POWER, AGE & SACCO SEAT
On a sweltering afternoon in Mombasa’s Majengo area, the rhythmic hum of printers, the clatter of keyboards, and the occasional roar of a passing boda boda provide the soundtrack to a conversation quietly shaking Kenya’s cooperative movement.
Inside his cyber café, John Mwachi wipes sweat from his forehead and steps away from a desktop computer. He laughs softly when asked about the heated debate surrounding Sacco leadership term limits.
“People think this is a minor administrative issue,” he says, leaning against the counter. “But leadership is everything. If leadership stagnates, even the best Sacco will eventually stall.”
Mwachi is a member of Unaitas. By day, he runs this modest shop serving students, job seekers, and small-scale traders. By night, he pores over Sacco notices and attends member meetings whenever possible. For him, the push for term limits isn’t abstract policy—it is a matter of daily survival.
“When the same people sit at the top for too long, they lose sight of the ordinary member,” he explains. “You bring a genuine concern, and they tell you, ‘We’ll look into it.’ Five years later, you’re still waiting for that answer.”
Across town, Hussein Mohammadi, a man in his mid-forties, chooses his words with care. A member of one of Mombasa’s leading Saccos, he asks that its name remain unmentioned—not out of fear, he says, but caution.
“I’ve had friction with the leadership before,” Hussein admits. “In these institutions, once people start pointing fingers, the real issues get buried under personal politics.”
Hussein’s support for term limits is strategic rather than reactionary. “Limiting terms is simply better than the alternative,” he says firmly. “Power, when held too long, changes people. Even the best leaders get comfortable, and comfort leads to complacency.”
However, Hussein isn’t just a critic from the sidelines; he plans to contest a delegate position in his Sacco.
“People ask me why I don’t just complain from the outside,” he says with a small smile. “But change doesn’t come from shouting. It comes from taking a seat at the table and refusing to stay silent.”
For Hussein, term limits are about more than just rotating faces—they are about institutional health. “If positions rotate, more members gain exposure and more fresh ideas enter the room. Leaders also perform better when they know they will be judged on what they achieved in a limited time, rather than how long they managed to cling to office.”
Sadik, the youngest of the three, takes the conversation in a sharper direction. His frustration is palpable, his words fast and animated.
“Let’s be honest,” Sadik says. “This isn’t just a Sacco problem; it’s a national one. Leadership in this country is dominated by an older generation that is reluctant to let go.”
While Sadik acknowledges the value of experience, he believes it has become a barrier. “We respect our elders. They built these institutions from the ground up,” he says. “But respect should not be a mandate for permanent leadership.”
For Sadik, the issue is generational. “Young people face different challenges today—digital jobs, unstable gig economies, and ‘hustles’ that don’t fit the traditional 1990s models. How can leaders who have never lived this reality fully represent us? Sometimes it feels like Saccos are speaking to a Kenya that no longer exists.”
Back at the cyber café, Mwachi nods in agreement when Sadik’s points are shared with him.
“Exactly,” Mwachi says. “Look at the youth in biashara like mine—online work and digital services. Yet, many Sacco products are still designed solely for the salaried employee of thirty years ago.”
Despite their frustrations, none of the three men advocate for a reckless overhaul. Their consensus is clear: term limits are necessary, but they must be implemented with care.
“We don’t want chaos,” Hussein emphasizes. “You don’t just remove experienced leaders without preparing their replacements.” He believes mentorship must be mandatory. “Outgoing leaders should train those coming in to ensure institutional memory isn’t lost.”
Sadik agrees but warns that time is running out. “If we wait too long, the youth will disengage completely. They’ll decide these Saccos aren’t for them, and that will be the death of the movement.”
As a customer collects their prints and leaves the shop, John glances at the door.
“At the end of the day, a Sacco belongs to its members—not to a chairman, and not to a board,” he concludes. “When leaders know their time is finite, they listen more. They perform better. And most importantly, the members finally feel seen.”
As the Ministry of Cooperatives moves the conversation on leadership term limits into the national spotlight, the voices of Hussein, Sadik, and John highlight the true stakes. This is more than a policy shift; it is a fight for trust, inclusion, and the future relevance of Kenya’s multi-billion-shilling cooperative sector.
Their tones may differ, but their message is singular: leadership should be a season of service, not a permanent residence. In a movement built on collective progress, no seat should ever be for life.
“When the same people sit at the top for too long, they lose sight of the ordinary member. You bring a genuine concern, and they tell you, ‘We’ll look into it.’ Five years later, you’re still waiting for that answer.”
~John Mwachi, Sacco Member.
