This is not the article I had planned to write this morning. But I woke up with a heavy heart and a myriad of questions. For starters, what is really happening in Africa. To be more specific, what is going on in Kenya? Is it just me, or is there a spike in violence everywhere you turn? Well, the numbers do not lie.
Kenya is reeling from a string of violent tragedies that have unfolded in quick succession. That is a fact we can no longer turn a blind eye to. Just last week alone, headlines have reported people burnt alive in their homes, spouses killing each other in acts of domestic rage and new graves unearthed in the coastal forests of Kilifi. These seem like isolated incidents that are random and unconnected, right? I can’t help but wonder though, are they truly random? Or is this the Chaos Theory at play, where what looks like disorder on the surface is, in fact, the outcome of hidden patterns and fragile systems collapsing?
One of the most chilling reminders of this fragility came once again from Shakahola, the coastal village still haunted by the memories of a doomsday cult that shocked the world in 2023. Last week investigators exhumed five more bodies and recovered scattered remains from shallow graves in Kilifi. What does this discovery that happened near the same grounds where more than 400 victims of the cult were buried reveal? As “pastor” mckenzie famously put it, kitakacho waramba hamkijui, or something along those lines. The truth is, Kenya has not yet come face to face with the scale of extremism and systemic failures that allowed such mass deaths to happen. Simply, we haven’t seen anything yet.
Away from the horrors of shakahola, everyday in Kenya brings with it acts of violence that are both sudden and chilling. A Kenya Defence Forces officer was stabbed to death while out on a morning jog in Nakuru. In Murang’a, a police sergeant was strangled by a fellow officer. Elsewhere in far away Isiolo, the life of a one-month-old infant was cut short in an act so cruel that I honestly cannot bring myself to write about it.
What are the numbers? In just two months of 2024, police recorded 339 murder cases across the country, a sharp increase from previous years (2 months vs 2 years!) Sadly, while talking statistics, we seem to forget that behind each number lies a face, a loved one and a community in shock. It is a reminder that violence is no longer confined to “crime-prone” pockets. As we speak we have crimes happening in spaces once thought ordinary like say; neighbourhood streets, workplaces, even our “sacred” homes. Heck, we have crimes happening in villages that were once communal and thought to be the safest places on earth.
If the chaos unfolding in Kilifi showed the dark power of cults, these street crimes reveal a fact none of us wants to admit; that violence in Kenya today does not have a face. It is no longer predictable like in the days of the Dandora gangs. I guess even the guys in Dandora are watching all these unfold with open jaws. As it stands, crime is as likely to come from a stranger with a knife as it is from someone in uniform or worse, from the very people meant to protect.
Mob Justice & Kisii Burning
In Metembe village, Kisii County, a family of five were dragged out by neighbours who had branded them murderers and lynched. Afterwards, their homes were set ablaze. As the rest of the world was waking up, six houses lay in ashes. All that was left for the villagers was the heavy smell of burning flesh and…. silence. Seriously kisii, are we in 1692 massachusetts, bringing people accused of witchcraft to trial and lynching them to death? At what point does this stop? Even the Salem witch trials lasted for less than a year….how come you have been doing this for centuries?
Remember, this was not an isolated act of rage. Kisii and neighbouring counties have seen a rise in similar incidents where suspected witches are hacked to death while their houses are torched as punishment for alleged crimes. Here, crowds take matters into their own hands without even engaging the police or courts. The rule of law is replaced by the law of the crowd, and all you need is a little suspicion. I have found myself wondering sometimes, how many of these people killed were innocent?
Honestly, at what point does this stop?
And who appointed you God that you now have the power of taking people’s lives in your hands?
What unfolded in Kisii was mob justice in its rawest, most brutal form.
Domestic Violence & Femicide: Even Our Homes Are Not Safe
If Mob justice shows what happens when communities lose faith in the state (although if we are being honest, when did these witch hunters ever engage the state?) femicide reveals what happens when violence moves into the most intimate spaces. In 2024 alone, at least 170 women were killed in Kenya, the highest figure on record, and nearly double the average of the previous years. Most of them were not killed by strangers in dark alleys but by the men closest to them. We are talking about husbands and boyfriends who turned homes into crime scenes.
These deaths are rarely quick or quiet. Women strangled, stabbed, bludgeoned; their names surfacing in headlines that have become disturbingly routine. And this right there is my biggest fear – how normalised these killings have become. Just another headline, that’s what. Between August and October of last year, nearly 100 women lost their lives in this way, sparking protests in Nairobi and other cities. Demonstrators carried placards reading “Stop Killing Us” , a plea that should be self-evident, but in Kenya today must be shouted in the streets.
Kenya’s women have not been quiet. From marches against femicide to grassroots self-defence classes, resistance is building. And yet, the bodies keep piling up and the question remains: how many more women must die before the country treats this as the national emergency it is? From where I stand it does look like the more things change, the more they stay the same (or in this case, become worse).
