Bungoma Court Adjourns Graft Case Against Former Nzoia Sugar Company Boss

On August 13, 2025, the Bungoma Anti-Corruption Court was set to hear what could have been one of the final and most decisive sessions in the long-running graft case against former Nzoia Sugar Company Managing Director, Godfrey Sifuna Wanyonyi, and seven of his former senior colleagues. The case, which dates back to alleged financial misconduct in 2018, has for years been a point of national interest, not only because of the stature of the accused but also due to the implications it has for Kenya’s troubled sugar sector. However, instead of the much-anticipated testimonies from the last two witnesses for the prosecution, the hearing came to an abrupt halt after one of the accused, company secretary Benson Khwatenge Wafula, failed to appear in court due to illness. His legal team presented medical documents to explain his absence, prompting Senior Principal Magistrate Josephat Gichimu to postpone proceedings until October 22, 2025.

The delay is yet another twist in a legal journey that has been marked by slow progress, adjournments, and procedural hurdles. For many observers, it represents the frustrating reality of Kenya’s judicial process in complex corruption cases—justice is often a marathon, not a sprint. In this instance, the marathon began when the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission (EACC) launched investigations into financial irregularities at Nzoia Sugar Company. The probe uncovered what investigators allege was a deliberate and coordinated plan by senior management to defraud the company of Sh11 million. The accusations are serious: conspiracy to commit an economic crime, abuse of office, and fraudulent acquisition of public property. Eight people stand accused: former MD Godfrey Sifuna Wanyonyi; company secretary Benson Khwatenge Wafula; chief cashier John Wanyonyi Wekesa; cashier Kenneth Onyango Omwago; internal auditor Benson Sitati Wakhungu; auditor Robert Vincent Juma; administrator Kenneth Wafula Wanjala, known as Mukombozi; and clerk Juliet Ng’ang’a.

The charges suggest that the alleged fraud was not an isolated act by a single rogue official but a multi-layered scheme involving multiple roles within the company’s management structure. According to the prosecution, the accused colluded to authorize irregular payments, sign off on procurement deals that grossly inflated prices, and approve payments for goods and services that were never delivered. Such schemes are depressingly familiar in Kenya’s parastatal sector, where weak oversight and entrenched patronage networks have, in the past, allowed similar financial mismanagement to go unchecked. Nzoia Sugar Company, a state-owned miller based in Bungoma County, is a critical player in Western Kenya’s economy, providing jobs for hundreds of employees and livelihoods for thousands of sugarcane farmers. Allegations of such large-scale fraud not only tarnish its reputation but also undermine the already fragile trust farmers and workers have in the institution.

For the people of Bungoma and the surrounding cane-growing regions, the outcome of this trial carries real stakes. Over the years, Nzoia Sugar’s financial troubles—compounded by debts, operational inefficiencies, and competition from cheap sugar imports—have often been linked, at least in public perception, to mismanagement at the top. Delayed salaries for workers, interruptions in milling operations, and late payments to farmers have all been recurring problems. If the allegations against the accused are proven true, it would mean that funds that could have sustained operations, paid wages, and stabilized the company were instead diverted for personal gain. Conversely, if the accused are found innocent, it will raise difficult questions about the thoroughness of the EACC’s investigation and whether public resources were spent pursuing a case that lacked merit.

The August 13 hearing was supposed to feature testimony from two crucial figures: EACC detective Abraham Kemboi, the lead investigator in the case, and former Nzoia MD Saul Wasilwa, who succeeded Wanyonyi after his tenure. Their accounts are expected to link the documentary evidence gathered by investigators to specific actions and decisions made by the accused. In anti-corruption cases, such testimony often serves as the final step in weaving together the narrative for the court—showing how money moved, who authorized what, and where accountability lies. The absence of one accused person derailed this process for now, but it also underscores an important principle: in criminal trials, the accused must be present to hear and respond to the case against them, unless the court rules otherwise. This is a cornerstone of due process, though it can sometimes be at odds with the public’s desire for swift resolution.

The history of Kenya’s sugar sector provides important context for understanding why this case resonates so deeply. For decades, sugar millers—especially state-owned ones like Nzoia, Mumias, Chemelil, and Sony—have been plagued by a combination of market challenges and internal corruption. While global sugar prices fluctuate and competition from imports is fierce, the biggest wounds have often been self-inflicted. Inflated procurement contracts, ghost suppliers, poor record-keeping, and outright theft have hollowed out once-thriving companies. Government attempts to reform the sector, whether through privatization drives, debt write-offs, or managerial shake-ups, have had mixed results at best. Without strong enforcement of laws and tangible consequences for malfeasance, there is a persistent fear that corruption remains an entrenched part of the system.

The Nzoia Sugar case, therefore, is more than just a local court battle; it is being closely watched as a test of Kenya’s ability to hold powerful individuals in state enterprises accountable. If the prosecution secures convictions, it could signal a stronger era of corporate governance and oversight. It might encourage more whistleblowers to come forward and give confidence to reform efforts. On the other hand, if the case collapses or drags on indefinitely, it risks reinforcing public cynicism about the fight against corruption, confirming the suspicion that powerful insiders can evade justice through legal delays and procedural maneuvers.

The adjournment to October 22, 2025, now looms as a critical date. The remaining witness testimonies will be decisive, after which the defense will have its turn to present its case. The defense teams are expected to challenge the credibility of the prosecution’s witnesses, dispute the authenticity or interpretation of financial records, and argue that the transactions in question were legitimate business decisions rather than criminal acts. It is also possible they will attempt to shift responsibility away from the accused, perhaps to lower-level staff or even to systemic flaws in the company’s processes.

Public reaction to the adjournment has been mixed. Some citizens, particularly those with direct ties to the sugar industry, express frustration at what they see as yet another delay in a case that has dragged on for too long. Others, particularly legal commentators, emphasize the importance of following procedure to the letter, arguing that any deviation could jeopardize the legitimacy of the eventual verdict. In the media, the case has received sustained coverage, with news outlets often framing it as emblematic of the broader struggle to clean up Kenya’s parastatals. On social media, users have debated whether the court should have proceeded in the absence of the ill accused or whether the postponement was unavoidable.

As October approaches, there is a palpable sense that the case is reaching its most consequential phase. The testimonies of the final two prosecution witnesses could either strengthen the state’s argument or leave enough doubt for the defense to exploit. After that, it will be a matter of closing submissions, judicial deliberation, and eventually, a verdict that will either vindicate the prosecution’s years-long effort or deal it a blow. Whichever way it goes, the judgment will echo far beyond the courtroom in Bungoma. It will be a message—either that corruption in Kenya’s public enterprises can be tackled decisively, or that the cycle of accusation, delay, and inconclusive endings continues unbroken.

For now, the case remains suspended in uncertainty, the courtroom files tucked away until October. The farmers who supply Nzoia Sugar, the employees who keep its machinery running, and the taxpayers who ultimately foot the bill for mismanagement are all waiting for a resolution. The hope is that when the court finally reconvenes, the process will move forward without further delay, allowing justice—whatever form it takes—to finally be served. Until then, the Bungoma graft case remains a stark reminder of how deeply governance and accountability issues in Kenya’s sugar sector are intertwined, and how the pursuit of justice is often a slow, painstaking endeavor in which every adjournment matters.