From handouts to chaos: The return of cash politics in 2027 election campaign trail

The season of cash freebies is back as politicians return to the culture of handouts to rally support from voters as early election fever begins to grip the country, with troubling consequences.

Cash handouts are once again shaping Kenya’s political landscape as aspirants quietly inject millions of shillings into communities. This has raised concern among residents and governance experts over the integrity of campaigns ahead of the 2027 General Election.

While some politicians are discreet about the practice, others openly boast about it. President William Ruto has also been seen leading from the front in distributing handouts during rallies, a trend that has increasingly become part of the political playbook in the race for popularity.

Across several counties, politicians have intensified grassroots tours marked not only by speeches but also by the distribution of money to individuals and groups, a practice now deeply entrenched in the country’s electoral culture.

However, the trend has left many residents with painful memories. Some are still grappling with trauma from chaotic scrambles for cash, where others have suffered injuries, including some that were life-threatening.

During President Ruto’s visit to Gusii last week, a 100-year-old man was trampled to death in a crowd scrambling for Sh200 handouts reportedly distributed by allies of the Head of State.

Witnesses said the elderly man, identified as Ombui Orandi, whose home is in Buyonge about three kilometres away, was among hundreds who had gathered at Egetuki in Bomachoge Chache, Kisii County. The President addressed the crowd and promised them his “greetings.”

Besides the deceased, four other people, including a seven-year-old schoolboy, were seriously injured in the stampede triggered by the scramble for the cash.

Despite the incident, politicians in the region have since returned to their normal routines as they prepare to distribute more handouts to residents.

Interviews with residents, leaders and local mobilisers indicate that cash distribution is often intentionally chaotic, with some individuals allegedly exploiting the disorder to pocket a larger share of the funds.

“Cash handouts have been normalised, and politicians must part with money if they want anyone to listen to them,” said Musa Abdalla, a Kisii resident.

Obligation to share

Dishing out handouts has become a familiar feature of political rallies, funerals, barazas and even church gatherings, where aspirants and elected leaders often converge.

A recent viral video of Nyaribari Chache MP Zaheer Jhanda handing out Sh1,000 notes to women from his constituency further illustrated how deeply entrenched the practice has become in voter engagement.

In some instances, critics say, the practice has taken a political turn, with claims that government-aligned leaders use such events to discredit opponents by portraying them as unwilling to give money during public meetings.

Majority Whip Sylvanus Osoro has repeatedly defended the practice, often telling public gatherings that elected leaders have an obligation to give handouts to wananchi, framing it as a measure of leadership quality and electability.

“If you go to the people to address them and yet you don’t want to give them any small amount of money, then you are not fit to be elected. Wananchi should be keen when choosing such leaders who keep snakes in their pockets (a symbolic language for those who are afraid of dipping into their pockets to give handouts),” Osoro has said on several occasions.

Similarly, Lang’ata MP Phelix Odiwuor, popularly known as Jalang’o, said last week while addressing a gathering of boda boda operators that politicians have an obligation to share money with supporters.

So common is the culture that in Gusii, residents have nicknamed it Ogoserwa, a metaphorical term meaning “milling.”

In Nyanza, the absence of the late ODM leader Raila Odinga, whose presence often assured his allies of electoral victories, has shifted the political landscape, with his political “orphans” now struggling to secure a firm footing.

Across the region, nearly all politicians have intensified mobilisation drives and handout campaigns as they seek political direction ahead of next year’s polls. Residents say payouts range between Sh200 and Sh1,000, while hired crowds and cheering squads reportedly receive up to Sh3,000.

Although classified as voter bribery, enforcement of the law remains weak, with some of the same leaders expected to shape public opinion on the issue often accused of being key perpetrators.

Corruption enabler

Former Interior Principal Secretary Dr Karanja Kibicho has warned that the growing culture of political handouts is a major driver of corruption in the public sector, cautioning that Kenya risks deepening the vice if it is not urgently addressed.

He argues that the practice normalises untraceable cash flows during campaigns, which later find their way into governance decisions.

“Wananchi just received free money from politicians, and yet they cannot ask the source of it. The huge amounts of money politicians spend on handouts must be recovered after they are elected. But how, if not through high-level corruption, to recoup their money?” Kibicho posed, raising concern over the long-term cost of vote buying.

Residents in various counties echo these concerns, saying the culture is weakening public demand for accountability and development delivery.

Davin Kwamboka, a resident of Nyaribari Chache Constituency, said voters are increasingly distracted by immediate cash incentives instead of pressing leaders on stalled or incomplete projects.

“People don’t have time to think about what their MP has not done for them as long as he is giving them some money. What is ironic is that the same money may be intended for development,” Kwamboka said, pointing to a cycle that undermines public oversight.

In Kitutu Masaba, voter Richard Maengwe noted that essential services are often used as bargaining chips during campaigns, making it harder to resist handouts despite their long-term consequences.

“People need hospitals, schools and roads. But leaders are clever; they give them what they need at the moment, however small it may be. That is why it will be very difficult to ban handouts totally,” he said.

Political analyst Dismas Mokua says the practice entrenches political inequality by rewarding financial muscle over competence, integrity, and policy ideas. He warns that it also opens the door for cartels and moneyed interests to influence electoral outcomes.

“The culture of handouts rewards pecuniary advantage and sidelines citizen-centred policymaking and execution because handout architects know that the only performance indicator is the capacity to give handouts,” Mokua said.

Across several counties in Western Kenya, the trend has become deeply embedded, with residents often seen queuing for cash even at funerals and community gatherings.

Studies on campaign financing suggest that handouts can consume up to 40 per cent of total campaign costs in parliamentary races.

Analysts estimate that serious aspirants may spend between Sh20 million and Sh100 million during election periods, with a significant portion directed to voters in cash or material incentives.

A parliamentary aspirant, Fredrick Watitwa, said the pressure is intense and unavoidable in modern campaigns.

“You cannot run a campaign without money. Every meeting, every visit, people expect something. If you don’t give, they lose interest immediately,” he said.

At the grassroots level, reactions remain mixed. Some residents acknowledge the short-term relief cash provides amid economic hardship, even as they question its long-term impact on governance.

In Busia, boda boda rider Kevin Odhiambo said the practice has become routine but does not always determine voting choices.

Political analysts argue that this reflects a widening gap between immediate voter needs and broader governance expectations, with elections increasingly driven by transactions rather than policy debate.

William Onyonje notes that poverty has made voters view politicians as providers rather than policymakers, reinforcing a cycle where cash determines support.

He warns that this trend raises campaign costs and excludes capable leaders without financial power, especially young people and women.

Reports by Stanley Ongwae, Mary Imenza and Harold Odhiambo