A child died in daycare. The system had failed long before that.

On what should have been an ordinary morning, 2.5-year-old Joy was dropped off at a daycare centre in Kitengela.

Hours later, she was dead.

An autopsy was conducted, and in a matter of days, a routine drop-off turned into a criminal investigation into the circumstances of her death, raising urgent questions about what happened inside that centre, and how such a tragedy could occur.

It is tempting to focus on that single facility. To ask who is responsible, to assert blame. And as a mother and early childhood professional, I could never condone hitting a child under any circumstance. But the question of who is to blame is too small.

Because the truth is, Joy is not the first child to be failed by this system and, without change, she will not be the last.

Across Kenya, there has rightly been growing attention on pre-primary education. But for children under the age of four, there is no clear home. Responsibilities are fragmented across ministries and counties, with no institution coordinating childcare. Our youngest children fall outside formal education systems and largely outside government responsibility assumed instead to be the domain of the family. This approach no longer reflects Kenya’s urbanizing economy, where over 50% of women participate in the labour force and most households rely on dual incomes. 

For middle- and higher-income families, there are options: nannies, private daycare centres, structured early learning environments.

For families in low-income, informal settlements, the reality is different. Childcare often means leaving a child with a neighbour, sometimes leaving them at home alone - if only for a few hours - or pulling an older sibling, usually a girl, out of school to care for the younger one.

Childcare also happens in “babycares”: homes or small, rented spaces run by local women, often with minimal resources. Without training. Without clear standards. Without consistent oversight or support.

The issue is not that childcare in Kenya is informal. The issue is that this system is unsupported.

When something goes wrong in a formal institution, there are protocols. There are inspections. There is accountability. But in much of Kenya’s childcare landscape, expectations are unclear, inconsistent, or entirely absent.

We regulate matatus. We inspect restaurants. We enforce standards for the food we eat and the roads we drive on.

And yet, for the places where our youngest children spend their days, the guardrails are often missing.

In the aftermath of tragedies like the one in Kitengela, the instinct is often to crack down; to shut down centres, to impose stricter rules, to act swiftly and visibly.

But if we are not careful, we risk pushing childcare further into the shadows, making it even harder to monitor and support. The answer is not to eliminate informal childcare. It is to strengthen it.

Kenya has already taken important steps with the adoption of a National Care Policy. It signals recognition that care is not just a private responsibility, but a public good.

But policies do not protect children on their own. Implementation does.

Counties now have an opportunity, and a responsibility, to translate this policy into real systems. That begins with mapping existing providers and establishing a national childcare registry, alongside a clear floor of basic safety standards and simple, enforceable guidelines that every provider can realistically meet. From there, we must invest in helping providers improve through training, coaching, peer networks, and ongoing quality assurance that reach even the smallest centres. 

It also means investing public resources into childcare, not as charity, but as infrastructure.

Because that is what childcare is.

It is the invisible system that allows markets to function, businesses to operate, and economies to grow. When a mother goes to work knowing her child is safe, that is childcare working. When she does not have that assurance, the entire system begins to fracture.

We have seen this pattern before.

A tragedy. Public outrage. Promises of accountability. And then, silence.

We cannot let what happened in Kitengela become just another headline that fades.

To be sure, not every daycare is unsafe. Across the country, there are thousands of providers doing extraordinary work under difficult conditions. And parents are not careless - they are making impossible choices, balancing the need to earn a living with the need to keep their children safe.

But that is precisely the point.

When a service is this essential, it cannot be left to chance.

We know what works. We have seen that with the right support - training, standards, and support - childcare centres can become safe, nurturing environments where children thrive.

If we treat childcare as the essential infrastructure it is - something to be invested in, regulated thoughtfully, and supported - we have an opportunity to build a system that works for everyone.

The question is not whether we can afford to do this. It is whether we can afford not to.

Sabrina Habib is the Co-Founder of Kidogo, Kenya's largest childcare network. She is also a Public Voices Fellow Tackling Poverty, a partnership of Acumen and The OpEd Project.