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Bridge Over Troubled Water: Unexpected Reactions to the BBI Report

12 min read.

Is the BBI a pact between the Luo and Kikuyu elite? If so, how will it impact the 2022 elections? DAUTI KAHURA uncovers surprising reactions to the BBI report among two of Kenya’s most politically influential ethnic communities.



Bridge Over Troubled Water: Unexpected Reactions to the BBI Report
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On November 27, 2019, the day the Building Bridges Initiative (BBI) document was being publicly launched at the Bomas of Kenya off Langata Road in Nairobi, I hopped into an Ongata Rongai-bound matatu from the Railway Station in central Nairobi. The talk of the town on that day was the much-hyped BBI report, so I knew the chatter in the matatu would be about the BBI.

When I told the tout that I was dropping off at the Galleria Mall because I was headed to Bomas, he said, “What a waste of public funds…what a useless report.” By his looks and demeanour, I could tell he was in his mid-20s, well-socialised, if not well-educated. “I’ve read parts of the report and to me that document is just about one thing: It is a ploy by Uhuru Kenyatta to self-preserve himself, as he also preserves his Kenyatta family dynasty. Everything else in that document is a fair game.”

“How will introducing new seats in the executive, solve our economic problems? Will the introduction of the position of Prime Minister solve the problem of electoral theft? Because that has been the problem since 2007. Let’s not beat about the bush: Three times the presidential elections have been stolen and three times, the defeated have overturned the victor’s win to rule Kenya by force of law and ethnic superiority. President Uhuru Kenyatta is looking for a back door to re-enter the executive so that he can continue protecting his family’s immense wealth.”

The conductor told me of how the report talked of uplifting the youth so that they can be self-sufficient and get gainful employment…“this is B…S… and a very tired cliché. The youth have become every politician’s moral guilt-trip: ‘We need to find our youth jobs or else we shall not have peace.’ So to have peace in the country, you create the position of the PM and his deputies and office of the Leader of Opposition.” In just about one and half years, said the tout, the BBI team had splashed the equivalent of Sh11billion to produce an uninspiring, not well-written small document that says nothing about everything that has not been said before.

“If the government was interested in improving the lives of the miserable youth, it would have disbursed that kind of money to the youths themselves. But this government cares so much about the youth, it spent all that money to write about how, if the youth are not catered for, Kenya will not have peace. They can do whatever it is they want to do with the report, I’m least interested in its shenanigans.” I did not ask the tout his name, but I had no doubt he knew his politics well.

The conductor reminded me of my friend Allan Mbuthia, a graduating agricultural economics student at the University of Nairobi (UoN). Mbuthia will be graduating this month with an upper second Bachelor’s degree. During most part of his student life, he worked on and off as a conductor on route 105 that plies the Kikuyu town route. The work has enabled him to pay his university fees. Brilliant and charming, I asked him whether he had read the BBI report. “Which report,” he retorted in his characteristic witticism. “I will be graduating in a few and I still got arrears I need to clear, I ain’t got time to waste on a useless report. Uhuru Kenyatta has no intentions of going anywhere…that’s what that report is about.”

The Bomas jamboree

At Bomas, the crowd inside the conference hall was controlled and carefully picked by the BBI mandarins to shore up support and shout down anybody whose views were contrary to the BBI cabal’s wishes. The crowd outside was not so orderly, so I opted to spend most of my time outside, where the erected white mega dome tents held close to 3,000 people.

Inside the hall, there was a carnival mood around the “BBI team”. The terrace corner was occupied by the “Embrace Team” – the “women’s league” of the BBI. Formed just after the BBI was constituted, it consists of female Jubilee Party politicians – current and former MPs and senators. It is ostensibly led by Ann Mumbi Waiguru, the governor of Kirinyaga County, and some of its leading lights include the Nairobi County speaker, the troubled Beatrice Elachi, who returned to her office two months ago after being impeached last September by a coterie of hostile MCAs.

“If the government was interested in improving the lives of the miserable youth, it would have disbursed that kind of money to the youths themselves. But this government cares so much about the youth, it spent all that money to write about how, if the youth are not catered for, Kenya will not have peace…”

The event’s master of ceremony was Junet Mohammed, the Suna East MP and Raila Odinga’s political son. The crescendo of his emceeing reached its zenith when, just before he invited Onesmus Kipchuma Murkomen to the stage, he took a jibe at the Jubilee Party’s internal squabbles, which I paraphrase: “Today’s a national event and therefore Jubilee Party members should put aside their differences and talk about what’s in front of us. They can resume their quarrels afterwards when we are done.”

The 42-year-old Suna East MP is a confidante of Raila: When Raila went to shake the hand of President Uhuru Kenyatta on March 9, 2018, he took Junet with him. “Raila trusts Junet like his son,” opined another equally trusted aide to Raila. “If Raila wants to send a special message to Uhuru, he gets hold of Junet. Likewise, if Uhuru wants to reach Raila confidentially and fast he looks for Junet.”

Junet’s jibe upset the Tanga Tanga wing of the Jubilee Party that was also inside the hall. So much so that when Murkomen stood to speak, he could hardly contain himself: he was boiling with rage and it had to take the intervention of Senator Yusuf Haji, the chairman of BBI, to calm him down and to ask the crowd to stop heckling him. When he spoke, he was shaking with anger, Murkomen said that it was unfortunate that the event had been turned into a partisan occasion. “We cannot have a master of ceremony who is biased and does not respect our party leaders,” he said.

Murkomen was probably upset because his boss William Ruto, the Deputy President, was being embarrassed and humiliated by none other than President Uhuru, who would laugh uproariously every time a snide remark was made about the Deputy President and/or his Tanga Tanga brigade. As Murkomen spewed his diatribe, Rachel Wambui Shebesh, the former Nairobi County Jubilee Party Women Rep, who was seated among the Embrace Team, stood to boo the senator. Acting as heckler-in-chief, Shebesh invited other members of the team and their sympathisers to jeer Murkomen. But as he was being booed inside the hall, Murkomen was being applauded outside by scores of wananchi sitting in the shade.

