Category: Business Daily

Across Kenya, the face of new houses is fast changing. Instead of neatly painted walls, home owners are embracing stones: rough or smooth, grey, brown or purple-tinged, each piece slightly different from the one beside it. The same material edges pool decks, lines driveways and bathroom feature walls, giving homes that rugged, beautiful finish.

Tabitha Wanyoike, founder of Gail Stone Works, has been cashing on this trend since she took over her parents stone cutting, shaping and installing business in 2016. In the last decade, she says, she has watched the market move from a niche curiosity to a mainstream choice for homeowners, developers and even recreational spaces.

A stone for every style

“Natural stone in Kenya comes in more varieties than most people realise,” she says. “There is mazeras, the workhorse of the industry, mined along the Kenyan coast and sold in colours that range from grey and brown to black, and the rare sky blue that is mostly found on the shores of rivers.”

Beyond mazeras, there is white, porous coral stone, which Tabitha recommends for interior walls. There is also sandstone, yellow stone from Naivasha, river stones that resemble oversized pebbles, and tanga stone imported from Tanzania, which mimics the look of wood. Soapstone, the most expensive of the lot, is a premium option she largely reserves for bespoke interior features rather than full walls. Then there is blue stone, which Tabitha says despite its name, is not blue at all but a soft purple-grey that suits almost any colour scheme.

“It is simply the most underrated material,” she says.

Like Tabitha, Anthony Maina, a civil engineer by profession and the sole proprietor of BV Mazeras, has also moved to tap the high demand for cladding stones, often venturing as far as Uganda and Tanzania to source unique pieces.

His main customers are new homeowners and renovators who want to give their houses a new look. ‘People do prefer using natural stones due to the aesthetic look and because they are long-lasting,’ he says of the drive behind the trend.

What the stone will cost

Each stone, according to Tabitha, has its own personality. Mazeras is the most versatile, the jack of all trades that works on walls, floors, parking areas and pool decks. It is also the cheapest, starting at around Sh1,200 per square metre.

Tanga stone, imported from Tanzania, goes for about Sh4,500 per square metre and gives a warm, woody finish. Blue stone costs Sh2,000 for smooth cladding and up to Sh3,000 for a bush-hammered finish, while sky blue mazeras, which is scarce because it is mined along riverbeds that flood in the rains, starts at Sh1,500.

At Anthony’s yard, coral stone goes for at least Sh2,000, and ruby stone from Baringo for Sh2,500.

The stone price, however, is only half the budget. Tabitha notes that installation labour is an additional cost that varies with the stone type and the size of the pieces. Standard installation generally ranges from Sh500 to Sh800 per square metre. Smaller stones such as one-inch mazeras demand more cutting and alignment, which pushes labour to as much as Sh1,200.

A fully inclusive job covering materials, labour, adhesives and finishing, such as mazeras cladding, can come to around Sh2,300 per square metre. For a three-bedroom house, installation typically takes between one and three weeks, depending on the size of the pieces.

Paying more for permanence

Tabitha is candid that stone is not the cheap option.

“For anyone building a house, or looking to transform or beautify their space, the question is not just what looks good but what makes sense,” she says. “Natural stone costs more than paint. For a parking area, cabros cost roughly the same, so the decision comes down to aesthetics and longevity. Natural stone gives you both.”

She argues, though, that the upfront cost can be misleading. “For the skirting area, it is actually the cheaper option, because you do not have to repaint every few years. Once you install it, you are set for decades.”

Anthony observes that though the cost was for the longest time off-putting, homeowners are starting to see value for money.

‘Cost was an early worry for buyers, but more people are seeing value for money. And thought logistics costs and quarry prices have crept up slightly, demand continues to grow.’

The winning consideration in favour of cladding stones, he says, is durability since a properly installed wall can last more than 20 years without touch-ups, renovation or repainting. It protects against the dampness that creeps up skirting areas and ruins plaster, and it resists the sun without fading, contrary to popular belief.

“Paint will fade and peel over time, but stone will not,” says Tabitha.

The material is not without complications, however. Supply is finite, and some varieties are already under pressure.

Blue stone and sandstone from Njiru in Machakos County are in high demand and increasingly difficult to source in large quantities. “These are natural stones, and you cannot make them in a factory,” she warns, “so in the near future we might not have as much sandstone and blue stone.”

The installer matters

Installation presents a further challenge, and Tabitha is emphatic that stone is not a job for just any fundi.

“Tile layers often assume their skills transfer, but they do not, because this is a totally different kind of art. The wrong adhesive on a smooth stone can cause it to fall off the wall. Coral stone can be fixed with a cement-and-sand mixture, but smoother stones need specialised adhesives. The wrong choice can cost a homeowner far more in repairs.”

How to spot genuine stone

Most mazeras is mined in Mombasa, while coral stone comes from Malindi and Kilifi. Blue stone and sandstone are sourced from Njiru, along Kangundo Road, and yellow stone from Naivasha.

