By Shueb Suleiman Issak

I am a public servant and, by instinct and principle, have long avoided political discussions in Kenya, a stance I intend to maintain in line with the law. Yet as a responsible citizen and, more deeply, a person guided by conscience, there are moments when silence becomes difficult to justify.

Northern Kenya is currently witnessing developments that extend beyond politics and merit reflection for their implications on national cohesion, equity, and long-term development, which demand acknowledgement. As a Northerner, I can no longer ignore these realities.

For decades, Northern Kenya has borne the burden of marginalisation. Since independence, successive governments have neglected the region, leaving it with significant infrastructure deficits and limited access to public services compared with other parts of the country.

That historical imbalance is not easily reversible. But whether one supports the current administration or not, it is difficult to ignore some of the steps that have been taken to address these disparities.

One notable intervention was the removal of the discriminatory extra vetting requirement for national identity cards in border regions in February 2025 through a presidential executive order. For many residents, this reform removed a long-standing administrative barrier that had limited access to opportunities and services available elsewhere in the country. Significantly, the proclamation announcing this change was made at Orahey Grounds in Wajir, sending a symbolic message that the concerns of the region were acknowledged for the first time by a serving Kenyan president.

This was followed, in February 2026, by a further commitment that the 2026 Madaraka Day celebrations would be held in Wajir despite the absence of a suitable facility to host such a national event. That commitment triggered the rapid construction of a Kshs 900 million, 10,000-seater stadium built from scratch. Against considerable logistical and infrastructural challenges, the project was completed in just three months, providing Northern Kenya with a landmark facility that will continue to serve the region long after the celebrations.

On 1 June 2026, Wajir became the centre of national attention as thousands of elders, mothers, youth, children, and leaders converged for the historic Madaraka Day celebrations – the first in Northern Kenya. The significance and excitement were unmistakable.

Long before dawn, residents gathered in large numbers, determined not to miss the proceedings. By morning, every available space inside the stadium had been occupied. Outside, equally large crowds assembled, unable to enter but unwilling to miss a moment they saw as historic. It was a day of pride, pomp, colour, and national presence.

Beyond the stadium, the president has reaffirmed the government’s commitment to the Isiolo–Wajir–Mandera road project, one of the most transformative infrastructure initiatives proposed for Northern Kenya. If completed as envisioned, the corridor has the potential to reshape economic activity, improve connectivity, and link the region more directly to national and regional markets.

Whether these developments influence political outcomes is for analysts and voters to determine. What is already evident, however, is that they have begun to foster a sense of recognition and belonging.

Development is not only measured in roads, buildings, and budgetary allocations. It is also defined by the restoration of dignity, the feeling of being seen, heard, and included as equal stakeholders in the national project.

The region has long lagged behind and waited decades for meaningful investment. When change begins, even gradually, people notice. This recognition, politically motivated or otherwise, has delivered something deeply important: the sense that Northern Kenya is part of Kenya’s story.

This does not erase historical inequality. Far from it. But neither should it be dismissed, for recognition itself carries developmental value. It changes expectations, and with it, the relationship between citizens and the state.

The challenges facing the region remain significant. There is an urgent need for sustained investment in universities, airports, roads, modern markets, national schools, referral hospitals, water projects, and other infrastructure capable of unlocking economic potential.

County governments play a role in devolved functions, but their fiscal space is constrained. Rising wage bills and recurrent expenditure leave little room for major capital projects. As a result, transformative infrastructure investment continues to depend heavily on national government priorities.

Northern Kenya deserves more development, and this is not negotiable. Kenya’s reliance on borrowing strengthens this case. Debt is not merely a financial instrument; it is an intergenerational commitment. The debts contracted today will be repaid by future generations. Sound fiscal policy therefore requires borrowed funds to be directed towards investments that create lasting value.

The logic is simple: future generations should not inherit only debt; they should also inherit the assets created through it. Roads, schools, water systems, and similar projects provide benefits long after loans have been repaid.

This is why equitable investment in historically marginalised regions is no longer optional but essential. After more than six decades of underdevelopment, directing resources to such areas helps ensure that development is shared more equitably and that peripheral communities are gradually integrated into national progress. Otherwise, these communities will continue to shoulder the burden of national debt without experiencing a fair share of the benefits it finances.

The new Wajir Stadium has already created hope. It stands as a symbol of inclusion and a reminder that development can reach areas long overlooked. But it also raises a deeper question: is this an isolated gesture, or the beginning of a sustained shift in development philosophy grounded in equity, inclusion, and national unity?

History will not be defined by the stadium alone, but by what follows it. The true test of this moment is continuity. The region’s hope and demand, therefore, is that it marks the beginning of real, sustained change.