Junet’s closeness to Raila is such that he has the luxury of reading “The Enigma’s” mind: “In our culture [referring to Luo not Somali culture], if a mzee tells you he’ll get back to you on an issue, you surely know, as day follows night, that he will. So you don’t rush him – you wait patiently. I’ve looked at Baba and I can tell he has yet to immerse himself with the document. I’ll give two weeks, after which he’ll relay to us his followers his findings. And his findings will be our findings too.”

Seated in the BBI corner was the freedom fighter and nationalist. the nonagenarian Gitu wa Kahengeri. He sat next to Esther Passaris, the Nairobi County Women’s Rep. My friend John Maina, who is a confidante of Raila, had driven Gitu to Bomas. When he went to look for him for the ride back home, he found him gone: “I asked him to leave early to avoid the melee and push and shove of the people,” explained the Nairobi Women’s Rep.

“We’re not boarding”

Most of the people milling outside, I gathered, were Raila Odinga’s most loyal followers. As Raila himself quipped, “If Kibra is the bedroom…Langata, where Bomas is located, is the sitting room.” Many of his followers had walked to Bomas. Those that did not find a place to sit milled around and formed disparate discussion groups that dissected the BBI document.

Edging closer to one of these groups, I listened as they tore the document into pieces. “This document is meant to manage our angry stance – what new thing does it propose? They are once again baiting the youth with this talk of bettering their lives – that is utter nonsense. We’re not boarding that ship. The chief problem of this country is vote stealing. We popularly elect our leader, but they always steal our votes…how, you tell me…will the position of a prime minister stop this wanton theft?”

Murkomen was probably upset because his boss William Ruto, the Deputy President, was being embarrassed and humiliated by none other than President Uhuru, who would laugh uproariously every time a snide remark was made about the Deputy President and/or his Tanga Tanga brigade.

It was obvious the group was unimpressed by the report: “There is a certain clique of people in this country that have decreed that no matter what, they will not let any other person rule the country. Now they have roped in Baba to help them retain that power…sometimes, it is very difficult to understand Raila.”

Their animated discussion was interrupted by the appearance of Deputy President William Ruto, on the giant plasma TV screens that were placed in strategic corners. They wanted to hear what he had to say and when he said it, they all applauded. The gist of the DP’s speech was that the document was not bad but that it should not be about creating [executive] positions for certain individuals.

I called one of the group’s discussants aside, a lady from Kibra called Nyasembo, and asked her to break down for me Baba’s most loyal lieutenants’ true feelings. “Some are confused and tired…but really more fatigued than confused. Many are just indifferent. They know BBI is just a circus, a merry-go-round meant to create a happy feeling and calm down Baba’s angry supporters. Yet, the crux of the matters is we cannot continue this way for long…Baba’s presence still towers over us. It is very difficult to disengage just like that from him. To be honest, with the release of the report, we sincerely don’t know his game plan. We’ll have to wait for him to make his move.”

Still, she was of the view that the Luo community generally supported the BBI. “It is not difficult to see why,” mused the talkative lady. “The killing of Luo youth by the state’s instruments of violence has stopped. They are now not being profiled or targeted – whether here in Nairobi or back at home in Kisumu. The police and the paramilitary had express permission to mow down any Luo youth in the ghettoes of Kibra, Kondele, Manyatta, Nyalenda, Nyamasaria, and Obunga.”

Kondele, Manyatta, Nyalenda, Nyamasaria, and Obunga are slums in Kisumu where some of the fiercest battles between the state security apparatus and recalcitrant youth took place after the nullification of the August 8, 2017 presidential elections by the Supreme Court of Kenya. One time the battle-hardened Kondele youth engaged the paramilitary General Service Unit (GSU) for 14 hours, driving out the combined force of the regular police and GSU out of town…but not without live bullets being used on them.

Early this year, down in Kondele, some youth had told me that driving out the humiliated GSU from the newly built thoroughfare that passes through the settlement had turned them into marked men. Kondele, they said, is the nerve centre that organises counter-attacks against the state security forces. “We only need to send word that our formation is ready and the rest follow suit. The first to respond is Manyatta, because it borders us, then Obunga, Nyalenda and Nyamasaria, which border each other.”

“The killing of Luo youth by the state’s instruments of violence has stopped. They are now not being profiled or targeted – whether here in Nairobi or back at home in Kisumu…”

According to Nyasembo, in Kibra, Raila’s political turf in Nairobi, police were expressly ordered to shoot to kill. “Some of our youth fell from the police’s bullets. But you know our youth, they don’t fear the police, so anytime they would be spotted in Kibra, the youth would interpret they are looking for a fight…To date, there are areas in Kibra the police cannot venture into. They very much know what would be awaiting them.”

A temporary truce

BBI has apparently come with some goodies. “They have just finished the road from Kisumu to Kakamega. The road from Kisumu to Isebania – on the border of Kenya and Tanzania – is also being worked on, although we hear the contractor could have left the site,” said Nyasembo. “Kisumu city centre beautification is ongoing…although it preceded the handshake and is a project of the Kenya Urban Project and World Bank. There has also been some hubbub activities at the port – Wagni beach was cleared without resistance to give Baba’s port project a chance.”

The lack of hostility among the Luo community towards BBI is a relief, said my friend John Okoth from Kisumu: “There is a feeling the handshake took off the heavy burden of political fights – of the Luos always being pitted against the state.” He said the community no longer felt the urge to be the “vanguard of Kenya’s political reform struggle”.