Several suppliers in Nairobi deliver across the country, but Tabitha advises buyers to visit the yard, see the stone in person and ask questions before committing.

She also offers a simple test for authenticity: real stone has no uniform pattern, and every piece differs, whereas imitations repeat colours and textures. Tapping the stone with a light object helps too, since genuine stone rings while engineered imitations sound dull and muted.

Preservation

For outdoor use, Tabitha recommends a stone polish or varnish that works like sunscreen, sealing the surface against ultraviolet rays, rain and dampness, and also preventing the algae that commonly grow in coastal and damp areas where stone stays wet for long periods. Indoors, most stones need nothing at all, and reapplication every ten years is sufficient at minimal cost.

When spills occur, the earlier you act, the better. Mild dishwashing liquid mixed with warm water is usually enough for everyday cleaning, but acidic cleaners such as vinegar or lemon juice should be avoided because they can dull the surface over time.

Oil-based stains can be drawn out by leaving a paste of bicarbonate of soda and water on them overnight. Sealing does not make stone stain-proof, but it makes it more resistant and buys time to clean up before a spill sets.

Not just for big houses

“Some people believe natural stone is only for big houses or luxury developments. It is not. It works in two-bedroom apartments, bathrooms, pathways and even swimming pools. Others believe it is too heavy or too complicated for small spaces, and that is not true either. The size of the stone determines the installation time, not the size of the house. Smaller pieces, like one-inch mazeras, take longer because there are more than a hundred in a single square metre, whereas larger pieces go up faster. It comes down to what the client wants.”

Weight is nonetheless worth bearing in mind, since stone wall cladding can weigh between 20 and 50 kilogrammes per square metre, depending on thickness and density. For most standard residential walls this poses no difficulty, but for upper floors, thin feature walls or lightweight structures it is wise to consult a structural engineer before installation.

Stone versus porcelain

Porcelain tiles, which start at around Sh2,500 per square metre and need no sealing, sit at a different price point and demand a different kind of care. Porcelain is uniform, low-maintenance and resistant to stains, whereas natural stone is porous, needs sealing and never repeats itself.

Perhaps the most persistent myth is that stone is purely decorative. Tabitha says it adds resale value because it signals quality and permanence, and it can be eco-friendly in the right context. In hot places such as Mombasa, coral stone keeps rooms cooler and reduces the need for air conditioning. In a market flooded with imitations, the appeal of the genuine article is only growing, since no two stones are alike and that quality cannot be copied.

Still, she has a word of caution for anyone rushing into a purchase. “Take your time, because the stone is very expensive. I would not want somebody to put it up simply because it is trendy and then find they do not like the material.”

Looking ahead, Anthony hopes Kenyan natural stone will gain recognition worldwide. ‘I’d really love Kenyan natural stones to be known everywhere in the world,’ he says.

The High Court has blocked creditors from directly using the Insolvency Act to liquidate co-operative societies, ruling that they must first follow the winding-up process prescribed under the Co-operative Societies Act.

The ruling means creditors of financially distressed co-operatives cannot automatically turn to the Insolvency Act when a society defaults on its obligations.

Justice Rhoda Rutto made the ruling in a September 28 case that struck out a petition by Rupsa Regulated NWDT Sacco Society Limited. Rupsa was seeking to liquidate the Kenya Union of Savings and Credit Co-operatives Limited (Kuscco) under the Insolvency Act.

The decision could shape how creditors pursue unpaid debts from co-operatives, with default alone not giving creditors a direct route to liquidation.

The judge said the Co-operative Societies Act expressly excludes application of the Insolvency Act to co-operatives, subject to specific provisions that may be applied through rules made under the Act.

Rupsa, formerly known as PCEA Ruiru Sacco Society, was among 292 saccos, individuals and service providers that had filed lawsuits cumulatively seeking Sh6.48 billion from Kuscco, whose assets were valued at Sh5.4 billion.

The claims pushed saccos to vote to liquidate Kuscco and proportionately share the proceeds. However, Rupsa opposed the move as it pushed to liquidate Kuscco and recover its debt of Sh108.85 million.

The judge said Section 95 of the Co-operative Societies Act provides that, except as expressly provided by rules made under Section 91, the Companies Act, Insolvency Act, and Registration of Business Names Act do not apply to a co-operative society.

‘In my view, the language of section 95 is plain and unambiguous. Parliament expressly excluded the application of the Insolvency Act to a co-operative society, subject only to the qualification contained in the opening words concerning rules made under Section 91,’ said the judge.

The court also rejected Rupsa’s argument that Kuscco’s status as a corporate body brought it within the definition of a company under the Insolvency Act.

The judge noted that while registration under the Co-operative Societies Act gives a society corporate personality, which does not make it a company for purposes of the Insolvency Act.

‘The mere fact that the respondent (Kuscco) is a body corporate cannot bring it within the definition of a company in the Insolvency Act,’ said the judge.

