By Martin Masai
Machakos Governor Wavinya Ndeti has, at last, yielded to mounting public pressure and initiated payment—albeit partially—to Movata Fashions & Design.
The firm supplied Inspectorate uniforms, a contract that had long become symbolic of the county’s deepening supplier payment crisis.
A letter dated March 26, 2026, addressed to Senator Agnes Kavindu Muthama by the County Secretary Dr Muya Ndambuki confirms that the county has processed a partial payment of KSh 10 million to the firm that is demanding KSh 19 million.
The communication outlines a familiar justification: delays attributed to late delivery within the financial year, rollover of the bill into the 2024/2025 cycle, and adherence to a First-In, First-Out (FIFO) payment policy tied to budgetary approvals. FIFO is referred to in the county whenever suppliers push for deliberately delayed payments.
Delays are believed to occur when suppliers decline to pay bribes to officials who control tenders, budgets and finances.
But behind the bureaucratic language lies a more compelling reality—one that speaks to pressure, crisis, and selective responsiveness.
The payment comes in the wake of a widely reported assault on businessman and comedian Sammy Kioko, who is understood to have co-funded the uniforms contract. Initially, Governor Wavinya and her Finance Minister Catherine Mutanu denied knowledge of the comedian,saying he appeared nowhere in their list of dealers.
The incident, which sparked outrage across Machakos County, appears to have jolted the administration into action after months of denials, inaction and mounting frustration among suppliers.
For many observers, the timing is hardly coincidental.Movata Designs’ payment is now seen less as a routine settlement and more as a reluctant concession—an administration caving under the weight of public scrutiny and the political cost of perceived indifference.
The fact that the governor herself has been seen publicly donning the very uniforms supplied under the disputed contract only sharpens the optics of the delay and exposes shamelessness and indignity of wearing unpaid for clothing.
Yet even as this payment was processed, it opens a broader and more troubling question: why Movata, and why now and how many more are on the waiting list?
Dozens of contractors across Machakos remain unpaid, some for years, their businesses crippled and livelihoods strained. Many have not enjoyed the visibility—or the misfortune—of a violent incident to force the county’s hand. Others, insiders quietly allege, have watched as select firms, including those perceived to have close ties to the administration, receive prompt payment with little delay.
Among those frequently cited is Hayati Contractors, which is said to enjoy a markedly smoother payment pipeline—raising uncomfortable questions about equity, transparency, and the integrity of the county’s procurement and payment systems.
The county government maintains that all payments are subject to budgetary constraints and structured scheduling. But the emerging pattern confirms a system that is reactive rather than principled—one that moves not necessarily by policy, but by pressure.
For Governor Wavinya, the partial payment to Movata Designs certainly offers temporary political relief.
But it also reinforces a damaging narrative: that in Machakos, justice for suppliers is neither automatic nor assured—it must be demanded, amplified, and, in some cases, paid for in crisis.
The spotlight now shifts to the long queue of unpaid contractors still waiting and the quest for justice for Kioko and others who were assaulted by known operatives within Wavinya’s administration.
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