Okoth was dismissive of those who question Raila’s motives. “Raila did his part. He didn’t make it because they stole his votes. We understand. Now let those who may feel aggrieved carry on with the struggle. If he has joined the other side so what…let him be.”

He said there was a lot of cynicism about the BBI politics. “The feeling is whatever Baba does is okay. If he gets something out of it cool, if he doesn’t…it’s still cool. There are no grand expectations. It is that feeling more than material rewards that drives the indifference to BBI.”

A political party leader who hails from Kisumu County said to me that the BBI’s true purpose was to form a pact between the Kikuyu and Luo elites – a détente that was supposed to stop the massacre of Luo youth by a state perceived to be controlled by the Kikuyu. “And that has largely been achieved. But beyond the declaration that ‘Luo Lives Matter’, BBI was supposed to have come up with Big Bold Ideas – BBI – that charted a way forward on the future of Kenyan politics: a clean break from the politics of vote stealing, because that has been at the core of the Luo community’s profiling and the unleashing of violence against its people.”

Instead, said the party leader, “what came out of the BBI report was many underwhelming and irrelevant stories that have nothing to do with a reorganisation of electoral justice, but everything to do with the re-establishment of the current political order.”

The party leader claimed that the BBI report was not the original document envisaged by the team. “This report is a variant of many reports that were trashed to accommodate William Ruto and the Punguza Mzigo [lighten the load} initiative.” According to the party leader, all that the BBI has done is to create more confusion and to a temporary truce. “The Kisumu youth are not amused – yet they have nowhere to go – maybe for now. I foresee political turbulence in the coming days.”

One of the biggest reasons why the Luo community is in support of BBI is the unspoken yet widespread feeling among its people that the Kikuyu are in a bind and are facing an economic meltdown. And so because they created this mess, they must be allowed to “finish the journey”. As Uhuru’s supporters say, “I’m completing the journey with Uhuru Kenyatta – what about you?”

Nyasembo said Kikuyus mocked the Luo during the repeat election in 2017. They said that they would elect Uhuru for a second time even without Luos’ support – which they did on October 26.

A political party leader who hails from Kisumu County said to me that the BBI’s true purpose was to form a pact between the Kikuyu and Luo elites – a détente that was supposed to stop the massacre of Luo youth by a state perceived to be controlled by the Kikuyu.

A more fundamental reason, closer to home, why the Luos are supporting the BBI is William Ruto. “Ruto’s rabid hatred of Baba, his incessant insults and innuendoes towards Raila have driven many of Raila’s supporters to rally behind him,” said Nyasembo. “Ruto, in his differences with Baba, had become personal, too personal. Even Raila’s lukewarm supporters cannot stomach this. Differ with Baba, for all we his supporters care, but don’t demean him on a public rostrum.” Because of the DP’s unceasing jibes against Raila, his support base has decided they must stand behind him. “We can discuss the merits and demerits of Baba’s supporting BBI in-house.”

Raila’s bedrock support is largely intact, Nyasembo pointed out to me: “He confused us with the handshake move…Some of us became very angry and hugely disappointed, but he is still the enigma…If tomorrow he tells us that he will be having a public rally at Uhuru Park in the morning, trust me, we will all would troop there by 6 a.m. What am I saying? Baba’s followers will go wherever he is… he is now with BBI, that’s where we shall be…until further notice.”

As Raila’s foot soldiers and loyal supporters seek to situate BBI within the body politic of the Luo community, even as they keenly watch Baba’s body language for any signals, the Kikuyus – whose muthamaki has been praising the handshake and supporting the BBI – have been rejecting the document.

Recently, in a series of tweets, former Mukurwe-ini MP Kabando wa Kabando, a former diehard supporter of President Uhuru, acknowledged that Kikuyus were very angry with muthamaki [Uhuru]. He said if the president does not move quickly to assuage their anger, BBI will be in trouble among the Mt Kenya people. The truth of the matter is that Kikuyus in general view the BBI as a short cut that will impose Raila Odinga (the community’s political nemesis) on them.

Mad man versus saviour

Already facing economic hard times, Kikuyus have turned their anger on President Uhuru and his lacklustre performance. And unless things change now and before 2022, they have vowed to teach him a lesson by rejecting any of his political advances towards them. His six years of underperformance has made it apparent that he has no clear successor. This, coupled with post-2022 uncertainties, have made Kikuyus seriously contemplate embracing William Ruto as their saviour. Ruto, realising the dilemma in which the Kikuyus are, has been sending all the right signals to them as he plots to lock them on his side for the 2022 showdown.

The truth of the matter is that Kikuyus in general view the BBI as a short cut that will impose Raila Odinga (the community’s political nemesis) on them.

Two separate incidents captured in central Kenya serve as a prescient warning to President Uhuru. The first one is a video clip shot in Kiharu constituency of Murang’a County showing some constituents expressing their huge disaffection with President Uhuru to their self-effacing MP Ndindi Nyoro. “Uhuru came here and told us Raila is a mad man,” says an agitated woman. “We now hear he has been trolling around with the mad man. When did he befriend him?” Pointing to a specific place, the woman remembers President Uhuru’s very own words: “Woooi please don’t let me be devoured by this ogre [Raila].”

“They will bring this BBI to us, tell us it’s good, but afterwards, if we are not careful, it’ll be a burden to us,” says the woman. “We must have a baraza over this document to learn more about it – if there isn’t anything beneficial for us, we’ll defeat it.”

A second video clip shows a Mukurino mzee, Michael Ndungú, speaking to a journalist in Nyeri County. This is what he says: “Our leader is Ruto – whatever he says is what we’ll follow – he’s the one leading us in Mt Kenya: Nyeri, Murang’a and Kiambu.”

It seems BBI has become the albatross that the people have to carry around their necks even as they contemplate how best to cross the bridge without being washed away.

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Mr Kahura is a senior writer for The Elephant.


