I met a friend the other day for lunch and in the middle of our conversation she received a message. It was the hustler fund reminding her to clear her debt, which had accumulated some interest since receiving it almost a year ago.
Why not just pay? I couldn’t help asking. She shrugged her shoulders and went on with the conversation like nothing happened.
When the Hustler Fund was launched in December 2022, it was painted as a bold plan to lift ordinary Kenyans out of poverty through quick loans. President Ruto called it a fund for the hustlers, by the hustlers (what is it with this government and cliches) and the promise was that if banks won’t lend to you, worry not, the government has your back. For a country where millions of young people are without collateral, the idea was very much welcome.
But the numbers put a damper on the story almost immediately . What was ksh 500 supposed to accomplish? The majority of first-time borrowers received between Ksh 500 and Ksh 700, barely enough to restock enough eggs and smokies for a day’s business. And repayment was due within two weeks. It just became a vicious cycle, where a majority took out another loan just to repay the first.
What kind of business can you possibly start with Ksh 500?
The Fund was designed with short repayment windows in mind and tiny loan limits, something that has turned what was meant to be empowerment into a form of digital debt dependency. The initial promise was that credit limits would increase once you kept borrowing and paying, but sadly, traders complain that their credit limits barely rise even after multiple repayments. They also claim that even the slightest of delays in repaying means being locked out of the system entirely.
It’s not that the idea of a public microloan fund is wrong, especially since it is an open secret that Kenya’s informal sector is massive and chronically under-financed. But was the execution behind this even genuine or it was just another theatrical stage reeking of political performance? This government is full of those, as we are all beginning to understand. From players being paid to jump from one camera to the other claiming to have been a part of the “affordable housing,” and being used again for other projects.
We have witnessed young men claiming to have been given brand new bodas by the government, only to reappear later lamenting of having been duped; that the said bodas were later taken from them.
This is the grand theatre of politics if ever there was one, with everyone performing their role as is required of them. Do you know the worst part? That we haven’t seen anything yet.
The hustler fund, a program designed to look generous on paper rather than create real transformation, never delivered what it promised and – unsurprisingly – not much is talked about anymore, as if the mere mention of it causes embarrassment to the very people who promised heaven with it. It’s a populist gesture wrapped in fintech language. In the backgruond, banks, SACCOs and chamas keep doing what they have been doing since time immemorial – without much fanfare.
Two years later, the Hustler Fund is all talk and no show. The government talks about the billions disbursed but rarely speaks of sustainability or success stories. With all due respect, what the young people really needed was capital to start businesses and not tokens to survive the week.
Later, my friend and I found ourselves circling back to the hustler fund thing. I asked if the funds did help in her business in one way or the other. How? She looked at me incredulously over the brim of her cup. “They said I could use the Hustler Fund to start a business, but the most I could do with the five hundred is buy airtime to call my friends and complain about the economy.”