‘If Parliament intended everybody corporate to fall within the definition of ‘company’, there would have been little need for the specific definition in section 2, including the express references to particular entities such as building societies and limited liability partnerships.’

The judge also dismissed the significance of the word ‘Limited’ in Kuscco’s name, saying its legal character was determined by the statute under which it was established, ‘rather than merely by the nomenclature attached to its name’.

The ruling was also based on Section 61(5) of the Co-operative Societies Act, which provides that no co-operative society shall be dissolved or wound up except by an order of the Commissioner for Co-operative Development.

The judge found the provision to be ‘categorical’, saying it vests the power to initiate dissolution and winding-up exclusively in the Commissioner and does not allow a creditor to bypass that mechanism by invoking the Insolvency Act.

The court clarified that this does not remove the High Court from the liquidation process. The first schedule to the Co-operative Societies Act gives the court powers over various aspects of liquidation after the statutory process has been triggered.

‘The High Court’s involvement is supervisory and facilitative within a liquidation process already triggered in accordance with the Co-operative Societies Act. It is not a substitute for the statutory role assigned to the Commissioner,’ the judge said.

Rupsa had argued that Kuscco was insolvent, citing its unpaid demand of Sh108.85 million and financial reports which it said showed the entity had liabilities of about Sh17.7 billion against assets of Sh5.2 billion.

However, the judge said such allegations could not create jurisdiction of the High Court under the Insolvency Act.

‘The fact that the respondent may be indebted, may have been served with a statutory demand or may otherwise satisfy the factual indicators of insolvency does not alter the statutory regime applicable to it,’ she said.

When National Treasury Cabinet Secretary John Mbadi gazetted the Retirement Benefits (Post-Retirement Medical Funds (PRMF) Regulations, 2026, the announcement was framed, predictably, as a savings triumph.

Workers can now ring-fence part of their retirement benefits for healthcare, including up to 50 percent of accrued benefits at retirement, up to 10 percent of accrued benefits while still active, and 100 percent of Additional Voluntary Contributions. Contributions to PRMF also attract tax relief of up to Sh15,000 a month. Trustees will be vetted; funds registered and governance tightened.

It is, on paper, a tidy piece of financial engineering. But on the evidence contained in the Retirement Benefits Authority’s (RBA) own data, it is an answer to only part of the problem. The RBA’s 2025 Statistical Digest tells us that active pension membership stands at 4.02 million people, representing 18.6 percent of Kenya’s employed population and just 13.85 percent of the working-age population.

The PRMF contributions, even after a 647 percent jump, amounted to Sh1.86 billion against total pension contributions of Sh309.3 billion, roughly 0.6 percent of the total. Of that amount, Sh1.85 billion came from occupational schemes alone, while individual and umbrella schemes, barely registered.

The implication is difficult to ignore. A mechanism has been built within a pension system that still reaches only a minority of Kenya’s workforce. For the large majority outside formal retirement arrangements, the challenge is not simply deciding how much of an existing pension to allocate healthcare.

The PRMF framework can, therefore, deepen protection for people already inside the pension system. But without a parallel strategy for extending retirement savings to workers outside it, its reach will remain inherently limited. Even if we set coverage aside for a moment and grant, generously, that PRMFs eventually reach every formal-sector worker in the country, would that solve the underlying problem?

Kenya’s healthcare costs suggest otherwise. Medical inflation is already running well above general inflation. The Kenya Healthcare Federation has put medical inflation at roughly 11 percent annually, while Aon’s 2026 Global Medical Trend Rates report projects a medical trend rate of 13.5 percent for Kenya this year. That is almost three times the projected general inflation rate. That is not simply a savings-rate problem.

Kenya’s health-financing landscape operates across several parallel tracks: the Social Health Authority (SHA), still navigating the transition from NHIF; a fragmented private medical insurance market with significant variation in provider tariffs; and now PRMFs, regulated by the RBA, operating alongside the broader health-financing architecture overseen by the Ministry of Health and the insurance market supervised by the Insurance Regulatory Authority (IRA).

These institutions each have legitimate mandates. What is missing is the interoperability needed to connect to their financing, claims and healthcare data systems.

The Kenya Healthcare Federation’s 2026 Medical Industry Analytics Report illustrates the pressure, reporting a 54 percent increase in medical claims between 2022 and 2025.

When healthcare costs rise substantially faster than general inflation, simply placing more money on the demand side does not automatically make the system more affordable. It may simply create a larger pool of money to finance the same underlying inefficiencies.

According to the RBA’s 2024 Pensioner Survey, 71 percent of pensioners reported having some form of health cover, while 29 percent did not. Among those without cover, out-of-pocket payments remain a major source of healthcare financing.

The instinctive response to these figures is to focus on the savings gap: encourage people to save more and formalise a dedicated medical fund. But the figures point to a broader issue. Even where coverage exists, retirees still face gaps between what a health scheme covers and what healthcare providers charge. The transition from NHIF to SHA has also demonstrated how difficult it is to reform a national health-financing system while maintaining confidence, continuity and predictability for beneficiaries.