Stealth Game: “Community” Conservancies and Dispossession in Northern Kenya

The fortress conservation model, created with support from some of the world’s biggest environmental groups and western donors, has led to land dispossession, militarization, and widespread human rights abuses.



Stealth Game: “Community” Conservancies and Dispossession in Northern Kenya
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With its vast expanses and diversity of wildlife, Kenya – Africa’s original safari destination – attracts over two million foreign visitors annually. The development of wildlife tourism and conservation, a major economic resource for the country, has however been at the cost of local communities who have been fenced off from their ancestral lands. Indigenous communities have been evicted from their territories and excluded from the tourist dollars that flow into high-end lodges and safari companies.

Protected areas with wildlife are patrolled and guarded by anti-poaching rangers and are accessible only to tourists who can afford to stay in the luxury safari lodges and resorts. This model of “fortress conservation” – one that militarizes and privatizes the commons – has come under severe criticism for its exclusionary practices and for being less effective than the models where local communities lead and manage conservation activities.

One such controversial model of conservation in Kenya is the Northern Rangelands Trust (NRT). Set up in 2004, the NRT’s stated goal is “changing the game” on conservation by supporting communities to govern their lands through the establishment of community conservancies.

Created by Ian Craig, whose family was part of the elite white minority during British colonialism, the NRT’s origins date back to the 1980s when his family-owned 62,000-acre cattle ranch was transformed into the Lewa Wildlife Conservancy. Since its founding, the NRT has set up 39 conservancies on 42,000 square kilometres (10,378,426 acres) of land in northern and coastal Kenya – nearly 8 per cent of the country’s total land area.

The communities that live on these lands are predominantly pastoralists who raise livestock for their livelihoods and have faced decades of marginalization by successive Kenyan governments. The NRT claims that its goal is to “transform people’s lives, secure peace and conserve natural resources.”

However, where the NRT is active, local communities allege that the organization has dispossessed them of their lands and deployed armed security units that have been responsible for serious human rights abuses. Whereas the NRT employs around 870 uniformed scouts, the organization’s anti-poaching mobile units, called ‘9’ teams, face allegations of extrajudicial killings and disappearances, among other abuses. These rangers are equipped with military weapons and receive paramilitary training from the Kenyan Wildlife Service Law Enforcement Academy and from 51 Degrees, a private security company run by Ian Craig’s son, Batian Craig, as well as from other private security firms. Whereas the mandate of NRT’s rangers is supposed to be anti-poaching, they are routinely involved in policing matters that go beyond that remit.

Locals allege that the NRT compels communities to set aside their best lands for the exclusive use of wildlife.

Locals have alleged the NRT’s direct involvement in conflicts between different ethnic groups, related to territorial issues and/or cattle raids. Multiple sources within the impacted communities, including members of councils of community elders, informed the Oakland Institute that as many as 76 people were killed in the Biliqo Bulesa Conservancy during inter-ethnic clashes, allegedly with the involvement of the NRT. Interviews conducted by the Institute established that 11 people have been killed in circumstances involving the conservation body. Dozens more appear to have been killed by the Kenya Wildlife Services (KWS) and other government agencies, which have been accused of abducting, disappearing, and torturing people in the name of conservation.

Over the years, conflicts over land and resources in Kenya have been exacerbated by the establishment of large ranches and conservation areas. For instance, 40 per cent of Laikipia County’s land is occupied by large ranches, controlled by just 48 individuals – most of them white landowners who own tens of thousands of acres for ranching or wildlife conservancies, which attract tourism business as well as conservation funding from international organizations.

Similarly, several game reserves and conservancies occupy over a million acres of land in the nearby Isiolo County. Land pressure was especially evident in 2017 when clashes broke out between private, mostly white ranchers, and Samburu and Pokot herders over pasture during a particularly dry spell.

But as demonstrated in the Oakland Institute’s report Stealth Game, the events of 2017 highlighted a situation that has been rampant for many years. Local communities report paying a high price for the NRT’s privatized, neo-colonial conservation model in Kenya. The loss of grazing land for pastoralists is a major challenge caused by the creation of community conservancies. Locals allege that the NRT compels communities to set aside their best lands for the exclusive use of wildlife in the name of community conservancies, and to subsequently lease it to set up tourist facilities.

Although terms like “community-driven”, “participatory”, and “local empowerment” are extensively used by the NRT and its partners, the conservancies have been allegedly set up by outside parties rather than the pastoralists themselves, who have a very limited role in negotiating the terms of these partnerships. According to several testimonies, leverage over communities occurs through corruption and co-optation of local leaders and personalities as well as the local administration.

A number of interviewees allege intimidation, including arrests and interrogation of local community members and leaders, as tactics routinely used by the NRT security personnel. Furthermore, the NRT is involved not just in conservation but also in security, management of pastureland, and livestock marketing, which according to the local communities, gives it a level of control over the region that surpasses even that of the Kenyan government. The NRT claims that these activities support communities, development projects, and help build sustainable economies, but its role is criticized by local communities and leaders.

In recent years, hundreds of locals have held protests and signed petitions against the presence of the NRT. The Turkana County Government expelled the NRT from Turkana in 2016; Isiolo’s Borana Council of Elders (BCE) and communities in Isiolo County and in Chari Ward in the Biliqo Bulesa Conservancy continue to challenge the NRT. In January 2021, the community of Gafarsa protested the NRT’s expansion into the Gafarsa rangelands of Garbatulla sub-county. And in April 2021, the Samburu Council of Elders Association, a registered institution representing the Samburu Community in four counties (Isiolo, Laikipia, Marsabit and Samburu), wrote to international NGOs and donors asking them to cease further funding and to audit the NRT’s donor-funded programmes.

A number of interviewees allege intimidation, including arrests and interrogation of local community members and leaders, as tactics routinely used by the NRT security personnel.