When Security Becomes the Threat
So now, mob justice reveals the failure of the state to protect and femicide exposes violence in our private spaces. What then, does extrajudicial killings show us?
The darkest face of the state itself.
Human rights groups have been documenting for the longest period how police and security agencies in Kenya are implicated in executions and enforced disappearances, particularly in informal settlements and in regions like the Coast and North Eastern. According to the report by the Kenyan Human Rights Commission, victims are often young men, branded as “criminals” or “terror suspects,” then killed or made to vanish without due process.
According to the Missing Voices Kenya, more than 130 people were killed by police in 2024, while dozens more remain unaccounted for after arrests. The victims – as expected – are disproportionately young men from poor and marginalized communities, often without the means to demand justice.
If only these killings were isolated acts of rogue officers…but they are not. They form part of a culture of impunity, where violence is treated as a tool of governance. Investigations are rare and prosecutions even rarer as families are left to search morgues, rivers and forests for missing loved ones.
If you look at it keenly and without bias, you realise that in this way, the state itself becomes both arbiter and executioner … .mirroring the same logic of mob justice it claims to condemn. We can’t help but ask, where then, is the difference between the government and the witch hunters?
Why Is Violence Rising? Unpacking the Triggers
What we are seeing in Kenya today is not random brutality but the outcome of intersecting crises. How did we get here?
First, there is the economic squeeze. Inflation, unemployment and the soaring cost of living have created fertile ground for despair and rage. The constant protests are a testament to this.
Second, we must look at the erosion of trust in institutions. Many Kenyans no longer believe that the police, courts or even local leaders can deliver justice. Can you blame them though? The aftermath of this erosion in trust is mob justice flourishing, while domestic violence and femicide thrive in a culture where reporting rarely leads to protection.
Third, there is the normalization of violence itself. Generations have grown up watching the state respond to protests with tear gas and bullets. They have witnessed communities settle disputes with fire and machetes and consumed sensational media coverage that blurs tragedy into spectacle. Violence is no longer shocking. In a country where the chief of state openly gave the go ahead for protesters to be shot in the legs, Violence is now expected. It is now normalised.
Finally, we cannot ignore the psychological toll. So much has been going on. We can blame the pandemic because that is where it all began (not really but, you know, we have to blame something.) Political instability and economic pressures have also left deep scars on mental health. Yet mental health services remain underfunded and stigmatized, leaving people to wrestle with rage and hopelessness alone.
What looks like random chaos is in fact a storm decades in the making, layered with poverty, weak governance, normalized brutality and unattended trauma. Ladies and gentlemen, chaos theory.
The Human Cost Behind the Numbers
Statistics may tell us how many lives were lost, but they cannot capture the silence of a child waiting for a mother who will never return or the hollow stare of a parent burying their son.
In Kisii, a family burned alive inside their home becomes a crime scene as well as a scar on an entire community. In Nairobi, a woman killed by her partner might be just another case of femicide, but we forget that she was a friend, a daughter and a colleague. That she was a mother.
Let us not even talk about the unearthed graves of Kilifi.
During one of our many talks with my sisters, one of them said something that stuck with me. She said, The real tragedy is not just that people are dying. It’s that we are learning how to live with death.
Where do we go from here? What is the way forward?
I keep mentioning the chaos theory throughout this article. The idea that small disturbances can trigger catastrophic outcomes means the reverse must also be true. Small interventions can restore balance. Kenya’s wave of violence is the product of choices, policies and silences. In the same way, it can be undone by different choices, stronger policies and louder voices.
Addressing the crisis requires a layered response:
Justice and Accountability.
Police reforms and an end to impunity must move from rhetoric to reality. We have been shouting for anyone that cares to listen about police reforms. It is now time to make the necessary steps. Every case, from Kilifi’s mass graves to Kisii’s family tragedy, deserves thorough investigation and prosecution.
Mental Health Support.
Many cases of intimate partner killings and community violence point to untreated trauma and poor access to psychosocial support. Expanding mental health services is no longer optional but urgent.
Community Interventions.
Churches, mosques and local organizations need to actively mediate conflicts. While at it, they should offer safe spaces for victims and challenge harmful norms that normalize violence.
Public Awareness and Media Responsibility.
Reporting should go beyond sensational headlines, highlighting not only the horror but also the root causes and possible solutions. All this reporting, but can we also educate the masses and try offering solutions?
Ultimately, violence is not just about crime but also about the kind of society we are building. If Kenyans begin to see brutality as normal, we risk losing lives and above all our collective humanity.
The question, then, is not whether these tragedies are isolated or connected. The question is whether we will choose to connect the dots and act before the pattern becomes irreversible.
We all agree that Kenya is standing at a crossroads. We can bury our heads in the sand and dismiss these killings as a string of bad weeks or we can confront them as symptoms of a deeper sickness eating at our society. Chaos theory reminds us that what looks like disorder may in fact be the logical result of neglect, inequality and silence.
