By Isaac Dan Onyancha
The 2025/26 national budget proposal, amounting to KSh 3.385 trillion, has arrived with much fanfare from the State—but with growing anxiety from the public.
For many Kenyans, the numbers may be big, but the hope is faint. The document, symbolic in its ambition, feels more like a reminder of the widening gap between the governed and those who govern.
We have seen this story before. Just last year, Kenyans—especially the youth—rose in protest against the Finance Bill 2024, rejecting the painful taxation proposals that threatened their very survival.
The Gen Z-led movement shook the nation. It reminded the government that citizens are no longer passive recipients of economic policy. That moment was not driven by political party machinery, but by lived reality. It was a revolt against systemic economic exclusion, a cry from classrooms, informal settlements, markets, and matatu stages.
And now, in what feels like a replay, the 2025 budget has been unveiled with rhetoric promising development, but policies weighted heavily on taxation.
Once again, the burden has been placed on ordinary Kenyans—those whose only crime is wanting a fair shot at life. Fuel, bread, transport, airtime—everything that defines daily existence—will feel the impact.
Meanwhile, job creation remains an elusive promise, and public services continue to deteriorate.
It is worth reflecting on what appears to be a calculated political move in the appointment of Hon. John Mbadi, a respected opposition figure, to a key Cabinet role.
Some interpret this as an effort to co-opt dissent, a strategy to weaken the moral and political ground on which opposition to government policy often stands.
But let us be honest with ourselves: the public no longer protests because of who is in office—they protest because of how they live. The high cost of living has no party. It harasses the boda rider in Magwagwa just as it frustrates the mama mboga in Mtwapa or the tea picker in Kericho.
The real danger is not in political appointments—it is in ignoring the warning signs. When the public is overburdened and under-consulted, when policies are pushed without participatory engagement, when institutions fail to insulate citizens from harsh economic shocks, then the contract between government and people begins to fray.
It is time we reimagine our national budget not just as a statement of figures but as a moral contract. A national budget should reflect care, not control. It should invest in the growth of the people, not merely in the survival of a regime.
It should prioritize access to quality healthcare, education, youth employment, and agricultural support—especially for counties like Nyamira where subsistence farming remains the backbone of the local economy.
Parliament has a duty—more sacred now than ever before—to rise above party lines and interrogate this budget in the spirit of service. To scrutinize not just the numbers, but the priorities. Is this budget people-centred? Does it respond to the voice of the common mwananchi?
As citizens, we too must not retreat into silence. Civic duty does not end at the ballot. It lives in our ability to question, to participate, to organize peacefully, and to demand accountability at every level. Our democracy is not complete until the people actively shape the policies that shape their lives.
Let it be known: when the budget betrays the people, the people have a right to rise—not with stones, but with voices. Not with violence, but with truth. Let us remain awake, engaged, and unafraid.
This country belongs to its citizens, and its future will be defined not by what is passed in Parliament—but by what is resisted, demanded, and dreamt in the hearts of its people.
-Bw’Onyancha is a Governance and Leadership expert and commentator as well as Director in charge of Civic Education and Public Participation in Nyamira County Government