reliability and reduce system-wide risks. In this context, regional electricity integration becomes a powerful development tool.