A PRMF cannot fix an unreliable insurance product or an inefficient healthcare market. A genuinely coherent national retirement-health policy should therefore start not only with a savings instrument, but with an integration mandate.

Kenya needs stronger interoperability between the RBA, the Insurance Regulatory Authority, SHA and the Ministry of Health; common data standards that allow healthcare spending and claims trends to be understood across financing mechanisms; greater transparency around provider pricing; and stronger reference points for the cost of common procedures and chronic-disease management.

There should also be a predictable mechanism through which PRMF resources interact with existing health-financing arrangements, including SHA and private medical insurance, rather than leaving retirees to navigate multiple systems independently. That requires government and industry to look beyond the financing vehicle and examine the market into which that money ultimately flows.

The PRMF framework is not wrong to exist but PRMFs should be treated as one component of a broader national health-financing strategy, not as the strategy itself.

Workers can save diligently. Funds can vest immediately, transfer portably and enjoy favourable tax treatment. But if those savings are ultimately spent in a healthcare market where costs continue to rise faster than incomes and where financing systems remain poorly connected, the country will have solved only half the problem.

Kenya does not primarily have a savings-rate problem in retirement healthcare, it has a systems problem, and no amount of contribution vesting will fix it.

A finance team receives what appears to be a routine supplier request. The email tone is familiar, the invoice looks authentic, and the approval trail seems complete. By the time doubts emerge, the payment has moved through several accounts, and the evidence is scattered across emails, documents, systems, and chat messages.

This is the new face of corporate fraud. It is faster, more digital, exceptionally convincing, and powered by the exact same technologies that organizations are adopting to drive their own growth.

As artificial intelligence rapidly alters the business landscape, a critical paradox is emerging in corporate security: businesses are spending more on anti-fraud technology than ever before, yet they remain highly vulnerable. The Association of Certified Fraud Examiners’ (ACFE) 2026 Anti-Fraud Technology Benchmarking Report captures this shift clearly. Based on responses from 713 anti-fraud professionals globally, the report reveals that while technology investments are surging, many organizations struggle to translate these investments into sustained resilience.

The core issue, and the argument that must define our approach moving forward, is that simply acquiring anti-fraud technology is no longer a viable defence. The true battleground is not technology itself, but governance, integration, and proactive risk mapping. AI is a double-edged sword; fighting AI-powered fraud requires more than just AI-powered defences. It requires a fundamental shift in how organizations conceptualize and govern their unique risk landscapes.

To understand this, we must look at how data is currently used. Data analytics remains the foundation of modern fraud prevention. According to the ACFE report, 82percent of organizations now use at least one form of analytics in their anti-fraud programs; a positive shift from purely reactive investigations toward proactive monitoring. Exception reporting, automated red flags, and anomaly detection are increasingly deployed to flag unusual transactions, procurement irregularities, and suspicious disbursements.

The benefits are undeniable, with over 80percent of respondents reporting improvements in detection speed, accuracy, and operational efficiency. Yet, the value of these tools remains vastly under-realized. Why? Because the approach is often fragmented. Only 34percent of organisations analyse unstructured data, such as emails, text messages, and social media, despite its crucial role in identifying collusion, scams, and manipulation. Less than two-thirds consistently combine multiple internal and external data sources.

This blind spot is becoming exponentially more dangerous as AI adoption accelerates. The ACFE notes that one in four organizations now use AI or machine learning in fraud analytics, with another 28 percent planning to adopt it within two years. While generative AI is being used constructively for risk identification and investigative support, it is simultaneously arming fraudsters.

Deepfake social engineering, AI-generated document fraud, and synthetic identities are no longer theoretical threats; they are active, scalable weapons. Governance around these tools remains dangerously weak. Few organizations feel fully confident in explaining AI-driven anti-fraud decisions or stress-testing their models for inherent biases.

Instead of relying on siloed, spreadsheet-based audits, modern organizations must utilize structured, technology-enabled views of their fraud exposure. They must map complex fraud typologies, including AI-enabled schemes, to key processes, allowing leadership a clear, real-time view of inherent and residual risks across multiple subsidiaries and jurisdictions.

The message for today’s corporate leaders is unequivocal. As organizations integrate AI and emerging technologies into their DNA, fraud risks are becoming too complex to be caught by traditional, fragmented approaches. Building genuine resilience requires far more than writing a check for new software. It demands proactive, data-led, and rigorously governed fraud risk management programs that continuously assess vulnerabilities and adapt to emerging threats.

Coincidence or just perfect timing? It is fascinating how artistic expressions sometimes mirror the current state of the world. From geopolitical to what is happening with oil in our country, art has an uncanny way of reflecting real life. This film’s greatest strength and weakness is offering a sharp examination of these issues, especially during the first 30 minutes, before the story takes a turn.

Those early moments in the film give an exaggerated look at the unhinged nature of politicians, exaggerated yes, but true. And no, I am not talking about Kenyan politicians only.

