The sudden KOKO fuel shortage in Nairobi has led to a widespread panic among low-income households in the city’s informal settlements, where women and street food vendors are scouring neighbourhoods for refill points that have mysteriously closed overnight due to a shortage of the rare gel.
Once a lifeline for affordable cooking in places like Kibera, Mathare, and Korogocho, among other slums, KOKO’s clean ethanol-based gel fuel has become as elusive as a rainy day in December, leaving thousands wondering if the popular firm has hit a supply snag or simply abandoned its core market.
Vendors who rely on KOKO for their daily jiko operations report queues stretching blocks at the few remaining stations, only to be turned away empty-handed. “We’ve been trekking from Kibera to Ngara since Monday, carrying empty canisters like refugees,” said Fatuma Achieng, a mama mboga in Laini Saba whose vibuyu stall has halved output without fuel.
“KOKO was our secret weapon, cheap and no smoke. Now we’re back to charcoal, coughing and paying double.” Similar stories pour in from Mukuru and Dandora, where the fuel’s deep roots in slum economies made it indispensable for everything from ugali to chapati.
KOKO Networks, the innovative firm behind the smart cooking solution, launched in 2017 as a game-changer for urban poor communities. With over 780,000 users nationwide, the system uses app-linked refill stations to dispense measured gel portions, cutting costs by up to 60 percent compared to LPG or firewood while slashing deforestation and indoor air pollution.
Nairobi’s informal settlements adopted it en masse, drawn by the pay-as-you-go model via M-Pesa and the safety of flameless stoves. “It was revolutionary,” recalled environmental activist Jane Wanjiku from the Green Belt Movement. “Families saved on health bills from smoke-related illnesses, and women spent less time foraging for wood.”
But whispers of trouble have circulated for months. Insiders point to a perfect storm: global ethanol price spikes tied to Brazil’s drought-hit harvests, coupled with Kenya’s lingering forex shortages that have choked imports.
A source within the Energy and Petroleum Regulatory Authority, speaking anonymously, confirmed that KOKO’s supply chain relies heavily on imported bioethanol, and recent EPRA audits flagged delays in vessel clearances at Mombasa port.
“It’s not just KOKO; smaller alternative fuels are feeling the pinch,” the official said. “But their urban focus makes the shortage hit harder in slums where alternatives are scarce.”
Adding fuel to the fire, some users accuse the company of shifting priorities. KOKO has expanded into rural electrification and carbon credit schemes, securing multimillion-dollar deals with international donors like the World Bank. Critics argue this has diverted resources from urban refill networks.
“They started strong in Kibera with solar-powered stations, but now those points are padlocked,” complained a group of vendors.
EPRA’s latest fuel price review for November 15 to December 14, 2025, shows kerosene up slightly to 154.78 shillings per litre in Nairobi, but KOKO’s gel remains unregulated, theoretically cheaper at around 100 shillings per kilo equivalent.
Yet with stations dry, black-market refills have surged, peddled at inflated prices from makeshift depots in back alleys. Health experts warn this breeds risks: unverified batches could contain impurities, reigniting fire hazards the original product was designed to eliminate.
As the KOKO fuel shortage in Nairobi drags into its fifth day, community leaders are mobilising. Slum dwellers in Kayole have launched a WhatsApp network sharing rumoured refill spots. The episode shows Kenya’s fragile energy access for the urban underclass, where a single supply hiccup can unravel livelihoods built on the thinnest margins.
For now, Nairobi’s wamama na vibuyu navigate the chaos with resilience, bartering tips and sharing stoves. But as December’s chill sets in, the question lingers: will KOKO return as the hero it once was, or has this shortage exposed cracks in a model once hailed as the future of clean cooking?