At the time of the writing of the report, the Oakland Institute reported that protests against the NRT were growing across the region. The organization works closely with the KWS, a state corporation under the Ministry of Wildlife and Tourism whose mandate is to conserve and manage wildlife in Kenya. In July 2018, Tourism and Wildlife Cabinet Secretary Najib Balala, appointed Ian Craig and Jochen Zeitz to the KWS Board of Trustees. The inclusion of Zeitz and Craig, who actively lobby for the privatization of wildlife reserves, has been met with consternation by local environmentalists. In the case of the NRT, the relationship is mutually beneficial – several high-ranking members of the KWS have served on the NRT’s Board of Trustees.

Both the NRT and the KWS receive substantial funding from donors such as USAID, the European Union, and other Western agencies, and champion corporate partnerships in conservation. The KWS and the NRT also partner with some of the largest environmental NGOs, including The Nature Conservancy (TNC), whose corporate associates have included major polluters and firms known for their negative human rights and environmental records, such as Shell, Ford, BP, and Monsanto among others. In turn, TNC’s Regional Managing Director for Africa, Matt Brown, enjoys a seat at the table of the NRT’s Board of Directors.

Stealth Game also reveals how the NRT has allegedly participated in the exploitation of fossil fuels in Kenya. In 2015, the NRT formed a five-year, US$12 million agreement with two oil companies active in the country – British Tullow Oil and Canadian Africa Oil Corp – to establish and operate six community conservancies in Turkana and West Pokot Counties.

The NRT’s stated goal was to “help communities to understand and benefit” from the “commercialisation of oil resources”. Local communities allege that it put a positive spin on the activities of these companies to mask concerns and outstanding questions over their environmental and human rights records.

The NRT, in collaboration with big environmental organizations, epitomizes a Western-led approach to conservation that creates a profitable business but marginalizes local communities who have lived on these lands for centuries.

Despite its claims to the contrary, the NRT is yet another example of how fortress conservation, under the guise of “community-based conservation”, is dispossessing the very pastoralist communities it claims to be helping – destroying their traditional grazing patterns, their autonomy, and their lives.

The  Constitution of Kenyan  2010 and the 2016 Community Land Act recognize community land as a category of land holding and pastoralism as a legitimate livelihood system. The Act enables communities to legally register, own, and manage their communal lands. For the first three years, however, not a single community in Kenya was able to apply to have their land rights legally recognized. On 24 July 2019, over 50 representatives from 11 communities in Isiolo, Kajiado, Laikipia, Tana River, and Turkana counties were the first to attempt to register their land with the government on the basis of the Community Land Act. The communities were promised by the Ministry of Land that their applications would be processed within four months. In late 2020, the Ministry of Lands registered the land titles of II Ngwesi and Musul communities in Laikipia.

The others are still waiting to have their land registered. In October 2020, the Lands Cabinet Secretary was reported saying that only 12 counties have submitted inventories of their respective unregistered community lands in readiness for the registration process as enshrined in the law.

Community members interviewed by the Oakland Institute in the course of its research repeatedly asked for justice after years of being ignored by the Kenyan government and by the police when reporting human rights abuses and even killings of family members. The findings reported in Stealth Game require an independent investigation into the land-related grievances around all of the NRT’s community conservancies, the allegations of involvement of the NRT’s rapid response units in inter-ethnic conflict, as well as the alleged abuses and extrajudicial killings.

Pastoralists have been the custodians of wildlife for centuries – long before any NGO or conservation professionals came along. While this report focuses on the plight of the Indigenous communities in Northern Kenya, it is a reality that is all too familiar to indigenous communities the world over. In far too many places, national governments, private corporations, and large conservation groups collude in the name of conservation, not just to force Indigenous groups off their land, but to force them out of existence altogether.

Pastoralists have been the custodians of wildlife for centuries – long before any NGO or conservation professionals came along.

The latest threat comes from the so-called “30×30 initiative”, a plan under the UN’s Convention on Biological Diversity that calls for 30 per cent of the planet to be placed in protected areas – or for other effective area-based conservation measures (OECMs) –  by 2030.

The Oakland Institute’s report, Stealth Game, makes it clear that fortress conservation must be replaced by Indigenous-led conservation efforts in order to preserve the remaining biodiversity of the planet while respecting the interests, rights, and dignity of the local communities.

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Nashulai – A Community Conservancy With a Difference

Before Nashulai, Maasai communities around the Mara triangle were selling off their rights to live and work on their land, becoming “conservation refugees”.



Nashulai – A Community Conservancy With a Difference
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The Sekenani River underwent a mammoth cleanup in May 2020, undertaken by over 100 women living in the Nashulai Conservancy area. Ten of the 18 kilometres of fresh water were cleaned of plastic waste, clothing, organic material and other rubbish that presented a real threat to the health of this life source for the community and wildlife. The river forms part of the Mara Basin and goes on to flow into Lake Victoria, which in turn feeds the River Nile.

The initiative was spearheaded by the Nashulai Conservancy — the first community-owned conservancy in the Maasai Mara that was founded in 2015 — which also provided a daily stipend to all participants and introduced them to better waste management and regeneration practices. After the cleanup, bamboo trees were planted along the banks of the river to curb soil erosion.

You could call it a classic case of “nature healing” that only the forced stillness caused by a global pandemic could bring about. Livelihoods dependent on tourism and raising cattle had all but come to a standstill and people now had the time to ponder how unpredictable life can be.

“I worry that when tourism picks up again many people will forget about all the conservation efforts of the past year,” says project officer Evelyn Kamau. “That’s why we put a focus on working with the youth in the community on the various projects and education. They’ll be the key to continuation.”

Continuation in the broader sense is what Nashulai and several other community-focused projects in Kenya are working towards — a shift away from conservation practices that push indigenous people further and further out of their homelands for profit in the name of protecting and celebrating the very nature for which these communities have provided stewardship over generations.

