Why access to public procurement by youth still elusive amid the buzz

Public procurement is supposed to be the bridge between opportunity and empowerment. In theory, the government is the single biggest buyer of goods and services, and a significant portion of that pie is reserved for youth, women, and persons with disabilities under the Access to Government Procurement Opportunities (Agpo) programme.

But in practice, that bridge is guarded by red tape, insider networks, and systems that feel custom-built to frustrate.

Start with the basics. To even qualify for Agpo, youth must register a business, get a tax compliance certificate, open a bank account, obtain a CR12, secure letters from the registrar of companies, and ensure all statutory documents are updated.

For many, that alone is a month-long marathon, and in some counties, a costly one. Then the actual tenders demand audited accounts for two years, proof of past contracts, and experience in government work. That’s right, to get in, you already need to have been in.

And even if you make it that far, you quickly learn the game is not just about documents. It’s about who you know. Tender notices circulate informally, long before they’re publicly advertised.

Requirements are sometimes tailored to favour specific players. Youth often submit bids that are never opened or mysteriously vanish in the evaluation process. Many end up being subcontracted by the same big players who win everything, often at a fraction of the payment.

We’ve digitised the procurement process, yes.

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But access is not just about websites, it’s about transparency, trust, and leveling the playing field. Youth don’t lack ideas or registered companies. They lack the connections, capital, and credibility to break through the invisible walls. And those same procurement systems are riddled with inefficiency and scandal.

Inflated prices, ghost suppliers, and delayed payments dominate headlines, yet young people trying to enter the system are treated with suspicion, as if their inexperience is a threat to public funds, rather than a chance to reform a broken process.

Let’s be honest: most youth aren’t asking for handouts. They’re asking for fair process. For procurement officers to reply to emails. For evaluation criteria that actually favors innovation, not established monopolies.

For tenders small enough for youth to manage, not Sh20 million road projects awarded to politically connected companies.

Even when youth-led businesses get contracts, they’re often crushed by bureaucracy. Payments take months. Follow-ups are ignored. The very state that asks them to be job creators ends up being their biggest debtor. It’s demoralising, and it explains why so many promising entrepreneurs either pivot to the private sector or abandon procurement altogether.

The bigger issue here isn’t just missed opportunities. It’s erosion of trust. When young people believe tenders are reserved for the few, they stop trying. They stop registering businesses. They stop applying. And that kills the very spirit we claim to encourage.

Fixing this isn’t complicated. Make requirements realistic. Create a fast-track lane for first-time youth applicants. Split larger contracts into micro-tenders youth can handle. Automate feedback.

Publish who won what, and why. Pay on time. Offer mentorship through procurement hubs, not just manuals. And perhaps most importantly, treat youth as equal economic players, not as risks to be managed.

If we want youth-led businesses to thrive, we must unlock the gates to where the real money flows. Because right now, procurement isn’t just a process. It’s a gatekeeper. And until we make it work for the youth, all this talk of empowerment remains just that, talk.