By Stephen N. Kinuthia “Wamother”
Nairobi, January 10, 2026
Kenya proudly calls itself a God-fearing nation. Across every village, town, and city, Kenyans profess allegiance to one faith or another. Yet in recent years, we have witnessed an explosive proliferation of churches, many sprouting overnight like mushrooms after rain. Behind these new sanctuaries stand individuals with murky pasts, including convicted criminals who, upon release, rebrand themselves as “born-again” preachers. But one must ask, what exactly are they preaching?
A disturbing trend has taken root. Houses of worship, once sacred spaces of reflection, repentance, and renewal, have been transformed into lucrative enterprises. Churches have become commercial ventures designed to enrich individuals who cloak themselves in religious garments, albs, chasubles, cassocks, soutanes, dalmatics, sticharia, kanduras, kanzus, taqiyahs, abayas, jilbabs, and every other vestment imaginable. These garments, once symbols of humility and service, are now tools of deception used to defraud unsuspecting believers.
Politicians, opportunists, and seasoned crooks have discovered the power of the pulpit. They weaponize the Bible and the Qur’an to manipulate the masses. Altars once revered as holy ground have been converted into platforms for money laundering, political theatre, and tribal incitement. Every Sunday, we witness endless fundraising ceremonies, with politicians trooping to the altar not to worship, but to spew insults, lies, and divisive rhetoric. They quote carefully selected verses to sanitize their corruption, while the so-called men and women of the cloth stand eagerly by, ready to share in the proceeds of stolen public funds.
Some will undoubtedly accuse me, “Wamother,” of attacking the Church and its clergy. But as a believer, and as a former Catholic altar boy who once aspired to the priesthood, I refuse to remain silent. I will continue to speak truth to power, even when it unsettles those who have grown comfortable in hypocrisy.
In my forthcoming book, Defenders From Afar!, I write, “In a world quick to misinterpret sincerity, it is sometimes considered unfashionable, even suspect, to acknowledge pride in oneself. Too often, such honesty is dismissed as arrogance or self-interest. Yet I speak without apology. I am proud of the person I have become. My pride is not rooted in vanity, but in the unwavering integrity that has guided my path. I have never betrayed my principles, nor abandoned the values that define my character.”
This integrity compels me to ask, when did religion become a money-making enterprise? We know, without doubt, that much of the money politicians parade in churches is stolen, diverted from education, healthcare, infrastructure, agriculture, and other essential public services. Yet we continue to accept it. Worse still, we elevate these individuals to the status of demi-gods.
The recent debate sparked by former Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua’s remarks, “Kila mtu asomee kwao,” opened a Pandora’s box. Instead of engaging with the substance of his argument, some leaders from North Eastern Kenya rushed to frame it as an attack on the Somali community. This misses the point entirely. Every county and every constituency in Kenya receives substantial national allocations, NCDF funds, bursaries, road infrastructure budgets, and other development resources amounting to billions of shillings. These funds are distributed equitably across the country.
Yet in many regions, particularly within the ASAL counties that also benefit from the Equalization Fund, leaders have chosen a path of personal enrichment over public service. Instead of investing in schools, hospitals, water systems, and roads, they quietly divert these resources into private accounts and luxury lifestyles. The loud outrage we hear today is not rooted in genuine claims of discrimination. It is a calculated smokescreen designed to distract the public from decades of theft, mismanagement, and deliberate underdevelopment.
Leaders who should be champions of their communities have instead become architects of poverty, living in opulence while their constituents survive on humanitarian aid, relief food, and hope. It is shameful that vast regions of Kenya still lack schools, hospitals, and roads. Children in Turkana, North Eastern, and parts of Eastern Kenya continue to learn under trees, while their elected leaders hide behind tribe, clan, and religion. These same leaders invest in real estate, erecting multi-storey buildings and luxury homes in Nairobi, Mombasa, and other affluent areas. Meanwhile, their constituents survive on humanitarian aid and relief food.
This is not governance. It is betrayal.
Development is not an act of generosity. It is a constitutional right owed to every Kenyan, regardless of geography, tribe, or political affiliation. When leaders invest in schools, hospitals, water systems, and roads, they do more than erect physical structures. They stimulate local economies, create employment, restore dignity, and lay the foundation for generational progress. When they fail to do so, they deny citizens their rightful share of national prosperity.
Accountability must no longer be treated as a polite suggestion. Lifestyle audits must be mandatory, comprehensive, and insulated from political interference. Public office cannot continue to be a gateway to unexplained wealth while communities languish in poverty.
Kenya must also confront a debate we have postponed for far too long, the separation of religion and the State. When faith becomes a political instrument, when altars are converted into money-laundering theatres, and when religious leaders willingly become accomplices to corruption, the spiritual and moral fabric of the nation begins to decay from within. The pulpit loses its sanctity, the people lose their trust, and society loses its compass.
We must reclaim our institutions, both sacred and civic, from those who exploit them for personal gain. The future of the nation depends on our courage to confront these uncomfortable truths and to demand integrity from those who claim to lead us.