A reckoning

Given the past year’s global and regional conversations about racial injustice, and the pandemic that has left tourism everywhere on its knees, ordinary people in countries like Kenya have had the chance to learn, to speak out and to act on changes.

Players in the tourism industry in the country that have in the past privileged foreign visitors over Kenyans have been challenged. In mid-2020, a poorly worded social media post stating that a bucket-list boutique hotel in Nairobi was “now open to Kenyans” set off a backlash from fed-up Kenyans online.

The post referred to the easing of COVID-19 regulations that allowed the hotel to re-open to anyone already in the country. Although the hotel tried to undertake damage control, the harm was already done and the wounds reopened. Kenyans recounted stories of discrimination experienced at this particular hotel including multiple instances of the booking office responding to enquiries from Kenyan guests that rooms were fully booked, only for their European or American companions to call minutes later and miraculously find there were in fact vacancies. Many observed how rare it was to see non-white faces in the marketing of certain establishments, except in service roles.

Another conversation that has gained traction is the question of who is really benefiting from the conservation business and why the beneficiaries are generally not the local communities.

Kenyan conservationist and author Dr Mordecai Ogada has been vocal about this issue, both in his work and on social media, frequently calling out institutions and individuals who perpetuate the profit-driven system that has proven to be detrimental to local communities. In The Big Conservation Lie, his searing 2016 book co-authored with conservation journalist John Mbaria, Ogada observes, “The importance of wildlife to Kenya and the communities here has been reduced to the dollar value that foreign tourists will pay to see it.” Ogada details the use of coercion tactics to push communities to divide up or vacate their lands and abandon their identities and lifestyles for little more than donor subsidies that are not always paid in full or within the agreed time.

A colonial hangover

It is important to note that these attitudes, organizations and by extension the structure of safari tourism, did not spring up out of nowhere. At the origin of wildlife safaris on the savannahs of East Africa were the colonial-era hunting parties organised for European aristocracy and royalty and the odd American president or Hollywood actor.

Theodore Roosevelt’s year-long hunting expedition in 1909 resulted in over 500 animals being shot by his party in Kenya, the Democratic Republic of Congo and Sudan, many of which were taken back to be displayed at the Smithsonian Institute and in various other natural history museums across the US. Roosevelt later recounted his experiences in a book and a series of lectures, not without mentioning the “savage” native people he had encountered and expressing support for the European colonization project throughout Africa.

Much of this private entertaining was made possible through “gifts” of large parcels of Kenyan land by the colonial power to high-ranking military officials for their service in the other British colonies, without much regard as to the ancestral ownership of the confiscated lands.

At the origin of wildlife safaris on the savannahs of East Africa were the colonial-era hunting parties organised for European aristocracy and royalty.

On the foundation of national parks in the country by the colonial government in the 1940s, Ogada points out the similarities with the Yellowstone National Park, “which was created by violence and disenfranchisement, but is still used as a template for fortress conservation over a century later.” In the case of Kenya, just add trophy hunting to the original model.

Today, when it isn’t the descendants of those settlers who own and run the many private nature reserves in the country, it is a party with much economic or political power tying local communities down with unfair leases and sectioning them off from their ancestral land, harsh penalties being applied when they graze their cattle on the confiscated land.

This history must be acknowledged and the facts recognised so that the real work of establishing a sustainable future for the affected communities can begin. A future that does not disenfranchise entire communities and exclude them or leave their economies dangerously dependent on tourism.

The work it will take to achieve this in both the conservation and the wider travel industry involves everyone, from the service providers to the media to the very people deciding where and how to spend their tourism money and their time.

Here’s who’s doing the work

There are many who are leading initiatives that place local communities at the centre of their efforts to curb environmental degradation and to secure a future in which these communities are not excluded. Some, like Dr Ogada, spread the word about the holes in the model adopted by the global conservation industry. Others are training and educating tourism businesses in sustainable practices.

There are many who are leading initiatives that place local communities at the centre of their efforts to curb environmental degradation.

The Sustainable Travel and Tourism Agenda, or STTA, is a leading Kenyan-owned consultancy that works with tourism businesses and associations to provide training and strategies for sustainability in the sector in East Africa and beyond. Team leader Judy Kepher Gona expresses her optimism in the organization’s position as the local experts in the field, evidenced by the industry players’ uptake of the STTA’s training programmes and services to learn how best to manage their tourism businesses responsibly.

Gona notes, “Today there are almost 100 community-owned private conservancies in Kenya which has increased the inclusion of communities in conservation and in tourism” — which is a step in the right direction.

The community conservancy

Back to Nashulai, a strong example of a community-owned conservancy. Director and co-founder Nelson Ole Reiya who grew up in the area began to notice the rate at which Maasai communities around the Mara triangle were selling or leasing off their land and often their rights to live and work on it as they did before, becoming what he refers to as “conservation refugees”.

In 2016, Ole Reiya set out to bring together his community in an effort to eliminate poverty, regenerate the ecosystems and preserve the indigenous culture of the Maasai by employing a commons model on the 5,000 acres on which the conservancy sits. Families here could have sold their ancestral land and moved away, but they have instead come together and in a few short years have done away with the fencing separating their homesteads from the open savannah. They keep smaller herds of indigenous cattle and they have seen the return of wildlife such as zebras, giraffes and wildebeest to this part of their ancient migratory route. Elephants have returned to an old elephant nursery site.

In contrast to many other nature reserves and conservancies that offer employment to the locals as hotel staff, safari guides or dancers and singers, Nashulai’s way of empowering the community goes further to diversify the economy by providing skills and education to the residents, as well as preserving the culture by passing on knowledge about environmental awareness. This can be seen in the bee-keeping project that is producing honey for sale, the kitchen gardens outside the family homes, a ranger training programme and even a storytelling project to record and preserve all the knowledge and history passed down by the elders.

