Wealth may open gates, but legacy builds bridges. In a region brimming with talent, dreams, and untapped potential, the richest legacy East Africa’s elite can leave is not what they build for themselves – but what they build with everyone else.
By Eliud Waswa
For years, high net-worth individuals (HNWIs) in East Africa were seen as distant elites – untouchable business tycoons living in gated compounds, jetting off to Dubai or London, and mostly detached from the communities around them. But that image is shifting. At least, that’s the hope.
With over 5,400 millionaires now calling the region home – 3,300 in Kenya alone – there is a growing conversation about whether the region’s wealthiest can (or should) be doing more to help tackle the persistent poverty and inequality around them. The potential is huge. The paradox? Even bigger.
According to the 2024 Africa Wealth Report by Henley & Partners, East Africa’s HNWIs control an estimated $16.5 billion in combined wealth. Yet more than 70% of people in the region still live on less than $5.50 a day.
That’s not just uncomfortable – it is a flashing red signal. So what gives? Why aren’t more of East Africa’s wealthiest visibly investing in the communities they came from?
A few are leading the way
To be fair, a handful of East Africa’s elite are stepping up.
In Kenya, Ken Njoroge, co-founder of Cellulant, has gone beyond business and started backing young agri-tech and fintech founders. His goal? Help build the kind of economic systems that include small farmers and young entrepreneurs—people often left out of traditional development.
In Tanzania, Mohammed Dewji, CEO of MeTL Group, has committed to giving away at least half his fortune. His Mo Dewji Foundation supports education, healthcare, and sports—funding thousands of surgeries, building schools, and sponsoring youth programmes.
Rwanda’s Paula Ingabire, though not a typical business tycoon (she is the Minister of ICT and Innovation), is using her influence to push for rural digital inclusion, helping expand coding academies and smart classrooms in villages often ignored by the tech boom.
Ethiopia’s Bethlehem Tilahun Alemu, founder of soleRebels, is proving that business success and social impact can go hand in hand. She’s built a globally recognized brand rooted in sustainable manufacturing, all while creating jobs in her local community.
Uganda’s Ashish Thakkar has invested in mentorship and small business training through the Mara Foundation, though his presence on the ground has waned in recent years.
And no conversation about philanthropy in East Africa would be complete without mentioning Kenya’s Manu Chandaria. A stalwart of business and giving, Chandaria has spent decades quietly but consistently funding hospitals, education programs, and peace initiatives through the Chandaria Foundation. For him, philanthropy isn’t a public relations strategy – it is a moral obligation. His approach is a powerful reminder that giving doesn’t have to be flashy to be transformative.
These are the exceptions. Bright spots in what is still a patchy, elite-led social investment landscape.
The bigger picture
The hard truth? Most of East Africa’s HNWIs remain quiet on philanthropy. Many build empires in banking, construction, logistics, or retail – but give little back in visible, scalable, or sustained ways.
Why? Some cite lack of trust in NGOs or government partnerships. Others prefer to give quietly, or are not sure where to start. And a few just don’t see it as their role.
But this disconnect has consequences. According to the UN Research Institute for Social Development (UNRISD), “Inequalities are one of today’s greatest challenges, obstructing poverty reduction and sustainable development. Such disparities are catalysed by elite capture of economic and political power… which undermines social, environmental and economic sustainability, and fuels poverty, insecurity, crime and xenophobia.”
In other words, when wealth becomes too concentrated and does not filter down, everyone loses: rich and poor alike.
Can the wealthy help build a fairer future?
Let’s be clear: the region’s wealthy don’t need to save the world. But they do have unique resources that could move the needle. Their capital can de-risk bold ideas. Their networks can draw in global partners. Their credibility can help scale local solutions.
Take youth unemployment, one of the region’s ticking time bombs. A single well-funded innovation hub or skills fund, backed by a few high-net-worth investors, could launch hundreds of local businesses and transform regional economies. But that requires long-term thinking, not one-off donations.
And this is not just about charity. It is about shared prosperity. When more people have income, markets grow. When health systems work, productivity rises. When girls go to school, communities thrive. Everyone benefits.
What’s missing?
Even well-meaning elites often find the landscape difficult to navigate. Tax systems are clunky. Legal structures for philanthropic foundations are underdeveloped. And there’s little government incentive to encourage long-term giving.
As Houghton, puts it, “the absence of clear and supportive tax frameworks across many African countries acts as a deterrent to philanthropy. Making the case for tax law reforms is not just about giving more; it’s about creating an enabling fiscal environment for sustained community investment.”
Without these enabling policies, much of the region’s philanthropic potential remains untapped.
We also need a mindset shift – from philanthropy as a personal favour, to philanthropy as a shared responsibility. From legacy-building through luxury, to legacy-building through long-term social value.
So, what now?
The region does not need saviours. It needs collaborators. Builders. People with power and money who are willing to get involved – not just in economic development, but in social transformation.
We know it is possible. The early trailblazers are showing the way. But the window for real impact is narrowing. Rising inequality is already stoking tensions. If the region’s elite don’t act now – with boldness, clarity, and consistency – future generations may inherit more instability than opportunity.
The question is not whether East Africa’s wealthy can help shape a more inclusive future.
It’s whether they will – and what kind of legacy they want to leave behind.
The writer is a governance expert based in Nairobi, Kenya