Concepts such as narrative control, spinning stories, and managing public perception are touched on but from an exaggerated comic angle, but it’s in the performances from the actor that will make you think of the real world.

Last week, I wrote about the unfolding Tata Sons boardroom fight in Mumbai, India that is turning out to be a classic case study of how trusts are used to govern family businesses.

A quick recap for anyone just joining: on September 17, 2026, the Tata Sons board voted 4-1 to reappoint N Chandrasekaran as chairman for another five years, over the one objection of Noel Tata, chairman of the Tata Trusts. The Trusts, who hold about 66 percent of the company, called it a legal nullity. Since then, the fight has widened rather than settled.

First, the mechanics of that vote deserve a closer look. The Tata Sons board has six directors: Chandrasekaran, Noel Tata, Venu Srinivasan, independent directors Harish Manwani and Anita George, and the group Chief Financial Officer, Saurabh Agrawal. Tata Trusts nominates two directors, Noel Tata and Venu Srinivasan.

On the chairman’s reappointment vote, Chandrasekaran recused himself, as he should, since no one should mark their own exam. That left five votes. Noel Tata voted no. Venu Srinivasan, the Trusts’ own nominee, voted yes, siding with Manwani, George and Agrawal. Four to one, carried comfortably, no tie, no drama in the counting.

So why does everyone keep talking about a “casting vote”? Because under Article 121 of Tata’s Articles of Association, the chairman has a casting vote in case of an equality of votes among the directors appointed under Article 104B, which covers board decisions generally.

Some commentary on this saga has pointed out that if you isolate just the two Trust nominees, Srinivasan and Noel Tata split one-all, on a decision that the Trusts say should have required the joint, affirmative backing of the Trusts nominees before the matter could pass at all. The vote passed anyway, because the ordinary board majority, including the two independent directors and the CFO, carried it regardless.

Here is the governance question worth sitting with: What happens when the person a tied vote would decide is the very chairman holding the tie-breaker? Chandrasekaran cleverly avoided that trap by stepping aside. But Article 121 does not require him to. Imagine a version of this story where the directors split two-two, and the chairman, still in the room, still holding the gavel, cast the deciding vote on his own job.

That is not hypothetical governance theatre; it is exactly the kind of clause that sits quietly in articles of association until the one meeting where it matters most. The lesson for boards here is to write an explicit carve-out: no casting vote, by anyone, on a matter in which a director has a personal interest. Recusal should be the rule, not the chairman’s good manners.

Another interesting governance angle to this whole saga is the premise of director independence. The Deccan Herald and the Tribune India newspapers report that on September 16, 2026, the day before the board meeting, the Sir Dorabji Tata Trust (SDTT) circulated a resolution to the trustees.

The resolution sought to bar the SDTT vice chairman, Venu Srinivasan in his capacity as the Trusts’ nominee director, from participating in or voting on Tata Sons’ proposed listing. Srinivasan didn’t comply. He later described it as ‘an extraordinary attempt to prevent me from exercising my independent judgement and vote,’ graming it as the Trust overstepping into territory that belongs to him as a director acting in the company’s interest, not as the Trust’s delegate.

The next day, September 17, he went ahead and voted both to reappoint Chandrasekaran and in favour of moving toward listing, alongside the three other directors, with only Noel Tata dissenting on both counts.

The fight has since spilled well past the boardroom. Venu Srinivasan and fellow SDTT trustee Vijay Singh have separately written to the Maharashtra State’s Charity Commissioner asking for an inquiry into the SDTT’s own governance, accusing it of overreaching into Tata Sons’ commercial decisions, including the proposed buyout of the Shapoorji Pallonji Group’s stake and the listing debate itself. Read that twice: the Trusts’ own vice-chairmen are now asking a regulator to investigate the Trusts.

What should East African boards take from this chapter? That a casting-vote clause is not a neutral tie-breaker sitting dormant in your articles; it is a loaded instrument that needs its own safety catch. No director, chairman included, should cast a deciding vote on their own appointment, pay, or exit.

The second lesson is that a nominating authority can only try and influence how its director nominee votes for so long, until the yoke of independence yanks that director back into company law conformance. Next week, we’ll take a look at what the forced listing issue is all about and what corporate restructuring gymnastics the Tata family is attempting to avoid it at all costs.

Human papillomavirus (HPV) is best known for its link to cervical cancer in women. However, the virus can also cause cancer in men, particularly in the middle part of the throat behind the mouth.

This type of cancer, known as oropharyngeal cancer (head and neck), affects areas including the tonsils, the base of the tongue, and the soft palate.

Valerie Salano, an ENT surgeon at the Aga Khan University Hospital, explains the link between HPV and head and neck cancer in men, how the virus is transmitted, which symptoms to watch out for, and how men can reduce their risk.

Which throat cancers are most strongly linked to HPV?

“When it comes to head and neck cancers, HPV is mainly linked with oropharyngeal cancers, which involve the tonsils, the base of the tongue and the soft palate, the soft part at the back of the roof of your mouth,” says Dr Salano.

