H-1B Visa: African Holders in Peril

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A New Era of Uncertainty for Kenyan Workers in the United States

On a cold November morning in 2020, Riq Junior, a 26-year-old nurse from Nairobi, stood at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport, holding his mother’s hand. His suitcase was packed, and his documents were clutched tightly. Inside his passport was an H-1B visa, a coveted work permit that many young Kenyans dream of but few manage to secure. His mother placed a small Bible in his bag, saying, “You will need this more than anything.” This was not a trip for study or vacation; it was a journey to work.

Riq had studied nursing at the University of Nairobi and worked in a crowded hospital for several years. He faced long shifts, patients crammed into wards, and broken equipment. The pay was insufficient, and he often worried about paying for his younger sister’s school fees. Yet, he never stopped dreaming of a better future. That future, he believed, was in America. When a hospital in Texas offered to sponsor his H-1B visa, he could hardly believe it. “The H-1B is the fastest way to get to the US if you want to work,” he says. “That’s how I got my chance.”

He arrived in the US during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, when President Donald Trump had imposed temporary visa bans and rules were changing rapidly. Riq feared the opportunity would disappear before he even boarded his flight. “It felt like luck; like the door had opened for me at the very last second,” he recalls.

Upon arrival in New York, he stepped out into the freezing air, wide-eyed and overwhelmed. He moved to Texas, where he shared a small apartment with other Kenyan nurses. His first assignment was in a busy hospital ward, caring for patients recovering from surgery. “The work environment shocked me,” he says. Back home in Nairobi, he was used to seeing three or four patients squeezed into a single bed space. In Texas, every patient had their own room. Machines beeped steadily, and when he pressed a button for assistance, help came quickly. “I couldn’t believe it. It felt like a different world.”

He worked hard, often taking extra shifts. At the end of each month, he sent money back home. His mother used the money to renovate their small rural home, and his younger sister stayed in school. For the first time, he felt he was building a solid future.

But five years later, Riq no longer feels so secure. The dream that once felt so close now looks like it could slip away. In September 2025, the Trump administration announced a new rule that shook immigrant communities around the world. Washington issued a proclamation introducing a fee for H-1B visa petitions filed after September 21, 2025. From that point on, any company filing for an H-1B visa for a foreign worker would have to pay a one-time fee of $100,000.

According to the White House, the policy was meant to stop “abuse” of the H-1B system. The government claimed American workers were being displaced by foreigners, and this fee was designed to discourage that. However, critics strongly disagree. Business leaders and immigration experts warn that such a high fee would make it almost impossible for companies to sponsor skilled workers from abroad. They note that America’s hospitals, technology firms, and research labs all rely heavily on international talent, and this rule would cut that flow.

After public outcry, officials clarified that the fee would not apply to existing visa holders or to renewals. People such as Riq are technically safe. Yet this reassurance does little to calm nerves. The atmosphere in his workplace has already changed, he says. Managers quietly talk about cutting down on international hires; job postings that once welcomed foreign workers now add a line: “US applicants preferred.” “I feel pressed,” Riq admits. “It’s like standing on a boat that’s slowly sinking, and you don’t know if you’ll make it to shore.”

He worries most about his younger cousin, who has just finished nursing school in Nairobi and hoped to follow the same path he took. “Who can pay one hundred thousand dollars just for a visa?” Riq asks. “Not us. Not Kenyan families.” Still, he clings to hope. “I believe they won’t touch us who are already here. Maybe it’s politics, maybe it’s just talk. I want to think my future is still safe.”

But for others, the rule is like a closed door. The H-1B visa has been one of the most common ways for skilled professionals, such as nurses, doctors, engineers, and tech workers, to find jobs in America. Now, with the fee so high, most US companies will not want to sponsor workers from countries such as Kenya. Entry-level jobs, which young graduates used to count on, will be the first to go. This means fewer chances for Kenyan talent to get their foot in the door.

Still, many who had admission letters from US universities have seen their visa interviews delayed or cancelled after the State Department froze student visa appointments earlier in the year. Some are still waiting for interview dates, missing classes and even entire semesters. For others, the dream of studying in America is quickly fading.

The announcement of the $100,000 fee was not the only change. The US government has also introduced stricter visa rules. Applicants are now required to share their social media handles. That means an old Facebook post or tweet could be used as a reason for denial. For many Kenyans, this is a frightening thought.

Kiprono Kipleron, a 29-year-old Kenyan student in Ohio, is studying for a PhD in data science. His plan had been to graduate, then use the Optional Practical Training programme to work for a year, and finally apply for an H-1B visa. That pathway now looks uncertain. Kiprono managed to get into the US before the visa freeze, but he feels trapped. His professors warn that companies are less likely to hire international graduates because of the costs and complications. He spends long nights at his desk, coding and running data models, but his mind keeps wandering. “I don’t know if my PhD will be enough anymore,” he admits. “It feels like living in a waiting room with no clear answers.”

His biggest fear is finishing his degree only to be told he cannot stay. “Every day I ask myself, will I get a job when I graduate? Will my visa be renewed? Or will I have to pack my bags and go back home?” Kiprono says he feels frustrated and confused by the way the US government treats foreigners. He went to America with big dreams to study hard, build a great career, and contribute to the tech industry, but now he feels those dreams are being blocked by rules that seem unfair.

The uncertainty has made him anxious. Every new announcement about visa changes makes him worry about what will happen next. He admits that he is even scared to share too many details about himself on social media. “You never know who is watching,” he says. “Sometimes I fear that if I speak too openly, it could affect my visa. It’s like living with a target on your back.”

For Rachael Ayuka, the problem is different but just as heavy. She is 34 years old, working as a data analyst in San Francisco. She has built a stable life, a good job, a modest apartment, friends who feel like family. Her H-1B visa is valid, and renewals are not affected by the new fee. But she is afraid to leave the country. The fear does not stop there. Many Kenyans in the US are now too scared to travel back home to visit family, worried that they may not be allowed back in. Even those with valid visas are anxious because rules are changing quickly, and no one feels safe.

Rachael says, “I want to see my parents, but I am afraid if I go, I may never return.” Her parents still live in Eldoret, and she has not seen them in nearly three years. She dreams of visiting, even just for a week, but she worries that if she leaves she might not be allowed to come back. “What if my paperwork gets stuck at the embassy, or a new rule comes in overnight?” she wonders.

Her Indian colleagues tell similar stories. Some have refused to travel at all. Even the Indian government has expressed concerns, warning that the policy could break up families. So, Rachael stays put. She turns down conferences abroad, she avoids leaving the US, even though she longs to see her parents. “I live with my bags half-packed,” she says. “It’s like being welcome and unwelcome at the same time.” “I love my job, I love the life I’ve built here, but every day, I wonder if it will all disappear with the stroke of a pen.”

Meanwhile, Washington has introduced a registration fee for individuals seeking to apply for the United States Diversity Visa Program, commonly known as the Green Card Lottery, a policy shift that could have significant implications for African applicants. The US Department of State has announced that starting October 16, 2025, individuals applying for the Green Card Lottery will be required to pay $1 electronic registration fee. This marks the first time applicants will be charged to enter the annual programme. Every entrant must pay $1 at the time of online registration on the official US government website. Payment must be made through an authorised government portal, according to the State Department.

According to the State Department, the fee is intended to distribute the administrative costs of running the lottery more fairly among all registrants, rather than placing the expense solely on the small group selected to proceed in the visa process.

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