The promise of transformation now appears increasingly hollow.
More than a decade ago, Kenya's Constitution made a solemn promise to its most forgotten communities: a dedicated fund, fed by half a percent of national revenue each year, would finally bring roads, water, health, and light to places long left behind. By 2026, that promise has delivered only a fraction of what was owed — Sh15.93 billion of a constitutionally required Sh67.8 billion — while the National Treasury holds Sh51.9 billion unremitted and a constitutional deadline of 2031-32 draws steadily closer. What was designed as a once-in-a-generation correction to historical neglect now risks becoming a monument to institutional failure, its ambition intact but its machinery broken.
- Kenya's Equalisation Fund has received just 23% of the money it is constitutionally owed, leaving Sh51.9 billion trapped in a Treasury that has never sent it.
- The fund's mandate expires in 2031-32 — only six years away — and the Auditor General has warned plainly that Kenya will not achieve what the fund was built to do in time.
- Thirteen counties with approved projects worth over Sh2 billion have received nothing, and six more have stalled entirely because they failed to submit required paperwork, leaving Sh1.37 billion frozen.
- Conflicting regulations have created a governance vacuum where no one is clearly responsible for approvals, public participation, or financial reporting — paralyzing even the money that does arrive.
- Parliament has yet to act on extending the fund's deadline, and without dramatic acceleration in both funding and implementation, millions of residents in 34 counties may never see the development they were promised.
Kenya's Equalisation Fund was born from a constitutional commitment: half a percent of national revenue, every year, directed toward the country's most neglected regions until they caught up with the rest. Since 2011-12, that formula should have delivered Sh67.8 billion. Only Sh15.93 billion has arrived. The National Treasury has never remitted the remaining Sh51.9 billion it owes.
Auditor General Nancy Gathungu documented the scale of the failure in a June 2025 report. Nearly three-quarters of the fund's entitled resources never reached it. With the constitutional mandate set to expire in the 2031-32 financial year — just six years away — she warned that the fund's founding purpose is unlikely to be fulfilled. What began with 14 beneficiary counties, including Turkana, Mandera, and Samburu, was expanded in 2018 to 1,424 marginalised areas across 34 counties. The ambition grew; the money and the machinery did not follow.
On the ground, the dysfunction is concrete. The 2023 Appropriation Act set aside Sh10.02 billion for projects under the expanded policy, but only 29 percent of that had been disbursed by June 2025. Six counties had not received approval for a single project — not because they were ineligible, but because they had not submitted the required paperwork, leaving Sh1.37 billion idle. Thirteen counties with fully approved projects had received nothing at all.
Regulatory confusion compounds the crisis. The Public Finance Management rules governing the fund contain contradictions about who approves projects, who conducts public participation, and who prepares financial reports. Neither the Treasury nor the fund's administrators have moved to resolve them. The result is a system that cannot spend what little it receives.
In Parliament, Tiaty MP William Kamket asked when Baringo would receive its full allocation. The question went unanswered. Gathungu noted that even a full release of the Sh51.9 billion tomorrow might not be enough — administrative failures could still prevent counties from absorbing the funds before the deadline closes. Unless Parliament extends the fund's life or the government moves with urgency on both money and implementation, the transformation promised to Kenya's most marginalised communities may simply never arrive.
Kenya created the Equalisation Fund more than a decade ago with a straightforward promise: use it to bring water, roads, health facilities, and electricity to the country's poorest and most neglected regions. The Constitution mandated that half a percent of national revenue flow into the fund each year. By now, in 2026, that should have added up to Sh67.8 billion. Instead, only Sh15.93 billion has actually arrived. The National Treasury has simply not sent the remaining Sh51.9 billion it owes.
Auditor General Nancy Gathungu laid out the failure in a June 2025 report that reads like a reckoning. Nearly three-quarters of the money meant to uplift marginalised communities never reached the fund at all. Worse, the clock is running out. The Constitution gives the fund until the 2031-32 financial year—just six years away—before it expires. After that, the money stops flowing, the mandate ends, and whatever work remains unfinished stays unfinished. Gathungu warned plainly that Kenya is unlikely to achieve what the fund was built to do.
