By Jackson Okata
IN March this year, the Kenyan government unveiled a comprehensive plan to transform the country’s refugee camps into self-reliant, integrated settlements, allowing refugees and host communities to live and work side by side – a significant shift from the restrictive and aid-dependent encampment policies of the past.
The Shirika Plan aims to fold the refugee camps of Dadaab and Kakuma into municipalities administered by the respective counties of Garissa and Turkana, which will eventually take over service delivery from UN agencies and NGOs.
The municipalities will be able to attract infrastructural funding to kick-start economic opportunities, uplifting host communities and refugees alike.
Both the government and the UN refugee agency, UNHCR, celebrate Shirika as a landmark initiative that will build inclusion and independence for Kenya’s more than 840,000 registered refugees and asylum seekers.
It remodels refugee policy, moving from a reliance on a costly humanitarian response to long-term development – all the more appropriate now given the swingeing cuts to global aid budgets.
But away from the official backslapping, the plan is viewed far more sceptically by host communities and some politicians in Turkana and Garissa. They worry that, rather than a promised game changer, it will be a net drain on local resources and exacerbate tensions in two of Kenya’s poorest counties.
Before integrating refugees, they argue, the government should prioritise solving their deep-rooted problems around insecurity, unemployment, lack of healthcare, access to water, and dismal education performance levels.
A plan in motion
Structured in three phases over 11 years, Shirika is estimated to cost around $943 million in its initial stage – the bill picked up by the Kenyan government, World Bank, other donors, and private sector financiers.
Shirika builds on Kenya’s Refugees Act 2021, which grants refugees the right to work, freedom of movement in designated areas, and the right to own property – although a lack of government coordination frustrates some of those intentions. That is especially the case with the administrative hurdles refugees face in securing work permits.
Since June, the rollout has allowed refugees to, in theory, register for mobile money services with their refugee ID cards – a key step to self-sufficiency and business inclusion. However, not all branches of telecom companies at the moment accept the cards, despite the government’s ruling.
John Burugu, Kenya’s commissioner for refugee affairs, notes that Shirika’s implementation has only just started: “The resolve is still on and our commitment to make this plan work is solid,’’ he told The New Humanitarian.
He described local reservations as “normal challenges” and stressed the majority of Kenyans welcome refugee integration – underlined by the results of a nationwide survey published earlier this year.
Turkana governor, Jeremiah Lomurakai, backs the plan. He argues that host communities stand to benefit from the expected flow of new development financing and the recognised economic dividend refugee inclusion brings.
“Integration comes with huge benefits to us because donor funding will be directed to the community, unlike previously when it was heavily targeted at refugee camps,’’ he told The New Humanitarian.
The government has already secured $215 million from the World Bank’s concessionary lending arm to provide “robust health services” in Turkana and Garissa. “Integration is not only bringing refugees closer to us, but is also addressing the shortage of critical services,” said Lomurakai.
Shirika expands earlier county development initiatives, but the cornerstone of the plan is the creation of the new municipalities – the administrative mechanism through which infrastructural financing from the World Bank and other donors will flow.
There is a lack of reliable statistics, however, that makes the planning for economic and social inclusion difficult. Garissa and Turkana “have not included refugee numbers” in their country and municipality data, according to a researcher with a refugee-focused INGO, who asked not to be named as they are not authorised to speak to the media.
That omission not only impacts the rollout of services but also reflects wider concerns with the administrative capacity of the counties to manage their expanded responsibilities.
The local backlash
Community acceptability is also key to the success of Shirika, yet several MPs The New Humanitarian spoke to expressed opposition to the initiative.
“Integrating more than 840,000 refugees is a humanitarian catastrophe in the making,” said Daadab MP, Farah Maalim. He alleged that government officials who push Shirika “are more focused on the [donor] money aspect while ignoring the potential effects of integration on the host communities”.
He suggested the government and UNHCR should instead work on the voluntary repatriation of refugees – despite the instability of their home countries.
Daniel Epuyo, Turkana West’s MP, also described Shirika as a recipe for conflict. “The communities in Turkana and Daadab are already grappling with a shortage of necessities, including water and food,” he said. “Integrating refugees is like adding a catalyst into an existing crisis.”
