Railway Demolitions Ignite Political Firestorm as State Reclaims Nairobi–Kikuyu Corridor

Kenya, 14 January 2026 - The violent growl of bulldozers slicing through concrete, iron sheets and glass along the Nairobi–Kikuyu railway corridor this week was not just the sound of demolition—it was the unmistakable roar of the State reasserting its authority over land, power and privilege.

In an operation that quickly escalated into a political and legal storm, illegal structures sitting on the railway reserve were flattened, sweeping away businesses, vehicles and livelihoods, and in the process dragging some of the country’s most powerful political players into the glare of public scrutiny.

What made the operation explosive was not just its scale but its symbolism. Among the structures brought down was a high-end car wash linked to Kiambu Governor Kimani Wamatangi.

In a country where political office has often acted as a shield against the law, the demolition of a facility associated with a sitting governor sent shockwaves through political circles and beyond.

Authorities were unapologetic.

They said the land in question was a protected railway reserve and had been illegally occupied for years, undermining a major commuter rail expansion project meant to decongest Nairobi and unlock economic growth in satellite towns.

“This land does not belong to individuals, no matter how powerful they are. It belongs to the public,” officials said as machines chewed through concrete and twisted steel.

“We gave notices. We allowed time. Those who ignored the law did so at their own risk.”

The operation, they said, was part of a broader plan to rehabilitate the old metre-gauge railway and create new commuter stations, including a mini terminal at Strathmore, to ease pressure on the city’s choking roads. For years, planners had complained that encroachment on the rail corridor had made expansion impossible.

“Every time we try to build, we find shops, car yards, warehouses and even permanent buildings sitting on the railway line,” officials said. “That is why public transport has remained crippled. You cannot modernise railways when the tracks have been turned into private real estate.”

The demolition therefore became more than a routine enforcement action. It became a confrontation between public interest and political privilege.

As the dust settled, critics quickly accused the State of political witch-hunting, pointing to the involvement of a high-profile governor. But authorities rejected that narrative outright.

“This is not about politics. This is about land and the law,” they said.

“If anything, this operation proves that political office is no longer a licence to break the rules. If you have built on public land, you will go, whether you are a hawker or a governor.”

That assertion struck at the heart of Kenya’s long and bitter history of land grabbing, where politically connected individuals have for decades carved out chunks of public land with impunity, often in the full knowledge that enforcement agencies would look the other way.

This time, the bulldozers did not stop.

Businesses that had operated for years on the rail reserve watched helplessly as their investments were reduced to rubble. Some cried foul, saying they had obtained permits from county authorities. But national agencies dismissed those claims.

“You cannot issue permits for land you do not own,” officials said. “A railway reserve is not county land. It is protected national infrastructure. Any document purporting to legalise occupation there is null and void.”

The statement was a thinly veiled jab at county governments that have been accused of either turning a blind eye to encroachment or actively profiting from it through illegal approvals and rent-seeking.