Friends of River Ezava-Forezava

When I first heard the President announce the lifting of the ban on lumbering within the Mau — a forest system that communities and rivers depend on — my stomach dropped. I am a young environmentalist who grew up close enough to a forest to know what the loss of a single mature tree can do to soil, springs and local livelihoods. In Vihiga and the Maragoli Hills we have watched degraded patches that were once living water-tanks turn brittle and thin after waves of extraction. I say this not as a partisan critic but as someone who has seen, up close, how short-term economic wins can become long-term ecological and social losses. A few realities must sit at the centre of any sober debate about reopening forest harvesting. First: Kenya is running a national push to plant 15 billion trees over the next decade — a headline ambition that has mobilised private groups, civil society and communities across the country. That commitment means nothing if it coexists with policies that make it easie...

By Kevin Makova | Forezava Voices – Vihiga Edition It’s funny how we love to complain — about high prices, lack of jobs, bad roads, corruption, and the never-ending drama in politics — yet when it’s time to do the one simple thing that could change it all, we stay home. The Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission (IEBC) recently opened continuous voter registration, but truth be told, turnout has been low. The same youth who dominate every protest, meme, and WhatsApp group debate about leadership are the same ones missing in the voter lists. We keep saying “Kenya needs change!” But how, if we refuse to touch the very tool that gives us power — the ballot? A Conversation That Hit Home During one of my usual morning walks in the village, I stopped to chat with a young neighbor — bright, opinionated, and full of life. But when I asked if she had registered to vote, her answer shocked me. “What for?” she said. “Voting doesn’t help anyone. It just makes politicians richer.”...

MTAJAM BUT MTADO? Every October, a quiet kind of exhaustion seems to settle over people. The year is winding down, the weather is shifting, and suddenly there’s a collective sense of retreat. Targets begin to fade into the background, plans are postponed, and the comforting mantra, “I’ll start afresh in January,” takes over. It’s an almost cultural phenomenon — a seasonal surrender disguised as reflection. In truth, it is one of the most dangerous mindsets to entertain, particularly among young people navigating the demanding transitions of study, work, and personal ambition. The tragedy is not that people are tired; it’s that they mistake fatigue for finality. The Academic Drift Across campuses, many students are in the final stretch — one last paper to defend, one more proposal to refine, or a research project awaiting completion. Yet October arrives, and suddenly, the momentum stalls. A demanding lecturer, the fatigue of continuous deadlines, or the disappointment of earlier setbac...