HPV can also occur in other parts of the head and neck, such as the larynx and hypopharynx, but these areas are less commonly associated with the virus.

How does HPV get into the mouth and throat?

HPV can be transmitted through sexual contact, including oral sex. When a person performs oral sex on someone with a genital HPV infection, the virus can come into contact with cells in the mouth and throat.

“Anyone sexually active, especially through oral sexual contact, could have been exposed to HPV,” says Dr Salano.

Having several sexual partners can increase the opportunity to be exposed to different types of HPV.

“If you perform unprotected oral sex on someone with an HPV infection in the genital area, you are exposing the oral cavity and its cells to HPV,” she says.

But does having HPV mean that a man will develop oropharyngeal cancer?

“No,” says Dr Salano, noting that the body’s immune system naturally clears it. The concern is a long-lasting infection with a high-risk type of HPV that remains in the body for a prolonged period.

“You can have HPV in your system, and then, after some time, it can be cleared naturally,” she says.

One of the high-risk types associated with oropharyngeal cancer is HPV-16, which can cause abnormal cell changes if the infection remains in the body for a long time.

So, how can HPV eventually lead to cancer?

When a high-risk type of HPV remains in the body for a long time, it can interfere with the normal controls that regulate the growth of infected cells.

The cells may begin to grow and divide abnormally. Over time, these changes can accumulate and, in some cases, develop into cancer.

“However, there needs to be a long-lasting infection with a high-risk type, such as HPV-16, for us to be concerned about the changes that can eventually lead to cancer,” says Dr Salano.

What symptoms should men watch for?

Any persistent symptoms in the mouth, throat or neck should be assessed by a doctor.

Warning signs include pain or difficulty swallowing, a sore or ulcer at the back of the mouth or throat that does not heal, a growth around the tonsil or one tonsil becoming larger than the other.

“You may experience persistent pain when swallowing or have an ulcer at the back of your throat or mouth that does not heal. You may also notice a growth on your tonsil or find that one tonsil is larger than the other,” says Dr Salano.

A persistent sensation of a lump in the throat or a painless swelling in the neck that continues to grow may also require assessment.

“You may feel as if there is a lump in your throat or develop a painless swelling in your neck that has been there for quite a while and continues to grow,” she says.

Why does throat cancer cause ear pain, and what does that mean?

Persistent ear pain does not necessarily mean that there is a problem with the ear itself. Some of the nerves that supply the throat also supply the ear. Therefore, a problem in the throat can cause what doctors call ‘referred pain’, where pain is felt in another part of the body.

“A person can have pain in the ear, but when you examine the ear, it is fine. This is referred pain, because the nerve that supplies the throat also supplies the ear,” says Dr Salano.

Further examination may then identify a problem in the throat.

Is there a routine screening test for HPV-related throat cancer in men?

Currently, there is no screening programme for HPV-related oropharyngeal cancer in men that is comparable to cervical cancer screening.

Therefore, men should seek a medical assessment if they develop persistent symptoms, rather than waiting for a screening appointment.

“If you have symptoms such as a persistent lump in your throat or neck, or persistent ear pain, it is best to have it checked by your doctor,” says Dr Salano.

The doctor will take a detailed medical history and examine the patient before deciding whether further tests are needed.

Men should therefore provide a full medical history, including information about smoking, alcohol use, sexual history, and conditions that affect the immune system, such as HIV.

This information can help to guide the assessment of persistent throat or neck symptoms, and determine whether further examination or testing is required.

How can men reduce their risk of HPV-related cancers?

The HPV vaccine can help to prevent infection with the types of HPV that cause cancer, and it is most effective when administered before exposure to the virus.

Adopting safer sexual practices can also reduce the risk of HPV transmission, although it does not eliminate it.

Avoiding tobacco and limiting alcohol consumption can further reduce the risk of throat cancer and other head and neck cancers.

Dr Salano says that men should seek medical attention instead of ignoring persistent symptoms.

How common are HPV-related head and neck cancers in Kenya?

It is difficult to establish the extent of HPV-related oropharyngeal cancer in Kenya because HPV testing is not routinely performed on every patient with throat cancer.

Tobacco and alcohol remain important risk factors for throat cancers in Kenya, particularly among men, but HPV-related cancers are also being identified.

“Most of the oropharyngeal cancers we see are still in men, but we find them to be more linked to tobacco and alcohol. At the same time, we are seeing HPV, but testing is not usually done routinely,” says Dr Salano.

While a biopsy can confirm that a patient has cancer, the tissue is not always tested further to establish whether HPV is involved.

“Most institutions do not routinely test tissue samples for HPV after confirming that a patient has cancer,” she says.

There is a particular kind of relationship that financial analysts describe as “comfortable but concerning.” Everything looks fine on the surface: no missed payments, no dramatic headlines. Yet underneath, structural imbalances are quietly accumulating.

