BY NDUGU ABISAI (Daily Nation)
The firm burns plastics in a controlled, oxygen-free environment, and out comes synthetic oil—cleaner, lower in sulfur, and less toxic than the furnace oils and industrial diesel that factories depend on.
Tucked away in the dusty Makongeni area in Thika, a factory is redefining how Kenya manages its plastic waste. Here, tonnes of discarded plastic that would have choked rivers and littered roadsides reincarnate—not as your usual bottles or buckets— common with plastic recyclers, but as fuel. The man behind this daring experiment is Rajesh Kent, Managing Director of Alternative Energy Systems Limited (AESL).
When he speaks about waste and energy, he speaks with the precision of experienced scientist. He also speaks with the urgency of a man who knows that Kenya’s environmental clock is ticking. “The origin of Alternative Energy Systems came from a desire to tackle the plastic pollution challenge that Kenya was facing,” says he as he goes back to where it all started.
Rajesh’s story however, doesn’t start here. Trained in agriculture, his first business was exporting fruits and vegetables to Europe, but in 2006, British Petroleum came calling, asking him to lead a proof-of-concept project on Jatropha oil for biodiesel. It was here, knee-deep in oil pulp, that an existential question that changed his life stared at him: what do we do with the waste? That puzzle introduced him to the waste-to-energy sector. He discovered that the stubborn and ubiquitous plastics could be transform from being menace to a potential energy source.
“Plastic is nothing but long hydrocarbon chains,” he explains. “Through pyrolysis, we crack those chains back into shorter chains—basically taking plastic back to the petroleum it was made from.”
In simple terms, Rajesh burns plastics in a controlled, oxygen-free environment, and out comes synthetic oil— cleaner, lower in sulfur, and less toxic than the furnace oils and industrial diesel that factories depend on. For years, Kenya was haunted by the black plastic bags from kiosks and supermarkets. They fluttered on fences, clogged drainage systems, and floated in rivers. These plastics, Rajesh is quick to point out, “cannot be mechanically recycled.”
AESL found a way to give them a second life. Every day, 12 tonnes of plastic are collected from dump sites in Kiambu and Nairobi, brought to the Thika plant, sorted, shredded, dried, and fed into the pyrolysis chambers. Out comes a golden-brown oil that keeps factories running. But this, Rajesh says, is not just a story about technology. It is a story about people. AESL works with community-based organisations, women’s groups, and youth collectives. A waste picker who once earned coins by hawking bottles can now pocket between Sh600 and Sh800 a day. That’s higher than Kenya’s minimum wage for casual workers.
“A lot of the ladies can tend to their children at home, come to work on flexi hours, and still make a decent income.” But every revolution has its struggles. For Rajesh, the biggest hurdle is cost. His oil is more expensive than petroleum. This is the paradox of recycling: while the feedstock (plastic waste) may appear cheap, the processing costs are not. Sorting, drying, shredding, and running the high-temperature plant consumes money. “Most companies are not willing to have an impact on their bottom line simply because it’s an environmental benefit,” he laments.
Yet, some corporates with strong green credentials, such as his main customers for the oil— Brookside Dairies, have become loyal customers. Others, fixated on cheaper fuel, remain out of reach. Still, Rajesh is hopeful. Kenya’s new Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR) directive, which obliges manufacturers to take responsibility for the waste they generate, could tilt the balance. If enforced, it will not just be about profit margins but also about brand survival. Kenya has a history of bold environmental moves—the plastic bag ban of 2017 being a prime example.
Rajesh acknowledges that the legal framework is strong, citing the Waste Management Bill passed recently. The challenge, as always, is implementation. “The laws and the policies are already in existence. Now what and connected Rajesh to potential investors. “KCIC helped us understand the circular economy and how to be investor ready. Without them, we’d still be in the dark.”
One fundamental truth Rajesh shares is that recyclers in Kenya are still treated as part of the informal sector. There is no structured national waste collection system. Instead, hundreds of small-scale collectors roam neighbourhoods, charging Sh50 or Sh100, but with no guarantee that the waste ends up where it should. This fragmented system makes AESL work harder. Sorting through contaminated waste, removing soil, stones, and metals, adds another layer of cost. Rajesh still insists on working with local collectors, not against them, because they are the heartbeat of Kenya’s recycling story. When AESL was setting up, Rajesh went shopping for machinery. Europe’s plants cost upwards of €35 million—out of reach for a startup. His solution was found in India: proven technology at a fraction of the cost.
Looking at AESL one could say that the Thika plant hums with Indian-built machines, fed by Kenyan hands, solving a global problem in a very local way. Where does he go from here? Rajesh is not limiting himself to Thika. The dream is to build collection centers in seven counties, making plastic waste not just a nuisance to be discarded, but a resource to be harvested. Kenya is not yet ready for a full embrace of recycled fuel according to him. But readiness, as he believes, is something you build—not something you wait for.
AESL story is three-pronged. It is about what happens when an entrepreneur dares to look at Kenya’s waste problem not as a curse but as an opportunity. It is about giving dignity to waste pickers, relief to rivers, and hope to industries.
“We are taking what was a menace and turning it into something useful,” Rajesh concludes. “If that is not impact, then what is?”
Kenya generates about 480,000 tonnes of plastic waste annually, according to UNEP. Much of it ends up in landfills or the ocean. If initiatives like AESL scale up, that mountain of waste could power industries, create jobs, and clean the environment. The future Rajesh dreams of is one where factories in Nairobi, Eldoret, and Kisumu run not on imported fuel but on homegrown, recycled energy. A future where a young woman in Kiambu does not see plastic waste as trash but as her ticket to a dignified livelihood. For now, AESL is just one plant in Thika. But every big shift begins with one stubborn idea— and one entrepreneur willing to bet his life on it.
