At Nairobi Remand and Allocation Maximum Security Prison, introducing yourself as a visitor seeking to see former Kiambu governor Ferdinand Waititu comes with some expectations; prison warders see you as a dealmaker visiting a fallen ally facing 12 years for corruption.
To see the mighty one that fell, one must declare to warders who they are, and their relationship to Waititu – the result of a trending photo of the former governor in prison attire, taken by an insider and which riled the remand facility’s top brass. Waititu has filed a fresh application, seeking to be released on a bond , pending his appeal against a 12-year jail term for receiving kickbacks from contractors while in office, and conflict of interest. Justice Lucy Njuguna dismissed his first bond application on March 3. For now, he is one of nearly 5,000 inmates at the Nairobi Remand and Allocation Maximum Security Prison in Industrial Area, Nairobi County.
“Visitors are not allowed to carry their mobile phones inside the prison, as a security measure,” a warder tells the Nation, as he excuses himself for seven minutes to inform Waititu of his guest.
Twenty minutes later, Waititu emerges, wearing the trademark criminal couture – a black-and-white striped shirt with matching trousers – and gliding in cardinal-red slippers. It is a far cry from his sartorial preference of expensive suits and designer footwear during his days as a political mover and shaker.
The former governor has grown tired of the monotonous headcounts before daybreak, in the afternoon and at sundown during the warders’ shift changes. Save for a special accommodation routine, he goes through the usual predicaments the other inmates face. “I have just come out of mid-morning service at Christian International Church as there is not much you can do here,’’ he says, after a brief chat on how his morning is. The church is domiciled inside the prison.
Former Kiambu County Governor Ferdinand Waititu at the Milimani Law Court on February 13, 2025.
Photo credit: Wilfred Nyangaresi | Nation Media Group
“The minute you get inside here, you realise [that] you are alone, and the people you thought were your friends, you realise they were acquaintances.”
We sit outside the prison's documentation centre. “My days here have been traumatising. I have lost my appetite and my dignity, and few people come to see me because they think I will ask them for money to pay my fine after I was jailed for 12 years.”
The interview setting is a big contrast for a once boisterous politician, who, in his prime, enjoyed the full trappings of power, and was often sought by the who-is-who in Kenya’s political world, a result of his mobilisation skills and natural charisma, which has now faded.
“Today’s sermon was about rising above defeat,” he says after I ask his “take-home” from the sermon. “Prison is not a good place, it is where great ideas die and you are mentally tormented. There is no freedom, no facilities and now I know better. When you have resources, you attract everyone and you think you are in control. But we lie to ourselves. People come to you because they know you can solve their problems. Since morning, for instance, no one has visited me,” Waititu says, insisting he will keep pushing for his release on a bond or bail.
Nairobi Remand and Allocation Maximum Security Prison currently has about 4,800 inmates.
Throughout the 45-minute interview, an armed guard sits next to us. From an observation, Waititu has created a good rapport with warders, who often refer to him as ‘Baba Yao’, a moniker he acquired in his political prime, and legally adopted as a surname ahead of the 2017 election.
Waititu has not found peace in prison. Chores, which he could often pay others to do, are now part of his daily routine. He is cautious about who comes to visit him after numerous fraudsters and well-dressed brokers turn up in prison to see him. Posing as well-connected individuals in the Judiciary and in politics, they promised him freedom in exchange for millions.
“The first few weeks after I was brought in here were exciting and infuriating. People know I am here because it is believed that I stole millions of shillings when I served as Kiambu governor and now think I have money. Conmen and brokers have been coming here telling me to part with Sh10–15 million to buy justice. I have no such money and I am certain [that] one day, I will walk out of this place free,” Mr Waititu says, as he munches a fruit cocktail from a plastic container for lunch.
He does not like probing questions and is uncomfortable when asked why he had to drag his whole family, more so his wife, Susan Wangari, into the saga. “The problem with journalists is that you always come to interview someone with a mindset of what you want to hear and write, so you end up breaking people’s character and family. I am not here to discuss family matters; I don’t want to drag my family into this conversation,” he says, clearly unhappy about the question.
Former Kiambu Governor Ferdinand Waititu at the Milimani Law Courts on February 12, 2025.
Photo credit: Wilfred Nyangaresi | Nation Media Group
Milimani Chief Magistrate Thomas Nzyoki further barred Mr Waititu, his wife and co-accused from holding any office for 10 years. The case started on July 29, 2019, when he was accused of influencing the award of a Sh588 million contract to Testimony Enterprise, owned by Charles Chege and Beth Wangeci Mburu in the 2017–18 financial year.
Court proceedings revealed that the contractor overcharged Sh588 million, and the tender proceedings were predetermined, with Waititu, through proxy companies, receiving kickbacks of Sh25.6 million.
Chege, the owner of Testimony Enterprises, was ordered to deposit a fine of Sh295 million or spend nine years in jail, while his wife, Beth, was ordered to pay a Sh1.4 million fine or spend two years in jail. Lucas Wahinya, the road engineer who approved and oversaw the project, was ordered to pay a Sh21 million fine or spend seven years in jail.
Asked whether there are things he believes he should have done differently, the former governor says it is too late to start thinking about what should have been done right or avoided. “For now, my focus is freedom and getting out of this place. I miss freedom, I miss home, the pain of waking up confined and sleeping confined is depressing.”
But his woes seem far from over, given a pending court decision on whether the EACC can attach his assets, estimated to be worth Sh1.9 billion, which the anti-graft agency argues are proceeds of corruption.
