Ex-governor handed stiff sentence as court tightens screws on tender graft

Kenya’s anti-graft courts sent a blunt message to county bosses: abuse public trust and you will pay for it. Former Kiambu Governor Ferdinand Waititu has been sentenced to 12 years in prison or a fine of KSh 53.5 million after his February 2025 conviction over a KSh 588 million road tender scheme. The court found he pocketed KSh 25 million from Testimony Enterprises soon after the company clinched a flawed county contract—an arrangement the judge said fatally breached integrity rules for public officers.

Justice Lucy Njuguna ruled that the former governor’s dealings amounted to conflict of interest and dealing with suspect property. In plain terms: as the top county official, he was expected to guard public funds, not profit from a contractor whose success depended on his administration. The court said that by taking the money, he compromised the procurement process and shortchanged residents who were supposed to get proper roads for their taxes.

The sentence is part of a broader judgment that swept up several co-accused tied to the tender. The court also barred each convict from holding any public office—elective or appointive—for 10 years under Section 64 of the Anti-Corruption and Economic Crimes Act (ACECA). That ban aims to keep those found guilty of economic crimes away from positions where they could handle taxpayer money again.

Waititu has remained at Kamiti Maximum Prison after failing to satisfy strict bond terms that required a bank guarantee of KSh 53 million. His bid to have the sentence reviewed fizzled on September 16, 2025, when the High Court said the verdict stands for now. The judge ordered that his appeal be concluded within 120 days, issuing a warning that delays without good reason could get the case struck out. The matter is set for mention on October 1, 2025—a brief court check-in to confirm readiness and timelines before arguments kick off.

How the tender unraveled, who got what, and what comes next

The case revolved around a high-value road contract in Kiambu County. Investigators and prosecutors argued that the procurement was irregular and tilted in favor of a contractor who later transferred KSh 25 million to the governor. That payment, the court found, wasn’t a coincidence. It raised the classic red flags: conflict of interest, abuse of office, and personal benefit tied to a public contract. ACECA treats such gains as suspect property when a public official can’t show a clean, lawful trail.

Dealing with suspect property means receiving or handling funds that are reasonably suspected to be proceeds of corruption. For a sitting governor, the bar is even higher. Kenya’s procurement law and ethical rules demand a strict separation between a decision-maker’s public role and any private gain. When the money flows the other way—from contractor to office-holder—that wall collapses.

The Anti-Corruption Court imposed a mix of prison terms and hefty fines on the wider cast of players around the road tender. Here’s how the sentences fell:

• Waititu’s wife, Susan Wangari Ndung’u: one year in prison or a KSh 500,000 fine for dealing with suspect property.
• Former Kiambu Chief Officer for Roads, Luka Wahinya: seven years in prison or a KSh 21 million fine for abuse of office.
• Testimony Enterprises director, Charles Chege: 11 years in prison or a KSh 297 million fine.
• Chege’s spouse, Beth Wangeci: three years in prison or a KSh 1.4 million fine for fraudulent practices.

Those penalties weren’t accidental or symbolic. They mirror the logic of anti-corruption law: set fines high enough to wipe out the benefit of wrongdoing, and layer prison terms to deter repeat behavior. The court said the scheme in Kiambu diverted public resources and undermined service delivery—roads that should have been built well and on time instead became vehicles for private profit.

Waititu’s legal troubles didn’t start this year. He was impeached in early 2020 after the Senate upheld his removal on grounds that included abuse of office and gross misconduct—political proceedings that run parallel to, and separate from, criminal trials. The new conviction is the criminal justice system’s answer to conduct that prosecutors said crossed legal lines while he was in charge of the county.

Why does this case matter beyond one county? Because it tests whether Kenya’s anti-graft architecture can discipline powerful figures and protect local budgets. Counties now handle big money for roads, water, health, and markets. When procurement turns into a cash loop—contracts awarded on paper, kickbacks circulated off the books—residents pay twice: once through taxes, and again through shoddy or unfinished work.

The judge’s reliance on ACECA’s Section 64 to bar the convicts from public office for a decade adds real bite. It blocks a quick return to politics or administrative posts while the memory of the crime is still fresh. That matters in a system where some officials try to bounce back before the ink dries on their judgments. The message here was unambiguous: public office is a trust, not a shield.

So what happens next? The appeal clock is already running. An appellate bench will review the trial record, the legal standards applied, and whether the evidence supported the convictions and sentences. Appeals in graft cases rarely re-try facts; they look at law, procedure, and whether the trial court’s conclusions flowed logically from the evidence. The High Court’s order to finish within 120 days suggests a push to avoid the drift that often feeds public cynicism.

Bond remains a sticking point. The bank guarantee of KSh 53 million is steep by design—courts set such terms to ensure a convicted person sticks with the process and doesn’t disappear. Until that guarantee is met, Waititu remains at Kamiti. If the appeal succeeds, the conviction or sentence could be varied or quashed. If it fails, the sentence stands as is.

This case also puts pressure on the procurement ecosystem. County tender boards, accounting officers, and chief officers—the people who sign off on bids and payments—now know they’ll be named and punished if they bend rules. The sentence against the former Chief Officer for Roads drives home that point. It’s not just governors in the dock; it’s the chain of decision-makers who facilitate suspect deals.

For Kiambu residents, the practical question is whether the county can claw back money and finish the roads. Criminal courts punish people; asset recovery and civil suits chase the cash. Expect the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission and the Office of the Director of Public Prosecutions to keep prodding for restitution where possible. If recovered, those funds could be redirected to the stalled projects that started this saga.

There’s a cultural shift at play too. The old playbook—deny, delay, switch parties, try again at the ballot—looks riskier when courts back their words with years behind bars and eight-figure fines. With a 10-year ban from public office riding on this judgment, the Kiambu tender case is more than a headline. It’s a signal that the cost of graft is rising, and sooner rather than later.

• Politics

Written by Marc Perel

I am a seasoned journalist specializing in daily news coverage with a focus on the African continent. I currently work for a major news outlet in Cape Town, where I produce in-depth news analysis and feature pieces. I am passionate about uncovering the truth and presenting it to the public in the most understandable way.