JAMILA'S MEMO: Budget numbers vs reality

This week, the Finance Bill 2026 was published, and almost immediately, questions began emerging from the public. Questions about possible hidden taxes, levies, indirect charges, and the fear of new burdens eventually finding their way into the lives of already strained wananchi.

There is a growing disconnect in this country between government budgeting and the actual lived reality of Kenyans.

The Last two years changed this country. The Gen Z protests of 2024 were not simply about one Finance Bill, but about accumulated frustration. And one of the things young Kenyans exposed very clearly was that many painful provisions in that Finance Bill were either poorly explained, quietly inserted, or only fully understood after public scrutiny.

Young people sat down and started reading. Clause by clause. Tax by tax. Levy by levy. And suddenly, citizens realized that what had initially been presented as routine fiscal measures would directly affect them negatively. That moment fundamentally changed the relationship between Kenyans and government budgeting.

These days, people no longer assume that what is being proposed is harmless. They are searching for what may be hidden between the lines. And honestly, can you blame them? Because many Kenyans are experiencing a country becoming more expensive without life necessarily becoming better. Fuel prices go up, Transport costs go up, Food prices rise. Electricity, School costs rising…

But the ordinary mwananchi’s income remains almost exactly where it was. Salaries have not risen at the same speed as the cost of survival. Businesses are struggling. Young people are unemployed. Families are quietly cutting down meals and adjusting lifestyles just to cope.

Yet every budget cycle still sounds like a glossy economic presentation at a global investment conference. Big words. GDP. Macroeconomic stability. Revenue enhancement. Fiscal consolidation. Growth trajectory. Eh!

And meanwhile, wananchi are standing at the kiosk recalculating whether they can afford unga, fuel, or fare home. Now that is the disconnect. Because government budgeting increasingly feels theoretical, aspirational, and academic rather than practical and grounded in lived Kenyan realities. Sometimes it feels like we are budgeting for Singapore while living in Kenya.

And that reflects the growing frustration that policy conversations often sound disconnected from the daily pressures citizens are carrying. Government needs to understand that behind every new levy, tax adjustment, or increase, there is a human being already trying to survive an expensive economy.

And perhaps this is where government communication keeps failing. Instead of beginning with empathy, many explanations begin with instruction. Kenyans are told: “You do not understand economics.” “This is global.” “This is necessary.” “This is how modern economies work.”

But Kenyans are not reacting emotionally because they hate development. They are reacting because they feel cornered. Especially when they simultaneously see large government delegations, political and empowerment rallies, luxury spending, and reports of wastage. So naturally, people begin asking: if sacrifice is necessary; who exactly is sacrificing?

And maybe that is the real challenge facing government today. It needs to convince Kenyans that the burden is fair, transparent, and connected to actual improvement in their lives. Otherwise, once people stop trusting budgets, eventually their trust in institutions also dies.

And that is my memo.