Kenya’s banking sector and its sovereign debt market have settled into exactly this arrangement, and the world’s financial watchdogs are beginning to take notice.

Kenyan banks collectively hold Sh2.2 trillion in government securities: Treasury bills, bonds, and other sovereign instruments issued by the Exchequer. That figure represents 30 percent of all domestic debt outstanding and roughly 27 percent of total banking assets.

More than a quarter of every shilling in Kenya’s banking system is, in some form, lent back to the government. The appetite is growing too: banks added Sh150 billion to these holdings in just six months to August 2026.

The logic is not hard to follow. Government securities are zero-risk-weighted under Basel frameworks, with no extra capital buffer required. They are liquid, regularly auctioned, and in Kenya’s case, high-yielding relative to regional peers. When private sector credit demand softens or loan default risks rise, a Treasury bill starts looking like the most sensible trade in the room.

In periods of fiscal expansion, the Exchequer borrows more; banks, flush with deposits, are ready buyers. The market deepens, auction participation stays healthy, and the system hums along. It is, in a sense, a finely tuned machine.

The question the IMF, Fitch, and others are raising is not whether the machine works (it clearly does), but what happens when one of its critical gears starts to wear.

Fitch flagged the issue as far back as 2025, noting that Kenyan banks were structurally inclined toward heavy government securities exposure and were expected to remain so. The IMF has since echoed the concern, framing the exposure as a risk that warrants monitoring, even if it does not yet constitute an emergency.

The underlying risk is what economists call the “sovereign-bank nexus”: the feedback loop where banks hold large quantities of government debt while the government relies on those same banks as its primary buyers. The concern is not default in isolation, but contagion: if sovereign creditworthiness deteriorates, bank balance sheets weaken simultaneously, precisely when stability is most needed.

Kenya’s own Debt Sustainability Analysis (2025) acknowledges that domestic debt is under stress, not at default risk, but requiring careful management. Total government debt stood at Sh13.06 trillion as of June 2026, with Sh7.32 trillion being domestic. Stress, even manageable stress, can shift the calculus quickly.

The Kenya Bankers Association has pointed toward diversification as the sector’s strategic direction, a genuine signal that banks are aware of the concentration. But diversification in banking is rarely a fast pivot. Loan books take time to build, credit infrastructure takes time to develop, and in an environment where government paper remains attractively priced and frictionless, the incentive to stay put competes constantly with the incentive to move on.

For investors, the immediate picture remains benign. Sovereign yields are attractive, default risk is contained, and the banking system is adequately capitalised by most measures. But the medium-term story is more nuanced. A sector this heavily weighted toward one borrower is a sector whose health is increasingly indistinguishable from the health of the sovereign itself.

For those who prefer warnings with receipts attached, Senegal offers a live case study. In 2024, the incoming administration discovered that fiscal deficits had been materially underreported for years, with hidden shortfalls averaging 5.5 percent of GDP annually between 2019 and 2023. True public debt was revised to approximately 100 percent of GDP, and the IMF subsequently placed total public sector debt at 132 percent of GDP by end-2024. Senegal had not suddenly borrowed more. The full picture had simply, finally, been revealed.

The consequences for the banking system were immediate. Senegalese banks, long accustomed to holding government securities as their preferred asset class, found themselves sitting on paper whose creditworthiness was now in question, while simultaneously being called upon to absorb more of it.

Senegal lost access to international capital markets; analysts described protecting the banking sector from sovereign debt restructuring as a “macro-financial imperative to prevent regional contagion.” Restructuring the debt without taking down the banks that held it became a near-impossible needle to thread.

Kenya’s situation differs in important respects: greater transparency, intact international market access, and a debt trajectory that, while strained, remains in a different league. But the structural warning is identical: a banking system that finances the sovereign at this scale has limited ability to act as a shock absorber if the sovereign story shifts. Senegal’s crisis was not inevitable. It was the product of quiet accumulation and deferred honesty.

Kenya’s banks and the Exchequer have built a relationship that works, until it doesn’t. The IMF’s warning is not a forecast of collapse; it is a structural observation. Breaking the loop requires deliberate policy choices: broadening the domestic investor base, growing private credit markets, and bringing the fiscal deficit down to reduce borrowing pressure. These are not quick fixes. But they are the right ones.

Until then, the banks and the government will remain very close friends. Senegal’s banks once thought the same. And the rest of us will be watching closely.

This past week, one of the biggest conversations was the groundbreaking of what is expected to be the biggest-ever oil refinery in East Africa, and its expected impact was unsurprisingly topical too.

For decades, fairly smaller, highly scalable social enterprises have redrawn what healthcare, clean energy, agriculture, and financial inclusion can be. Many more firms are doing exemplary work and delivering impact in various ways.

The capital chasing investment opportunities in the region are growing too. Between 2021 and 2025, East Africa is estimated to have pulled in over Sh531 billion ($4.1 billion) in private capital across nearly 500 deals, according to the Africa Venture Capital Association, with Kenya, Ethiopia and Tanzania leading the way. If philanthropy, bilateral aid, and public funds are added in the computation, the number could get even larger.