He similarly felt implementation was being rushed. “Ensure the hosts have enough before you bring in visitors,” Epuyo noted. “Give us quality and accessible health care, good schools, markets, roads, and guarantee our security – then we can talk about integration.”
His Turkana North counterpart, Ekwom Nabuin, said his community was worried about “continued environmental destruction and erosion of cultural values” – the consequence, he alleged, of more than three decades of refugee hosting.
Land, rights, and “host fatigue”
The environmental damage caused by the cutting of trees for firewood and charcoal – and competition between refugees and locals over that cash earner – has been a longstanding source of tension in the complex relationship between both communities.
Garissa and Turkana are arid and semi-arid regions where land is owned communally and pastoralism is a major cultural and economic activity. Makambo Lotorobo, an activist with the community-based Friends of Lake Turkana, worries that the expansion and transformation of Dadaab and Kakuma into municipalities will rapidly shrink available pasture.
“It will require additional land, and the pastoralists are afraid of losing their grazing land,” he explained. “There is an existing notion among the communities that the two refugee camps took their land, and they are not ready to give away any more.”
While refugees chafe at Kenya’s encampment policy that has locked them up and left them aid dependent, some in the surrounding communities believe that they are the ones who have been disadvantaged and express a sense of “host fatigue”.
Nyariel Udier Bol, a South Sudanese refugee in Kakuma, argues in a research paper that some “feel refugees are better off than they are because they receive help from aid organisations and run businesses, creating competition in the area for resources that are already limited”.
Yet, refugees have their own set of concerns around their rights under Shirika. For integration to be successful, they will need a genuine political voice at the municipal level and not to be dismissed as “non-citizens”, some argue.
“Kenyan citizens have their rights, but we don’t have any representation,” Fardosa Sirat, a refugee women’s rights activist in Dadaab, told The New Humanitarian. “They have MCAs [Members of the County Assembly], MPs, a president and governors. But we have no one to represent us.”
There has been disillusionment over the lack of consultation. “Up until now, it is not clear to refugees what Shirika is,” said Abdirazaq Kahiye, a journalist based in Dadaab. “It is something organisations and the government have decided upon [without first being] presented to the refugees.”
There is also disappointment that the plan won’t deliver full freedom of movement and citizenship rights. Refugees instead will be restricted to the two counties – sharpening competition in the regions where economic opportunities are most limited.
A real concern is that rushed integration could even leave refugees worse off. “Many refugees fear that integration will mean the end of their [humanitarian] support system,” notes Bol, with the Kenyan government unable to fill the resultant gap.
A “political football”
Both refugee and host communities worry about insecurity – with the two regions prone to banditry and rustling.
In the case of Dadaab, where the majority of the more than 400,000 refugees are from Somalia, the government has historically politicised that concern, periodically claiming – without evidence – that the camp has been infiltrated by the insurgent group al-Shabab.
The Kenyan refugee survey noted that while Kenyans are generally welcoming towards refugees, there is less support for the free movement of those from Somalia, whom “they associate with insecurity and terrorism”.
A recent spate of attacks on police patrols by al-Shabab in the Dadaab area – close to the Somali border – will likely deepen those concerns.
Abdullahi Halakhe, a senior advocate at Refugees International, notes that for a variety of reasons – from Kenya’s currently struggling economy to security fears – refugees could become “a political football” ahead of the country’s 2027 elections.
He, however, blames the government for failing to effectively explain Shirika. “So many refugees – let alone locals – do not understand what integration is all about,” he told The New Humanitarian.
Despite the hurdles to Shirika’s implementation, the era of “big aid” has come to an end. The World Food Programme has slashed its food basket for refugees to just 28% of a full ration – the lowest level ever recorded in Kenya. It has also suspended cash transfers, a key measure for boosting people’s nutrition.
Halakhe regards Shirika as an opportunity to shift to a more durable refugee solution – one that, in the long term, will be less costly. “National and county levels, locals and refugees, all stand to benefit,” he said.
Edited by Obi Anyadike.
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The New Humanitarian puts quality, independent journalism at the service of the millions of people affected by humanitarian crises around the world. Find out more at www.thenewhumanitarian.org.