The scope of the problem grew larger over time. When the fund started, officials identified 14 beneficiary counties—places like Turkana, Mandera, Wajir, and Samburu where development had lagged furthest behind. But in 2018, the government expanded the reach dramatically, widening it to 1,424 marginalised areas spread across 34 counties. The ambition was admirable. The execution was not. Even as the fund's reach expanded, the money flowing to it contracted, and the machinery to distribute and spend what little arrived ground to a halt.
The numbers from the ground tell the story. The Equalisation Fund Appropriation Act of 2023 allocated Sh10.02 billion for projects under the expanded policy. But six counties—Bomet, Bungoma, Kericho, Kitui, Lamu, and Narok—had not received approval for any projects at all, despite a combined allocation of Sh1.37 billion, simply because they had not submitted the required paperwork. Of the money that was approved, only 48 percent had actually been requested and transferred by June 2025. Thirteen counties with approved projects worth more than Sh2 billion had received nothing. Overall, just 29 percent of the money set aside had made it out the door.
Regulatory confusion has made things worse. The Public Finance Management regulations governing the fund contain conflicting provisions about who is responsible for public participation, who approves projects, and who prepares financial reports. The National Treasury and the fund's managers have not bothered to fix these gaps. The result is a system caught between chronic underfunding and broken implementation—a fund that cannot spend what little it receives because no one is entirely sure who is supposed to do what.
In Parliament, Tiaty MP William Kamket raised the question directly: when will Baringo get its full share? The question hangs unanswered. Even if the Treasury released all Sh51.9 billion tomorrow, Gathungu noted, administrative hurdles could still prevent counties from fully using the resources before the fund's deadline arrives. The promise of the Equalisation Fund—a once-in-a-generation intervention to close historical development gaps—now appears increasingly hollow. Unless Parliament extends the fund's life or the government dramatically accelerates both funding and implementation, many of the marginalised areas identified for support may never receive the full benefits they were promised. The alternative is that the money arrives too late, the systems remain too broken, and the transformation envisioned never comes.
Citas Notables
Given the low level of disbursements, the country is not likely to achieve the objectives of the Equalisation Fund.— Auditor General Nancy Gathungu
Even if Treasury were to release the outstanding billions immediately, administrative hurdles could still prevent counties from fully utilising the resources before the fund's deadline.— Auditor General Nancy Gathungu
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why did the government create this fund in the first place if it wasn't going to actually fund it?
The Constitution required it—0.5 percent of national revenue, every year. It was a legal mandate, not a choice. But mandates and actual money are two different things. The Treasury simply did not remit what it owed.
So this isn't a case of the fund existing but being poorly run. It's a case of the fund barely existing at all.
Exactly. Only 23 percent of what should have been there is there. You can't implement a program on a quarter of its intended budget, especially when the deadline is fixed.
The fund was supposed to help 14 counties originally, then it expanded to 34. Did expanding it make things better or worse?
It made the problem visible. When you expand the scope without expanding the resources, you're not helping more people—you're spreading the same shortage thinner. Now 34 counties are waiting instead of 14.
What happens in six years when the fund expires?
Unless Parliament votes to extend it, the fund closes. Any projects not finished by then stay unfinished. The money stops coming. The mandate ends.
Is there any chance the government will suddenly release the Sh51.9 billion it owes?
Technically possible. But even the Auditor General said that even if it did, the administrative chaos—the unclear rules, the missing project proposals, the counties that haven't absorbed funds they already received—would likely prevent counties from actually spending it all before the deadline.
So the fund could fail in two ways: not enough money, or not enough time to spend what money exists.
Yes. It's trapped between chronic underfunding and broken systems. Either one alone would be a crisis. Together, they make the original promise almost impossible to keep.