By Anchor Writers
A quiet public notice published this week may have marked the end of one of the most recognizable names in Kenya’s technology and infrastructure landscape.
In a formal announcement, the institution previously known as Konza Technopolis Development Authority (KoTDA) notified the public that it has officially changed its name to Technopolis Development Authority (TDA) following the enactment of the Technopolis Act, 2026.
The notice, signed by Chief Executive Officer John Paul Okwiri, states that the change follows presidential assent to the new law and reflects an expanded mandate under a new legal framework. Existing contracts, assets, liabilities and operations remain unaffected.
The Notice did not indicate the name of what is known as Konza Technopolis will be.
Yet beyond the bureaucratic language lies a deeper story — one that stretches back more than a decade and touches on some of the most contentious questions about land, development and historical memory in Kenya.
The disappearance of the name “Konza” from the institution’s official title completes a journey that began long before the first roads, office blocks and data centres emerged along the Nairobi-Mombasa highway.
For many local residents, the land on which Kenya’s flagship smart city sits was never simply “Konza.” It was Malili.
The vast tract belonged to members of Malili Ranch, a cooperative society formed by local farmers who had pooled resources to acquire land in the area.
Long before the national government’s vision of a futuristic technology city was conceived, the ranch represented the aspirations and investments of thousands of ordinary wananchi.
When government plans for a technology city gained momentum, acquisition of the land became mired in controversy with State officials falling over one another to cut deals and rob ordinary farmers.
Questions emerged over how the transactions were conducted, who benefited, whether members received fair value, and the role played by politically connected individuals and land brokers.
The resulting disputes generated years of bitterness and litigation, with some ranch members claiming they had been shortchanged in deals that transformed relatively remote grazing land into one of the most strategic parcels of real estate in the country.
As controversy intensified, the name “Malili” increasingly became associated with allegations of irregularities and political intrigue surrounding the acquisition process.
It was during this period that the branding of the project shifted decisively toward “Konza.”
Officially, Konza referred to the broader geographical area and the emerging technology city itself. But critics argued that the change also had the effect of distancing the ambitious national project from the uncomfortable debates surrounding Malili Ranch and the circumstances under which the land had changed hands.
The rebranding proved remarkably successful.
Over the years, “Konza” became synonymous with Kenya’s Silicon Savannah vision. The name appeared in government policy papers, international investment forums, infrastructure plans and diplomatic presentations. For many Kenyans, Konza became the shorthand for the country’s aspirations to become a regional technology hub.
The original story of Malili faded into the background.
Now, with the authority itself dropping “Konza” from its official identity altogether, another layer of that history appears to be closing.
The irony is difficult to miss.
A project that once shed the name Malili amid controversy has now itself shed the name Konza.
The institution insists the move is purely administrative, arising from an expanded national mandate that extends beyond the development of a single technopolis. Under the new law, the Authority is expected to support and oversee the broader technopolis ecosystem across Kenya rather than focus exclusively on Konza.
From that perspective, the new name reflects a strategic evolution.
But names carry power. They shape public memory and determine which stories endure and which gradually disappear from the national consciousness.
For residents who remember the fierce battles over Malili Ranch, the latest change may revive questions that have never been fully answered. For younger Kenyans, it may prompt curiosity about how one of the country’s most celebrated development projects came to occupy land whose acquisition remains a subject of debate in local communities.
Today, the physical city remains where it has always been — rising from the semi-arid plains along Mombasa Road, its buildings and infrastructure standing as symbols of Kenya’s digital ambitions.
Yet the institution responsible for guiding that vision will henceforth operate under a different banner.
The era of Konza Technopolis Development Authority is over.
The Technopolis Development Authority has arrived.
Whether the change represents merely a legal adjustment or the final chapter in a long and complicated story about land, power and memory is a question that history may ultimately answer.
To the locals, Konza lives.
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