Skip to main content

One Million! One Million!… and Now an Investment Bank for the Youth!

East Africa is still buzzing with football fever. Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania are co-hosting the African Championship, and the region’s leaders have been opening their wallets like they just discovered a treasure chest. In Kenya, the Harambee Stars bagged KSh 2.5 million each — that’s 42 players and staff members now walking around with a little extra spring in their step (and maybe new cars in their dreams). Uganda Cranes and Tanzania’s national team? Equally showered with promises worth billions.

The stadiums are roaring, fans are chanting “One Million! One Million! One Million!” and somewhere, a national accountant is wondering whether to clap or cry.

But just as I was finishing this blog, the Kenyan President added another twist to the plot — the creation of a Youth Enterprise Investment Bank, backed by a whopping KSh 9.65 billion, supposedly ready before the end of the year. The goal? To boost youth enterprise development. On paper, this is commendable — after all, who wouldn’t want a government that actually invests in young people’s ideas? It sounds like the dream: access to capital, business growth, prosperity… and maybe fewer memes about “hustling” with zero start-up cash.

However — and here’s where history taps us on the shoulder — we’ve been down this road before. Remember the Youth Enterprise Fund? The Hustler Fund? Countless other “affirmative action” initiatives? Many began with fireworks and ended in smoke. The problem isn’t just poor design — it’s a system that often feels captured by an oligarch-like network, enabled by a debt and guarantee framework that favors only the visible, politically connected youth. The rest? They get motivational speeches and training manuals with “success stories” from people they’ve never met.

The danger is that the Youth Enterprise Investment Bank could follow the same script — a big launch, glowing headlines, high-profile beneficiaries… and then, a few years later, a quiet audit revealing billions lost to bad debt, questionable guarantees, and loans that were more about connections than capacity.

If we want this bank to be different, it must be built on transparency, fairness, and accessibility — not as another elite ATM. Let’s ensure that it funds the grassroots innovator, the rural agripreneur, the community-based social enterprise — not just the already-privileged with a cousin in the right ministry.

Until then, we can keep chanting “One Million! One Million! One Million!” in the stadiums. But for the youth on the sidelines of opportunity, the real chant might be: “One Chance! One Chance! One Chance!”

About Author: Kevin Makova

Comments

Good thoughts there. Always great ideas with evil motives, anding up in wrong hands. I wosh they give a private farm like Pricewaterhousecoopers, Delloite or KCB to run it.

Popular posts from this blog

When Good Intentions Fall Short: Reflections on Climate Resilience Projects in Vihiga

This week has been a whirlwind in Vihiga County. The Governor has been on the move, launching project after project—each meant to signal progress, resilience, and commitment to improving the lives of residents. On the surface, it feels like the county is on a steady path toward climate resilience and development. Bridges, irrigation schemes, and water projects are being unveiled with great promise. Take the Mutave–Jepses bridge in Hamisi, for instance. For years, residents have endured untold suffering trying to cross this dangerous spot that links Tambua Ward to Kisumu and Nandi Counties. Many lives have been lost there. Redeveloping it is a commendable step forward, yet questions linger. The cost—12 million shillings—has sparked debate, especially given that the structure resembles more of a box-culvert than a durable bridge with strong guard rails. Was it truly value for money, or another example of cutting corners where safety should be paramount? Credits: County Government of Vih...

Devolution Con: Vihiga Edition

The advent of devolution in Kenya strangely coincided with my university education. As a student at Masinde Muliro University in Kakamega County, I watched with wide-eyed curiosity as the new county governments grappled with their newfound power. In Kakamega, even the smallest development—like turning ghetto paths into proper roads or building mama mboga stalls—felt like a hopeful step forward. Meanwhile, back home in Vihiga County, my feelings were the exact opposite. The leadership seemed obsessed with short-term spectacles and quick photo opportunities, not a long-term vision. I sneered at the first county governor’s approach, dismissing it as directionless. Sadly, hindsight has proven me right—and then some. Photo Credits: The Standard Two terms and billions later, the story is depressingly familiar. Vihiga boasts of “stadiums” like Kidundu, Hamisi, and Mumboha—monuments not to sports, but to mediocrity. Millions were sunk into these facilities, only for them to resemble cattle m...

No Opportunities? Or just lazy, entitled Youth...

Yesterday, I rode a bicycle for over 25 kilometers . Not on some fancy cycling trail or in a city marathon, but through the rugged countryside, under a sky that seemed determined to drown me. The heavens opened wide, the rain poured, and within minutes, I was soaked to the bone. Mud splashed with every turn of the wheel, my legs burned, and every car that passed left me looking more like a stray dog than a man with purpose. Why endure all this? Because I was headed to meet a group of talented young people —people I have worked with for months, helping them shape ideas around technology and the lot into real enterprises. It was their meeting. They set it up. They picked the time. They picked the place. I showed up, dripping wet, hungry, exhausted… and alone (mostly). No calls. No messages. No apologies. Just silence. And yet, when the dust—or rather mud—settles, these are the same young people who will look at society and claim, “There are no opportunities for us.” The Myth of Limit...