Sheila Kariuki (left) of the Stream of Hope and Peace, with Mary Wangui Njuguna during a training session in Korogocho, Nairobi, in 2010.
On March 18, the Daily Nation published a bleak headline: “Elburgon: From timber hub to crime hotbed.” It painted a picture that has become all too familiar in Kenya—once-thriving towns and villages sinking into the mire of crime and violence.
For decades, Elburgon, tucked away in Nakuru County, prospered as a bustling timber town. Alongside neighbours like Molo, Makutano, and Maji Mazuri, it thrived in the 1990s, fuelled by a booming timber trade. Surrounded by fertile farmland, it served as one of Nakuru’s vital breadbaskets.
Then came the fall. Today, Elburgon is a byword for crime, violence, and hopelessness. The town now grabs headlines for grim reasons: cold-blooded murders, suicides, sexual assaults, and violent protests. Authorities seem trapped in a futile struggle to restore order. On 18 January, it hit the national spotlight after the savage killing of activist Richard Otieno, a vocal youth leader and fierce critic of the government. That same March 18, Kenyan media reported a fresh travel advisory from the US Embassy, cautioning American citizens against visiting swathes of Kenya due to escalating risks of crime, civil unrest, terrorism, banditry, and kidnapping. In Nairobi, Americans were urged to stay alert in notorious hotspots like Eastleigh and Kibera, where abductions and lawlessness run rife.
The embassy warned that violent crime could strike at any moment, with local police often powerless to respond effectively. Motorbike gangs, it noted, have honed the art of snatch-and-run thefts.
Abduction threats
Travellers were also advised to avoid Kenya’s border counties with Somalia—Garissa, Wajir, Mandera, and Tana River—as well as coastal regions north of Malindi, where terrorism and abduction threats loom large. On X, user Nichodemus Mwania captured Nairobi’s plight with stark brevity:
"If you live in Kariobangi, Kariadudu, Soweto, Kawangware, Mukuru slums, Kangemi, Huruma, Kayole, (or) Korogocho, you need to leave if you haven’t yet crossed paths with the criminal gangs terrorising residents there."
The rot has been festering for decades.
The Daily Nation not too long ago turned its gaze to Gachie, once a proud peri-urban village on Nairobi’s fringes. Then it became better known for its staggering crime rates, from petty theft to armed robbery. This was once the stomping ground of Simon Matheri Ikere, one of Kenya’s most notorious criminals, before police gunned him down in 2007.
But Nairobi isn’t alone in its descent.
In Mombasa, the once-relaxed coastal haven beloved by tourists is buckling under a rising tide of crime. Kisauni and Likoni have gained infamy for gang violence, drug trafficking, and daylight muggings. The romanticised Swahili city of winding alleys and turquoise seas has, for some, morphed into a place of dread.
Sheila Kariuki (centre) of the Stream of Hope and Peace, takes aged women through a training session in Korogocho, Nairobi,in 2010.
In Kisumu, the vibrant lakeside city famed for its energy, crime has surged, especially in informal settlements like Nyalenda and Obunga.
A thread weaves through these crumbling communities: Unemployment and despair: With opportunities dwindling, many young people turn to drugs and crime. Rapid urbanisation: Ballooning populations stretch resources beyond breaking point. Broken families: A fraying social fabric leaves a generation adrift. Climate change: Droughts and erratic rains drive people from ancestral lands into urban squalor. Election-related violence: Kenya’s recurring political upheavals leave displaced youth ripe for recruitment into crime.
This crime wave has also unleashed a chilling spike in violence against women. Over the past two years, Kenya has been rocked by a spate of horrific femicides—young women brutally murdered and dismembered. Elderly women fare no better; often targeted for sexual assault, they’re seen as easy prey by young thugs.
Amid the darkness, a story emerged on January 31 that was both unsettling and uplifting. Reuters ran the headline: “Kenya’s violence epidemic: Women train to fight back.” It took readers inside a church in Nairobi’s Korogocho slum, where elderly women were learning self-defence through a programme called Cucu Jikinge—Swahili for “Grandma, Protect Yourself.”
Esther Njeri Muiruri, 82, said the current surge in violence was as terrifying as anything she’d witnessed in her long life. Beatrice Mungai, 81, recalled how a young man once tried to break into her home. “I quickly started kicking him in his private parts—three times! He screamed, begging me not to kill him,” she said. “I told him: I warned you.”
This is Kenya today—grandmothers enrolling in self-defence classes to fend off violent intruders in their own homes. As they lace up their boots for karate lessons, the nation must confront a haunting question: how did it come to this?
The author is a journalist, writer, and curator of the “Wall of Great Africans”. Twitter: @cobbo3
