It is 2019. Kenya’s economy is showing promise, and a spirit of philanthropy is sweeping the nation. At the Charitable Children’s Institution (CCI) where I worked, volunteers arrived each week, drawn by the allure of voluntourism. Their hearts were in the right place: they wanted to connect with the children, share words of encouragement, serve warm meals, and hand out sweets.
But as the sun dipped, a familiar ritual unfolded. A well-meaning volunteer would pull me aside, eyes earnest, and whisper, “This is your calling…may God bless you.” Then they would disappear into the night, leaving behind candy wrappers, a sink full of dishes, and children drained by the routine.
In those moments, I wanted to grab someone and shout: I need more than candy-coated gestures! I need sustained support, an extra pair of hands, maybe even a moment to catch my breath.
I did appreciate the help. It gave us a brief breather. But here is the thing: raising children demands more than fleeting kindness. Our children’s development, their education, and their sense of safety—none of it can be built on good intentions alone. And yet, across Kenya, childcare institutions are surviving on exactly that: grace and good vibes. We balance the delicate work of providing alternative care while scraping together scarce resources, navigating fragile support systems, and sometimes facing outright systemic hostility.
Our CCI was just one of over 845 registered institutions operating in Kenya. I am certain our story was not unique.
How did we get here?
An estimated 45,000 children live in CCIs across Kenya, overseen by the Directorate of Children Services. Another 1,000 to 1,200 children live in 28 government-run institutions, including rehabilitation, remand, reception, and rescue centers. These figures exclude children in unregistered facilities, so the actual number is certainly higher.
Several factors push children into CCIs: displacement from conflict and natural disasters, family separation, children living on the streets, abuse, and instability at home. But poverty remains the cross-cutting driver. About 16 million Kenyans (35 percent) still live on less than USD 2 a day. Those who don’t are often one medical bill away from poverty.
A UNICEF Child Poverty Study (2020) found that 45 percent of all children in Kenya (around 9.5 million) are multidimensionally poor, meaning they are severely deprived in three or more basic needs: education, housing, nutrition, water, or sanitation. The situation worsens in rural areas, where six in ten children experience severe deprivation.
Beyond the overall harm to children’s development and prospects, poverty increases the likelihood that a child will end up in a CCI or another form of alternative care.
Surviving on grace and good vibes
Ideally, a CCI should provide the basic needs children were denied elsewhere. The reality is often different. A study by the National Crime Research Centre on the Status of Child Protection in CCIs found that more than 72 per cent of respondents cited inadequate funding as one of their biggest challenges. The top two funding sources were well-wishers and donors. Government support came in fifth place, with just 35 per cent of institutions receiving or sourcing funds from the state.
Children in CCIs that cannot provide holistic care risk experiencing further deprivation and abuse. Once they transition out of the institution, they frequently fall back into poverty. This is a primary reason behind the growing call for care reform.
How are we trying to solve this?
- Like any reasonable people, Kenya’s first response to child poverty was to throw money at it. In 2004, the country launched the OVC-CT program, which now supports about 1.4 million households. But the transfer is roughly KES 2,000 per month (KES 4,000 if you are lucky.)
- The other thing Kenyans love to offer is papers and unsolicited advice. We are prolific at policy and legal reform, and we boast one of the continent’s most progressive constitutions.
- We are also shifting funding from institutional care towards family- and community-based models.
On paper, we are saying all the right things.
But is it working?
If you are a parent—in whatever form—think about what it truly takes to raise your child.
- Financial investment.
- Infrastructure—a roof over your head, working plumbing, clean water, and beds that don’t cave in when you lie on them.
- Access – does your child get to interact with the things that will help them grow and develop? Education, social circles, entertainment, supportive family and friends, you…
- Supportive systems for you and your child—family, friends, rich aunties, state protection, community, etc.
Even with all of this, it is still likely that your child will mention you in therapy someday.
Real, holistic care is slow, unglamorous, and expensive. So we look for shortcuts.
The “African Family”
One shortcut that worries me is the loud, conservative appeal to return to “African family values.”
In Kenya, this rhetoric shrinks the family to a single, patriarchal, heteronormative unit, and it is used to stigmatize households headed by single mothers, grandparents, same-sex parents, or found families. The African Child Policy Forum has observed that policies shaped by rigid family definitions tend to reduce state support for alternative care, leaving displaced children in chronic neglect.
This further feeds into a poverty loop. Children are cut off from their families by an ideology that then justifies underfunding the places that take them in. The Family Protection Bill, which resurfaced in this political cycle, is a case in point. Amnesty International warned it would legitimize discrimination against children from non-traditional families, pushing them away from services. The Kenya Children’s Rights Coalition notes that conservative moral panic around “family values” stalls the registration and funding of CCIs, based on the idea that only biological family care is legitimate.
When we gatekeep which families are legitimate, we are not putting in the work. We are quietly excusing ourselves from doing the real work, at the expense of the children who don’t fit our narrative.
So let us talk about the actual work.
Someone once said that human beings are just plants with complicated emotions. If you have ever tried to keep a plant alive, you will understand.
Child poverty is multidimensional; it goes beyond a shortage of money. We must also address access and build systems and structures that prevent children from being deprived in the first place.
If we are serious about sustainable care reform, there are no shortcuts around poverty. State and non-state agencies (looking at you, development partners) must prioritize mitigating poverty through:
- School meal programmes;
- Education support;
- Cash assistance and social security;
- Childcare services;
- Affordable housing for parents and caregivers;
- Psychosocial support;
- Legal recognition;
- Security…and the list goes on…because you’re a parent now.
But the interventions need to go beyond “throwing money at our problems” or giving the “shoulda, woulda, coulda” speech to parents and caregivers trapped by systematic socio-economic failures. The intersection between childcare and poverty must be interrogated and addressed holistically.
The history of CCIs in Kenya shows the damage one-dimensional approaches can do: Wandering child? Place them in a shelter and figure it out later. That was, and in too many places still is, the model. Grace and good vibes.
I believe one of the many pathways to reducing poverty in the context of childcare is to treat it as we would treat children in our own homes: with no shortcuts. We simply put in the work, the time, and the money—because: Every child, in every family is worthy of investment.
The author is a gender justice expert.