The silence of an electric motorbike is a strange thing to experience on a red murram road deep in the village. There is no growl of an engine, no puff of black smoke scattering chickens, just the low hum of a motor and the crunch of tires on stone. When I first rode one in rural Kenya, the thing that struck me wasn't the technology—it was the economics. The young man who owned it wasn't an environmental activist. He was a boda boda rider who had simply calculated that spending KSh 275 on a full charge was better than spending KSh 400 on fuel that wouldn't even take him half the distance . He wasn't trying to save the planet; he was trying to save his livelihood.
This is the conversation we should be having about fossil fuel dependence in Kenya. Not an abstract debate about global climate agreements, but a brutally honest look at our national priorities. Every shilling we spend importing petroleum is a shilling not spent on our own energy infrastructure—and the data paints a picture of a country bleeding money on imports while sitting on enormous, underdeveloped energy potential.
The True Cost of the Fuel Habit
Kenya's dependence on imported fossil fuels isn't just an environmental problem; it's a structural economic drain. When international conflicts flare up—as we're seeing now—our transport and energy sectors don't just feel a pinch; they go into crisis because we have no buffer . We are price-takers in a volatile global market because we produce almost no oil ourselves.
The government's own accounting reveals how deep this goes. State expenditure on transport costs has nearly doubled in recent years, rising from KSh 8.6 billion in 2020/21 to KSh 14.3 billion in 2022/23, driven primarily by fuel, lubricants, and vehicle maintenance . Consider what that KSh 14.3 billion represents. Each year, the government alone spends enough on fuel and vehicle operations to build a significant power plant. The Treasury's own analysis shows that a single internal combustion engine vehicle consumes about 15 litres of fuel daily at a monthly cost of at least KSh 90,000, while an electric vehicle equivalent costs about KSh 15,400 per month to charge—saving nearly KSh 900,000 per vehicle annually in fuel alone .
Multiply that across the national fleet. Multiply that across all the boda bodas. Multiply that across every bus, truck, and private car stuck in Nairobi traffic burning imported fuel going nowhere. The money leaving our economy is staggering.
What We're Sitting On: The Unexploited Alternative
Here is where the argument for misplaced priorities becomes undeniable. Kenya's grid already draws over 80% of its electricity from renewable sources . This is genuinely impressive by global standards. But we've barely scratched the surface of what's available.
Take hydropower. Our current installed large hydro capacity stands at about 826 MW, accounting for roughly 24% of electricity output . But the potential for small hydro alone is estimated at 3,000 MW—and less than 30 MW of that has been developed . Let that sink in. We have tapped barely 1% of our small hydro potential. Sites like Mutonga (60 MW) and Lower Grand Falls (140 MW) have been identified, studied, and deemed viable—yet they remain undeveloped despite years of planning . Meanwhile, the High Grand Falls Dam project, which would add 500-700 MW of hydropower capacity while supporting irrigation across 400,000 hectares, represents a USD 1.2 billion investment that could transform eastern Kenya's water and power security simultaneously .
Solar tells a similar story but with even more dramatic momentum. Installed solar PV capacity reached 514 MW by mid-2025, with total solar installations hitting 1.42 GW when including off-grid systems . The national target of 807 MW by 2030 is significant, but the real revolution is in distributed energy. Nearly half of solar capacity serves as self-generation for commercial and industrial users driven by a simple calculation: grid electricity costs an average of KSh 1.7 per unit, making solar increasingly competitive . The World Bank-backed Kenya Off-Grid Solar Access Project is building 151 mini-grids to reach 277,000 households . KOSAP and other initiatives are bringing power to areas the grid has never reached.
When KenGen's CEO says hydropower is the "cheapest and most established" power source but also the "most vulnerable to climate change," he's making a case for diversification . But this isn't an argument against hydro and solar. It's an argument for building them out intelligently—combining hydro's baseload stability with solar's distributed reach, backed by battery storage systems already being deployed at sites like the Seven Forks solar plant .
Electric Mobility Is Already Happening—And Saving Real Money
The transition to electric vehicles isn't a distant dream. Kenya had 24,754 registered EVs by 2025, up from just 796 in 2022—a thirty-fold increase in three years . Most of these are electric motorcycles, the backbone of our transport sector. The government's recent order for 600 EVs alongside 70 fast chargers marks the single largest public-sector EV procurement in our history .
The riders who've already switched in Kericho, Kiambu, and elsewhere aren't doing it for climate virtue signaling. Bernard Tonui in Kericho now covers 100 km on a charge that costs KSh 275, compared to his old petrol bike that consumed KSh 400 for just half that distance . Alfred Makori saw his daily earnings nearly double, from KSh 700 to KSh 1,200, purely because his operating costs plummeted . In Kiambu, Andrew Gathoni reports spending KSh 300 on charging versus over KSh 500 on petrol, with the added advantage of a dual-battery system that eliminates downtime .
The government's own projections show sales of electric vehicles could match fossil-fuel vehicles by 2042 . This transition will create a KSh 89.8 billion (USD 693 million) gap in fuel tax revenue by 2043 . That's a problem, yes—but it's a good problem to have. It means we'll need road-user charging systems or electricity-based levies. These are solvable policy questions, not reasons to delay.
The Leadership Deficit
This brings me to the uncomfortable part. The government has launched a National Electric Mobility Policy, offered tax breaks on EV parts and charging infrastructure, and set a target of 3,000 EVs for ministries by 2027 . These are positive steps. But policy documents don't change culture. Leadership does.
When government officials—the same ones who lecture citizens about high fuel costs—are still being driven in large-engine fuel guzzlers, the message is clear: the rules apply to you, not to us. The Treasury's leasing program is ordering 600 EVs, which is commendable, but alongside 2,423 fossil-fuel vehicles . Why not 100% electric for the new procurement? The technology exists. The savings are documented. The charging infrastructure is being built. The only missing ingredient is political will.
The boda boda rider in Kericho switching to electric didn't wait for a government directive. He looked at his expenses, did the math, and acted. The country needs to do the same—but at scale. Kenya spends billions annually importing fuel that we then burn and can never recover. That same money, redirected even partially toward developing our 3,000 MW of small hydro potential, completing the High Grand Falls Dam, expanding solar mini-grids, and electrifying our vehicle fleet, would create jobs, stabilize energy costs, and keep shillings circulating in our own economy.
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### A Question of Priority
The high cost of fuel isn't just a consequence of international conflicts we can't control. It's a symptom of choices we've made—and continue to make—about where we put our national resources. We import dependency while sitting on abundance. This isn't just an energy policy failure; it's a fundamental misreading of what matters.
Kenya has the renewable resources to power itself completely. We have the solar irradiation, the river systems, the geothermal fields, and increasingly, the local expertise. What we've lacked is the collective will to treat energy independence as the national priority it should be. The boda boda rider in the village has figured it out. It's time the people making decisions in Nairobi did the same—and showed us they meant it.
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