They keep smaller herds of indigenous cattle and they have seen the return of wildlife such as zebras, giraffes and wildebeest to this part of their ancient migratory route.

The conservancy only hires people from within the community for its various projects, and all plans must be submitted to a community liaison officer for discussion and a vote before any work can begin.

Tourism activities within the conservancy such as stays at Oldarpoi (the conservancy’s first tented camp; more are planned), game drives and day visits to the conservation and community projects are still an important part of the story. The revenue generated by tourists and the awareness created regarding this model of conservation are key in securing Nashulai’s future. Volunteer travellers are even welcomed to participate in the less technical projects such as tree planting and river clean-ups.

Expressing his hopes for a paradigm shift in the tourism industry, Ole Reiya stresses, “I would encourage visitors to go beyond the superficial and experience the nuances of a people beyond being seen as artefacts and naked children to be photographed, [but] rather as communities whose connection to the land and wildlife has been key to their survival over time.”

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Battery Arms Race: Global Capital and the Scramble for Cobalt in the Congo

In the context of the climate emergency and the need for renewable energy sources, competition over the supply of cobalt is growing. This competition is most intense in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Nick Bernards argues that the scramble for cobalt is a capitalist scramble, and that there can be no ‘just’ transition without overthrowing capitalism on a global scale.



Battery Arms Race: Global Capital and the Scramble for Cobalt in the Congo
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With growing attention to climate breakdown and the need for expanded use of renewable energy sources, the mineral resources needed to make batteries are emerging as a key site of conflict. In this context, cobalt – traditionally mined as a by-product of copper and nickel – has become a subject of major interest in its own right.

Competition over supplies of cobalt is intensifying. Some reports suggest that demand for cobalt is likely to exceed known reserves if projected shifts to renewable energy sources are realized. Much of this competition is playing out in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). The south-eastern regions of the DRC hold about half of proven global cobalt reserves, and account for an even higher proportion of global cobalt production (roughly 70 percent) because known reserves in the DRC are relatively shallow and easier to extract.

Recent high profile articles in outlets including the New York Times and the Guardian have highlighted a growing ‘battery arms race’ supposedly playing out between the West (mostly the US) and China over battery metals, especially cobalt.

These pieces suggest, with some alarm, that China is ‘winning’ this race. They highlight how Chinese dominance in battery supply chains might inhibit energy transitions in the West. They also link growing Chinese mining operations to a range of labour and environmental abuses in the DRC, where the vast majority of the world’s available cobalt reserves are located.

Both articles are right that the hazards and costs of the cobalt boom have been disproportionately borne by Congolese people and landscapes, while few of the benefits have reached them. But by subsuming these problems into narratives of geopolitical competition between the US and China and zooming in on the supposedly pernicious effects of Chinese-owned operations in particular, the ‘arms race’ narrative ultimately obscures more than it reveals.

There is unquestionably a scramble for cobalt going on. It is centered in the DRC but spans much of the globe, working through tangled transnational networks of production and finance that link mines in the South-Eastern DRC to refiners and battery manufacturers scattered across China’s industrializing cities, to financiers in London, Toronto, and Hong Kong, to vast transnational corporations ranging from mineral rentiers (Glencore), to automotive companies (Volkswagen, Ford), to electronics and tech firms (Apple). This loose network is governed primarily through an increasingly amorphous and uneven patchwork of public and private ‘sustainability’ standards. And, it plays out against the backdrop of both long-running depredations of imperialism and the more recent devastation of structural adjustment.

In a word, the scramble for cobalt is a thoroughly capitalist scramble.


Chinese firms do unquestionably play a major role in global battery production in general and in cobalt extraction and refining in particular. Roughly 50 percent of global cobalt refining now takes place in China. The considerable majority of DRC cobalt exports do go to China, and Chinese firms have expanded interests in mining and trading ventures in the DRC.

However, although the Chinese state has certainly fostered the development of cobalt and other battery minerals, there is as much a scramble for control over cobalt going on within China as between China and the ‘west’. There has, notably, been a wave of concentration and consolidation among Chinese cobalt refiners since about 2010. The Chinese firms operating in the DRC are capitalist firms competing with each other in important ways. They often have radically different business models. Jinchuan Group Co. Ltd and China Molybdenum, for instance, are Hong Kong Stock Exchange-listed firms with ownership shares in scattered global refining and mining operations. Jinchuan’s major mine holdings in the DRC were acquired from South African miner Metorex in 2012; China Molybdenum recently acquired the DRC mines owned by US-based Freeport-McMoRan (as the New York Times article linked above notes with concern). A significant portion of both Jinchuan Group and China Molybdenum’s revenues, though, come from speculative metals trading rather than from production. Yantai Cash, on the other hand, is a specialized refiner which does not own mining operations. Yantai is likely the destination for a good deal of ‘artisanal’ mined cobalt via an elaborate network of traders and brokers.

These large Chinese firms also are thoroughly plugged in to global networks of battery production ultimately destined, in many cases, for widely known consumer brands. They are also able to take advantage of links to global marketing and financing operations. The four largest Chinese refiners, for instance, are all listed brands on the London Metal Exchange (LME).

In the midst of increased concentration at the refining stage and concerns over supplies, several major end users including Apple, Volkswagen, and BMW have sought to establish long-term contracts directly with mining operations since early 2018. Tesla signed a major agreement with Glencore to supply cobalt for its new battery ‘gigafactories’ in 2020. Not unrelatedly, they have also developed integrated supply chain tracing systems, often dressed up in the language of ‘sustainability’ and transparency. One notable example is the Responsible Sourcing Blockchain Initiative (RSBI). This initiative between the blockchain division of tech giant IBM, supply chain audit firm RCS Global, and several mining houses, mineral traders, and automotive end users of battery materials including Ford, Volvo, Volkswagen Group, and Fiat-Chrysler Automotive Group was announced in 2019. RSBI conducted a pilot test tracing 1.5 tons of Congolese cobalt across three different continents over five months of refinement.

