If there’s one thing Nairobians love more than a good political debate, it’s a hot, fluffy chapati. It’s the undisputed king of Kenyan carbs, a national treasure that turns any meal into a feast.
But even the most passionate chapati lovers might raise an eyebrow at Nairobi Governor Johnson Sakaja’s latest grand idea requesting President William Ruto to buy a machine that can churn out one million chapatis a day for the Dishi na County school feeding programme.
And guess what? Ruto said yes. That’s right. Our President has now co-signed Sakaja’s chapati dreams, making it a full-blown national mission. Because if there’s one thing Kenya needed, it was a presidential pledge for mass chapati production.
One million chapatis. Every. Single. Day. Now, before we start dreaming of a utopia where chapatis rain from the heavens, let’s take a moment to ask: is this genius, madness, or just the latest episode of Kenya’s political theater? Sakaja proudly reminds us that Dishi na County feeds 300,000 students daily.
That’s commendable. But let’s break it down. Even if every child in the programme were to eat three chapatis a day, we’d still only need 900,000.
Who, then, is feasting on the remaining 100,000 chapatis? Teachers? Governors? Or is Nairobi secretly launching a chapati relief programme for the world? And how does one even distribute a million chapatis? Will we have unga trucks roaring through the streets like they’re delivering VIP cargo? Will Nairobians wake up to traffic jams caused by rogue chapati delivery riders? Will there be a Ministry of Chapati Affairs with a dedicated hotline for reporting burnt chapatis?
And the biggest question of all: why chapati? Of all the meals to industrialise, why go for the one that’s the most expensive, requires the most ingredients and takes the longest to prepare?
If the goal is to feed schoolchildren efficiently, wouldn’t it make more sense to focus on affordable, balanced and easy-to-prepare meals like githeri, rice, or ugali? Let’s talk unga, because without it, this dream crumbles like a stale mandazi.
A 2kg packet of flour makes roughly 40-50 chapatis. To produce one million chapatis a day, we’d need 20,000 to 25,000 packets daily, costing around Sh3.75 million per day and that’s before adding cooking oil, firewood, or gas.
Now, factor in the stew. Because let’s be real, dry chapati is a crime against humanity. A proper plate needs ndengu, beans, or at least some soup. That’s an extra Sh5 million per day for a side dish.
In total, we’re looking at Sh12.5 million daily, translating to Sh375 million per month and a staggering Sh4.5 billion annually. Just to make sure Nairobi’s kids are exclusively munching on chapatis. Let that sink in. Four. Point. Five. Billion.
And yet, Nairobi’s drainage system collapses at the first sign of rain. Floods turn roads into Olympic swimming pools, hospitals are struggling, garbage piles up faster than campaign promises and let’s not even talk about Nairobi’s unemployment crisis.
But sure, let’s prioritise the chapati industrial complex instead. It’s not that feeding children isn’t important. It absolutely is. But let’s not pretend Nairobi’s biggest crisis is a national chapati shortage.
A good leader solves problems in order of urgency. Right now, Nairobi’s most pressing needs are drainage, roads, healthcare, water supply and employment; not industrial-level chapati production. Flooding is a perennial nightmare.
One heavy downpour, and Nairobi’s roads transform into canoe routes. Meanwhile, hospitals like Mama Lucy struggle with shortages of doctors, nurses and even basic equipment.
And thousands of young Nairobians remain jobless, wondering when the government will stop making them promises and start making actual policies that change lives.
Yet, instead of tackling these, our leaders are debating how many chapatis per second we can produce. Even if the machine miraculously works, who is flipping and packing all these chapos? Will we have a chapati taskforce? A National Chapati Inspection Unit? Will Sakaja employ an army of professional chapati inspectors to ensure every single one is golden brown and not burnt?
Instead of sinking billions into a chapati fantasy, why not expand and refine the existing feeding programme? Other counties have figured it out.
In Murang’a, for example, parents contribute Sh20 per meal, making the programme sustainable without bleeding county funds dry. A similar approach in Nairobi could ensure every child eats, without turning the county into a chapati assembly line.
And, let’s be honest, do children even want to eat chapati every single day? After a week, the excitement will wear off, and teachers will start hearing complaints: “Madam, si tunapewa kitu ingine? Chapati tena? Tumechoka!”
Because let’s face it, chapati every day is a recipe for rebellion. Look, nobody hates chapati. In fact, it might just be the most unifying force in Kenya, second only to hating on KPLC when the lights go out. But this one-million-a-day proposal?
It’s sounding more like a political PR stunt than a practical solution. If such a machine actually existed and worked flawlessly, Nairobi wouldn’t just be feeding school children, we’d be exporting chapatis worldwide. But something tells me that’s not happening anytime soon.
So before we get carried away with dreams of an endless chapati fountain, maybe, just maybe, Nairobi’s leadership should start with the basics, fix the drainage, improve healthcare, create jobs and give Nairobians an actual reason to believe in the government.
Because at the end of the day, a good idea needs to be practical not just puffed up like a perfectly made chapati.
Writer is a Research officer, Media Council of Kenya.
