Over 300 villagers in Taita Taveta County have been rendered homeless after being forcibly evicted from land allegedly linked to President William Ruto. The eviction, carried out in the early hours of the morning, has left families stranded with nowhere to turn their homes demolished, their farms destroyed, and their belongings scattered across the dry, dusty plains.
The incident has ignited a wave of anger, sorrow, and political debate in the region, reopening old wounds about land ownership, historical injustice, and power dynamics in one of Kenya’s most land-disputed counties.
Highlights
- More than 300 villagers evicted from land said to belong to President Ruto in Taita Taveta.
- Homes, crops, and livestock pens flattened during a dawn operation.
- Families, including children and elderly residents, left sleeping in the cold.
- Human rights advocates demand intervention and humanitarian support.
- The eviction rekindles the debate on historical land injustices in the Coast region.
Main Story
It began just after 4 a.m. the sound of heavy machinery breaking through the silence of the night. Villagers awoke to shouts from armed police and private guards ordering them to leave immediately. Those who hesitated were threatened as bulldozers began tearing through homesteads built generations ago.
By sunrise, dozens of homes had been reduced to rubble. Smoke and dust filled the air as mothers clutched their children, trying to gather what little they could before being pushed off the land. Furniture, clothing, and utensils were strewn across the fields. Livestock ran loose as frightened residents watched helplessly.
One resident, a mother of four, broke down in tears as she pointed to the debris that was once her kitchen:
“We were born here. My parents lived here before me. We were never told to leave. Now they’ve destroyed everything — our houses, our shambas, even our hope.”
By mid-morning, over 300 people men, women, and children were stranded along the road leading to the farm, some sitting on mattresses, others shading themselves under makeshift tents made from torn polythene sheets.
For many of the affected families, the land in question is more than just a place to live it represents history, community, and survival. According to locals, their ancestors settled on the property decades ago, long before it was fenced off and registered under private ownership. They cultivated the land, built schools and churches, and formed small communities rooted in shared heritage.
The eviction, they say, has erased that legacy in one swift blow.
“We have graves of our parents here,” said one elderly man. “How can you tell us to leave our ancestors behind? This land carries our bloodline.”
Despite claims of ancestral ties, government officials have maintained that the evicted residents were occupying private land illegally, insisting that due process was followed. But the villagers dispute that assertion, saying they were neither notified nor given an opportunity to appeal or relocate.
As the sun set over the rugged hills of Taita Taveta, the reality of the eviction began to sink in. Families huddled around small fires, children shivering in the cold, while elders tried to comfort them. Many had lost everything food supplies, livestock, farm tools, and essential documents.
Local humanitarian groups and church leaders have stepped in to provide basic aid water, blankets, and food. However, the scale of the displacement has overwhelmed the limited resources available. Medical teams have raised concerns about the risk of disease outbreaks due to lack of sanitation and clean water.
In a small temporary camp nearby, volunteers distributed porridge to malnourished children while mothers lined up, desperate for assistance.
“We are citizens of this country,” one displaced woman said bitterly. “We vote, we pay taxes, and yet we are treated like trespassers in our own home.”
The incident has sent shockwaves across the political landscape. Opposition figures and human rights activists have condemned the eviction, calling it a betrayal of the common people, particularly given that President Ruto’s administration often portrays itself as a champion of the poor and marginalized.
Local leaders in Taita Taveta have demanded immediate government intervention, arguing that no eviction of such magnitude should take place without adequate consultation or resettlement plans. They warn that unless the issue is addressed swiftly, it could fuel unrest and deepen resentment among residents already grappling with poverty and displacement.
“This is not just about land,” said one local politician. “It’s about dignity and justice. You cannot uproot entire families without offering them somewhere to go.”
Government spokespersons have remained tight-lipped, but sources within the administration suggest that the eviction was part of a broader land recovery initiative targeting “illegal squatters” on privately owned property.
Land has always been a deeply emotional and politically charged issue in Taita Taveta County. The region’s fertile plains and proximity to Tsavo National Park have made it a target for both local elites and foreign investors. Large tracts of land remain under private ownership much of it inherited from colonial settlers while thousands of locals continue to live as squatters.
Over the years, successive governments have promised land reforms, yet little has changed on the ground. The Taita Taveta eviction has now become a symbol of the broader struggle between wealth and survival, ownership and justice.
Analysts say the government faces a dilemma: enforcing property rights while addressing the historical injustices that left many Kenyans landless in their own country.
Several rights organizations have condemned the eviction, describing it as a violation of the right to housing and livelihood. They argue that international human rights standards require authorities to provide adequate notice, compensation, and alternative housing before carrying out any eviction.
Community groups have launched a petition urging the National Land Commission and the Ministry of Lands to intervene. Their demand is simple: for the evicted families to be resettled and compensated, and for transparency in the ownership of the disputed land.
“Kenya cannot talk about equality while its citizens are sleeping in the cold because of power and privilege,” one activist said.
Days after the eviction, life remains uncertain for the displaced families. Children have been forced out of school, crops have been destroyed, and the once-thriving community now looks like a ghost settlement. Some families have moved in with relatives in nearby villages, while others continue to live by the roadside, waiting for help that may never come.
Despite the hardship, the residents vow not to give up their fight for justice. They have started organizing meetings and collecting testimonies to present to human rights commissions and courts.
“They can take our houses, but they will not silence our story,” said a young man who lost his family’s three-acre farm.
Read Also
For the 300 villagers now sleeping under the open sky, the Taita Taveta eviction is not just about land it is about belonging, dignity, and survival. As bulldozers clear the last remains of their homes, their only hope is that someone, somewhere, will listen to their cries and finally answer the question that has haunted Kenya for decades: who truly owns this land, and who deserves to call it home?