The question increasingly is whether and to what degree the capital is working, especially toward achieving a desired social, economic, and environmental impact. Knowing it’s working means more than a filed report and a logo on a donor’s annual review. It means proof that lives are measurably improved. Beneficiary communities and customers are now asking to see for themselves what value has actually been left behind. It calls for a conscious decision to prepare a specialised social impact report.

The social impact report ought to be one of the sharpest tools an organisation has for answering that question. For nonprofits, social enterprises, mission-driven businesses and even public institutions, it is where outcomes get named, and value gets counted. It appears straightforward, yet too often, it hasn’t worked that way. Despite funding flowing into the region, social impact has been treated as a well-meaning byproduct, relegated to the glossy back pages of an annual report, or a line on a donor’s checklist, rather than a discipline in its own right.

That is starting to change, and not a moment too soon. Acumen East Africa’s State of Social Impact Reporting study captures a real convergence where venture and equity investors, philanthropists, and donors are all asking questions about social and economic transformation. So are conscious shareholders, regulators, and public bodies looking for impact measurement models that can support national development goals. It outlines accountability, adequacy, and alignment as the three broad testable fixes, with findings serving as both mirror and roadmap.

If we are serious about impact and its measurement, we have to build in the cost to prove it. Funding measurement validates the logic behind an intervention and guarantees accountability for it, so treat it as a line item, not an afterthought.

An organisation that cannot show its work is asking for trust it hasn’t earned. The infrastructure to properly frame, document, and report impact is what makes the work real. But the fix doesn’t stop at budgets. The study shows that time has come to build a structured, localised framework for social impact measurement.

While global frameworks like the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals and the Global Reporting Initiative are useful starting points, they were not built with our socioeconomic context in mind. The study recommends a regional model, with its own metrics, that would tidy up measurement and reporting, raise data literacy, and give enterprises, public bodies, and investors a shared vocabulary that is grounded in local realities. It calls for contextualising the indicators and centering the communities themselves.

There is an underlying talent question too. The study flagged a lack of professional pathways for impact measurement practitioners as a big resourcing gap. We need formal career tracks, standardized certifications, and institutional training. Essentially, a resilient pool of regional talent who understand both advanced methodology and local context.

The era of good intentions has run its course. What comes next has to be measured, funded, and proven, or it risks becoming just another well-told story.

Businesses added 72,800 kilowatts (kW) of solar energy for their own use in the year ended June 2026, extending a trend in which a growing number of firms are turning to self-generation of electricity to lower their monthly bills and ensure steady supplies of electricity.

The increase pushed self-generation of electricity, technically referred to as captive power, to 676.60MW in the year to June 2026, up from 603.8MW the previous year.

‘This growth reflects continued uptake of distributed renewable energy solutions by commercial and industrial consumers to meet their electricity requirements,’ the Energy and Petroleum Regulatory Authority (Epra) says in its latest review of the energy sector.

Many businesses are increasingly shifting to solar to cut costs and ensure a stable and reliable electricity supply. A growing list of manufacturers, including Bio Food Products, Total Energies Kenya, Maisha Mabati Mills, Simba Cement, Unilever Tea Kenya, British American Tobacco, Africa Logistics Properties, Bidco, Mabati Rolling Mills, Centum Real Estate, and Devyani Food Industries, have shifted to their own solar power generation to cut operational costs and lower emissions.

Beverages company Coca-Cola last year also received regulatory approval to set up solar plants at its plants in Embakasi in Nairobi and Kisumu. The combined capacity of the plants will be 3.98Megawatts (MW).

Fast-moving consumer goods firm Unilever Kenya is the latest firm to join the list of commercial and industrial clients using captive power, with a solar photovoltaic plant that will produce 1,500,000 kilowatt-hours (kWh) annually.

‘We have now completed installing solar at our facility that is generating 1,500 megawatt-hours (MWh) of solar power, and we estimate that it will save us about Sh30 million from our annual power bill,” Luke Ochieng, the Managing Director at Unilever East Africa, said.

Migration of these companies to solar power could, in the long run, impact Kenya Power, given that industries and firms are the biggest source of revenue to the electricity distributor. For instance, revenue from electricity sales to new Kenya Power customers dropped by Sh1.07 billion in the year to June 2026 despite increased connections, an indication of slowing economic expansion and increased adoption of off-grid solar alternatives.

Official data shows that Kenya Power’s new customers consumed 161.7 Gigawatt-hours (GWh) in the year to June, marking a 20 percent drop from 202.98 GWh a year ago, pulling down revenues from this customer segment to Sh4.05 billion from Sh5.12billion in the previous period, or a 26.41percent drop. The dip in unit sales and revenues came despite Kenya Power connecting 412,249 new customers in the 12 months to June 2026, up from 401,848 the previous year, with more than half of them, or 226,803, being commercial customers.