The High Court has pronounced itself clearly on unlawful public appointments and the heavy burden on Kenyan taxpayers. The costs are in salaries, allowances and even compensation awarded to individuals after botched public appointments.
There have been disturbing reports of illegal and irregular appointments across public institutions. Boards are stacked with cronies, duplicated offices created to reward loyalty and inflated remuneration packages quietly approved at the expense of the taxpayer.
What often gets lost in the outrage and confusion is the real price of these decisions — paid not in abstract billions, but in classrooms that were never built and learners who remain stranded at home. Conservatively, illegal appointments and their attendant perks have cost Kenyans about Sh2.4 billion in less than five years.
That figure is modest when weighed against multiple audit queries and court rulings that have repeatedly nullified unlawful appointments. But what does Sh2.4 billion actually mean for a country struggling to keep children in school?
At the current secondary school capitation of Sh22,244 per learner per year, that money could have educated about 107,880 secondary school students for a year.
That is nearly half a million teenagers — enough to clear congestion in day secondary schools across several counties, or absorb thousands of learners still at home due to lack of fees.
At the primary school level, where the annual allocation averages Sh1,500 per pupil, the Sh2.4 billion would support approximately 1.6 million children in primary schools. That is more than half of Kenya’s entire primary school population.
At a time when parents have to dig deeper for “top-ups” and when some schools are sending pupils home for lack of funds, this is a moral indictment of public leadership.
Infrastructure tells a starker story. With the average cost of constructing and equipping a standard classroom standing at Sh950,000, Sh2.4 billion would put up over 2,520 new classrooms. That is enough to decongest overcrowded schools, implement junior secondary properly, and eliminate the shameful sight of learners studying under trees or squeezed three to a desk.
Instead, this money has been consumed by boardroom excesses, legal battles to defend the indefensible, and golden handshakes for appointments that courts later declare null and void. Worse still, accountability is rare. Few officials refund the public. Fewer still face personal consequences.
As schools buckle under inadequate funding, Kenyans must ask: who benefits from illegal appointments, and who pays the price? The answer is painfully clear.
Until public officers are held personally liable for illegal decisions — including surcharging those who make and benefit from them — Kenya will continue to rob its children’s future to fund elite impunity. And no nation can educate its way out of poverty while stealing from its classrooms.
