Ruto’s Theater of Corruption: Preaching Water While Guzzling Wine

In Kenya today, state capture is no longer a whispered secret. It is an orchestrated dance of power, where politicians sing loudly about the evils of corruption while quietly orchestrating its very survival. The Ruto administration is the perfect embodiment of the Swahili proverb, “Mkuki kwa nguruwe, kwa binadamu mchungu”—a spear is a thorn to a human but a mere straw to a pig. When it comes to matters of law and state capture, what is illegal for the citizens is merely a matter of convenience for the government.

From the lofty pulpits of the presidential palace, Ruto has made grand promises of fighting graft and reclaiming the country’s resources. Yet, like the famous Maasai elder who promises rain yet prays for drought in the shadows, the reality is starkly different. Under his administration, privatization has become a tool not for progress, but for personal gain. Public institutions, once owned by the people, have quietly shifted into the hands of the politically connected, with no accountability in sight. It’s as though the very constitution—Article 201(b) on public finance principles—was rewritten in invisible ink.

As the Kikuyu says, “When a hyena wants to eat its young ones, it first accuses them of smelling like goats.” Ruto’s government accuses past regimes of mismanagement, yet has perfected the art of timed tenders. Tenders are no longer instruments of service delivery; they are bankable 40-year wealth generators for the political elite. Government contracts are now akin to inheritable assets, designed to ensure that even after they leave office, the gravy train continues to deliver. A clear violation of the Public Procurement and Asset Disposal Act that demands transparency and fair competition.

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Ruto is the king of contradictions, a man who claims to be dismantling regulatory capture but has instead entrenched it. We have watched the Kenya Revenue Authority (KRA) and health sector regulatory bodies bow to the whims of private interests and political heavyweights. Article 73 of our constitution speaks clearly about leadership and integrity, but it seems to be a bedtime story reserved only for the common mwananchi, while the political class rewrites their own rules.

In a land where the truth is often more bitter than neem leaves, it is evident that the administration has also captured the media. Ruto’s officers have bought influence in the media, ensuring that only those channels singing his praises receive favorable licenses. It is no wonder that the average Kenyan is spoon-fed narratives of government success while the rot in state institutions spreads unchecked. A blatant violation of Article 34, which guarantees media freedom, but why would the hyena care about the cries of the goat it has cornered?

The government’s tactics have evolved. No longer is blackmail simply an underhanded tool—it is a celebrated strategy. Top officials dangle the carrot of political survival over lawmakers’ heads, threatening exile to the cold benches of irrelevance if they do not toe the line. “Ukitaka kula nguruwe, chagua aliyenona”—if you want to eat pork, choose the fattest pig. In this case, lawmakers have become the pigs, fattened by promises of lucrative tenders and political protection, while the citizens are left scavenging for scraps.

One must ask, how does the man who shouts the loudest about corruption reforms fail to see the rot beneath his very nose? Article 10 of the constitution outlines our national values, including good governance and accountability. Yet, it appears that Ruto’s administration believes these values are simply decorative phrases to be trotted out during international conferences and swiftly forgotten when back in the safety of Kenyan soil.

The Public Finance Management Act has been turned into an amusing anecdote, a law that applies only when it doesn’t inconvenience the top brass. The recent revelations of state funds being siphoned off under the guise of development projects should have led to heads rolling. But instead, we are told, “These things take time.” As the Kamba proverb warns, “Patience in times of hunger brings only more hunger.”

In the fight against corruption, Ruto is nothing more than a wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing. His government conveniently ignores the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission’s (EACC) recommendations, while at the same time passing laws that shield key allies from scrutiny. Article 79 of the constitution establishes the EACC, but under this administration, it has become more of a watchdog that barks but rarely bites.

Now, they’ve taken to privatizing state assets under the guise of efficiency and growth. What they don’t tell us is that they are selling these assets to shell companies that lead right back to the political class. One can only laugh bitterly, recalling the ancient saying, “The pot that is watched never boils.” Kenyans watch, but nothing changes, and the pot remains cold.

Ruto’s government is quick to label anyone who questions their misdeeds as a traitor, a person who does not love their country. But those of us who love Kenya know that true patriotism means demanding better. True patriotism means calling out the leadership for what they are: wolves clothed in the garments of reformers. As the Gikuyu proverb wisely states, “A fool is never afraid of misfortune until it has befallen him.” The Kenyan people must not be the fools in this tale.

The Privatization Act of 2005 demands that the government exercise transparency when offloading public assets. Yet, under this administration, privatization has become an avenue to reward political allies. It is a clear violation, and one wonders why the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission isn’t raising the alarm. Perhaps it is because the fox has been left to guard the henhouse.

The truth is this: Ruto’s administration is playing a dangerous game, one where laws are bent and broken at will. The Anti-Corruption and Economic Crimes Act was designed to protect Kenyans from such blatant theft, but it now gathers dust in the archives of forgotten legislation.

We are living in a country where those meant to uphold the law are the very ones breaking it. The new methods of state capture are not the sins of the past—they are the sins of today. The ancient saying, “He who plants thorns must never expect to gather flowers,” rings truer now than ever. For every law they break, for every tender they steal, the government plants more thorns in the path of progress.

It’s high time Kenyans realize that their leaders are not leading them to a brighter future but to the slaughterhouse. And like the wise elders warn, “The dog that has seen its owner chase away others will one day be chased away too.”

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