Festive handouts and cost of transactional politics

Deputy President Kithure Kindiki distributing Christmas handouts to Irunduni residents in Tharaka Nithi County. [DPCS]

I first heard the word "kugonyo" outside City Hall while walking with a friend. A large crowd had gathered, standing patiently as if waiting for something, and I soon learned they were expecting handouts from senior county officials clocking out from their offices.

My friend was shocked that I had never heard the word, but in the village, we called it "kuchua pakee," (to pick a package). This act of receiving gifts may seem harmless, yet it exposes a deeper reality. In Kenya, political loyalty and survival often intersect in the ritual of handouts, a practice so normalised that it has its own vocabulary.

On a scorching December morning this festive season, a Cabinet Secretary stepped out of a government vehicle, packets of maize flour in hand, cheered by crowds. Envelopes of cash were handed out alongside promises of development projects. While defenders argue these gestures are acts of compassion, questions remain. Is it the officials' personal money or public funds? If it is government money, how was it budgeted, and why is it being used this way instead of through formal social welfare programmes?

Imagine people queuing for hours for a single packet of maize flour. The indignity is impossible to ignore. I have seen similar handouts during recent by-elections, and I cannot help but wonder if this is a sign of what to expect in 2027. CSs have posted these handouts on social media, framing long queues as evidence of popularity.

These festive handouts reflect a broader political pattern known as clientelism, where leaders provide material support in exchange for loyalty. Poverty, weak institutions, and personalisation of politics make such exchanges rational for officials and citizens, perpetuating a cycle in which democracy is measured less by policies than by who gives more. According to TIFA research released on 23 December 2025, nearly half of Kenyans who attended at least one political rally since the last election reported receiving some form of reward. The survey asked whether attendees received a "thank-you" or gift, including transport, tea or food, pocket money, or compensation for the time spent attending.

Among those who received something, two-thirds received cash only, while 17 per cent received both cash and food. For cash recipients, about half were given Sh101 to 500, nearly a quarter Sh501 to 1,000, and roughly one in five received larger amounts. Opponents or undecided respondents reported receiving incentives slightly more often than broad based government supporters, suggesting strategic targeting.

For many households, these handouts provide temporary relief in moments of genuine need. It would be unfair to dismiss recipients as naive or morally compromised. Poverty constrains choice, and survival often takes precedence over abstract political ideals.

Nearly one-third of Kenyans cannot meet the basic food poverty threshold, 46 per cent live below the national poverty line, and over 1.5 million are chronically food-insecure. Children are especially vulnerable, with more than half experiencing multiple deprivations. Yet formal social protection remains limited, with cash transfer programs reaching only about 1.2 million households, and government spending just 0.29 per cent of GDP.

The ethical problem lies not with recipients but with the political culture that normalises transactional politics. When generosity is strategically timed around elections or festive periods, selectively targeted, and publicly branded with senior officials' identities, it ceases to be humanitarian assistance. It becomes clientelism, where loyalty is exchanged for material benefit.

The indignity is compounded when viewed through the Constitution. Article 28 guarantees inherent dignity, while Article 43 guarantees the right to food, social security, healthcare and education.

Ultimately, true leadership is measured not by how many hands are fed during the festive season but by how many systems are built to ensure no hand ever goes empty.

The writer comments on topical issues