Major end users including automotive and electronics brands have, in short, developed increasingly direct contacts extending across the whole battery production network.

There are also a range of financial actors trying to get in on the scramble (though, as both Jinchuan and China Molybdenum demonstrate, the line between ‘productive’ and ‘financial’ capital here can be blurry). Since 2010, benchmark cobalt prices are set through speculative trading on the LME. A number of specialized trading funds have been established in the last five years, seeking to profit from volatile prices for cobalt. One of the largest global stockpiles of cobalt in 2017, for instance, was held by Cobalt 27, a Canadian firm established expressly to buy and hold physical cobalt stocks. Cobalt 27 raised CAD 200 million through a public listing on the Toronto Stock Exchange in June of 2017, and subsequently purchased 2160.9 metric tons of cobalt held in LME warehouses. There are also a growing number of exchange traded funds (ETF) targeting cobalt. Most of these ETFs seek ‘exposure’ to cobalt and battery components more generally, for instance, through holding shares in mining houses or what are called ‘royalty bearing interests’ in specific mining operations rather than trading in physical cobalt or futures. Indeed, by mid-2019, Cobalt-27 was forced to sell off its cobalt stockpile at a loss. It was subsequently bought out by its largest shareholder (a Swiss-registered investment firm) and restructured into ‘Conic’, an investment fund holding a portfolio of royalty-bearing interests in battery metals operations rather than physical metals.

Or, to put it another way, there is as much competition going on within ‘China’ and the ‘West’ between different firms to establish control over limited supplies of cobalt, and to capture a share of the profits, as between China and the ‘West’ as unitary entities.


Thus far, workers and communities in the Congolese Copperbelt have suffered the consequences of this scramble. They have seen few of the benefits. Indeed, this is reflective of much longer-run processes, documented in ROAPE, wherein local capital formation and local development in Congolese mining have been systematically repressed on behalf of transnational capital for decades.

The current boom takes place against the backdrop of the collapse, and subsequent privatization, of the copper mining industry in the 1990s and 2000s. In 1988, state-owned copper mining firm Gécamines produced roughly 450 000 tons of copper, and employed 30 000 people, by 2003, production had fallen to 8 000 tons and workers were owed up to 36 months of back pay. As part of the restructuring and privatization of the company, more than 10 000 workers were offered severance payments financed by the World Bank, the company was privatized, and mining rights were increasingly marketized. By most measures, mining communities in the Congolese Copperbelt are marked by widespread poverty. A 2017 survey found mean and median monthly household incomes of $USD 34.50 and $USD 14, respectively, in the region.

In the context of widespread dispossession, the DRC’s relatively shallow cobalt deposits have been an important source of livelihood activities. Estimates based on survey research suggest that roughly 60 percent of households in the region derived some income from mining, of which 90 percent worked in some form of artisanal mining. Recent research has linked the rise of industrial mining installations owned by multinational conglomerates to deepening inequality, driven in no small part by those firms’ preference for expatriate workers in higher paid roles. Where Congolese workers are employed, this is often through abusive systems of outsourcing through labour brokers.

Cobalt mining has also been linked to substantial forms of social and ecological degradation in surrounding areas, including significant health risks from breathing dust (not only to miners but also to local communities), ecological disruption and pollution from acid, dust, and tailings, and violent displacement of local communities.

The limited benefits and high costs of the cobalt boom for local people in the Congolese copperbelt, in short, are linked to conditions of widespread dispossession predating the arrival of Chinese firms and are certainly not limited to Chinese firms.

To be clear, none of this is to deny that Chinese firms have been implicated in abuses of labour rights and ecologically destructive practices in the DRC, nor that the Chinese state has clearly made strategic priorities of cobalt mining, refining, and battery manufacturing. It does not excuse the very real abuses linked to Chinese firms that European-owned ones have done many of the same things. Nor does the fact that those Chinese firms are often ultimately vendors to major US and European auto and electronic brands.

However, all of this does suggest that any diagnosis of the developmental ills, violence, ecological damage and labour abuses surrounding cobalt in the DRC that focuses specifically on the character of Chinese firms or on inter-state competition is limited at best. It gets Glencore, Apple, Tesla, and myriad financial speculators, to say nothing of capitalist relations of production generally, off the hook.

If we want to get to grips with the unfolding scramble for cobalt and its consequences for the people in the south-east DRC, we need to keep in view how the present-day scramble reflects wider patterns of uneven development under capitalist relations of production.

We should note that such narratives of a ‘new scramble for Africa’ prompted by a rapacious Chinese appetite for natural resources are not new. As Alison Ayers argued nearly a decade ago of narratives about the role of China in a ‘new scramble for Africa’, a focus on Chinese abuses means that ‘the West’s relations with Africa are construed as essentially beneficent, in contrast to the putatively opportunistic, exploitative and deleterious role of the emerging powers, thereby obfuscating the West’s ongoing neocolonial relationship with Africa’. Likewise, such accounts neglect ‘profound changes in the global political economy within which the “new scramble for Africa” is to be more adequately located’. These interventions are profoundly political, providing important forms of ideological cover for both neoliberal capitalism and for longer-run structures of imperialism.

In short, the barrier to a just transition to sustainable energy sources is not a unitary ‘China’ bent on the domination of emerging industries as a means to global hegemony. It is capitalism. Or, more precisely, it is the fact that responses to the climate crisis have thus far worked through and exacerbated the contradictions of existing imperialism and capitalist relations of production. The scramble for cobalt is a capitalist scramble, and one of many signs that there can be no ‘just’ transition without overturning capitalism and imperialism on a global scale.

This article was published in the Review of African political Economy (ROAPE).

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