A month ago, a community media house in one of the counties closed its operations. The leadership cited a tough business environment. The journalists were told to find other opportunities within a month. There was no severance, no transition plan, and no public conversation. The newsroom shut its doors and went quiet.
During the same period, journalists in other countries stood outside their media houses, holding placards. They were protesting unpaid wages. They said they had spoken to their manager. They said the conversations led nowhere. The same manager reportedly threatened to sue them if they dared follow through with their protest. One journalist told me the manager paid them depending on how he felt when he woke up on the first of each month. Sometimes he paid some, sometimes none. There was no system, no consistency, and indeed no fairness.
I have never understood this divide-and-rule strategy used by a section of media managers in this country. The idea that payment is a favor and not a right means journalists should remain silent or be labelled ungrateful. This is not leadership, journalism, but pure exploitation.
It might sound like I am writing a chapter from the Book of Lamentations, but this is the reality in many newsrooms. The picture on the ground is not a headline or an opinion poll but a steady collapse of the structures that once made journalism work.
A young journalist I spoke to recently told me she had given up on the newsroom. She now runs a small business in Siaya. Her exact words were, “Mimi mambo ya newsroom nimewachana nayo.” Her story is not rare; more and more journalists are quietly stepping away. Not because they stopped caring about the work, but because the work stopped caring about them.
A career that once carried weight now resembles Juakali work, uncertain, unstable, and often without protection. Some newsrooms do not issue contracts, some do not offer insurance, and some delay pay without a reason. For some journalists, every end of the month is a guess.
Yesterday’s report by the Media Council of Kenya gave a glimpse into this. According to the survey, 52% of journalists lack medical coverage, and only 48% have access. I know a colleague who falls under the 52%. When she fell sick, she had no choice but to stop hosting her Programme and focus on recovery.
From Nairobi to global hubs, newsrooms are talking about automation, data, and speed, which the industry needs, if you ask me. AI is used to write stories, generate headlines, and even present news.
News managers are attending AI workshops, consultants are designing workflows, and conferences are discussing the future of journalism. But while machines are being trained to write news faster, human journalists are still chasing last month’s salary. This is the contradiction we are not discussing enough.
We are told the future is here, and the tools will improve efficiency. But there is no point in celebrating new technology while the people who are supposed to use it are being mistreated.
There is talk of disruption, but little about contracts. There is energy around innovation, but little around health care, job security, or fair pay. We cannot talk about freedom of expression in this country without talking about the freedom to work, to be paid on time, to access health care, and to say no to unsafe or exploitative working conditions. These are not luxuries, they are basics.
It may be the right time to reflect on press freedom. Freedom is not just about what you can say. It is also about how you live, as you say. It is about the freedom to work without fear, to write without hunger, and to report without begging.
It may be the right time to say it clearly: Freedom of expression must come with the freedom to work with dignity.
The Writer is a Human Rights Defender
