The Kerio paradox: Protectors or perpetrators

In Kerio Valley, a region long plagued by banditry and insecurity, the state finds itself in a troubling paradox.

It is tasked with protecting citizens from violent attacks, yet some of its own agents are now being linked to the very crimes they are meant to stop.

Interior Cabinet Secretary Kipchumba Murkomen’s recent remarks in Baringo County exposed this contradiction, laying bare a systemic failure where rogue security officers and inadequate infrastructure threaten to derail efforts toward lasting peace.

Murkomen’s candid admission during a media briefing in Kabarnet was a rare moment of transparency. “This is a fact because we also have rogue police officers and rogue government officials in different parts who are facilitators,” he said, acknowledging that some officers have been implicated in selling bullets and firearms to bandits.

This betrayal of public trust is not a mere anomaly—it is a symptom of deeper issues within Kenya’s security operations.

The lack of accountability for ammunition use in field operations creates loopholes that can be easily exploited. “Some will tell you they used 1,000 bullets, and maybe they used only 50, and then they go and sell the rest,” Murkomen added. In vast, rugged terrains like Baringo, where independent oversight is nearly impossible, such practices often go unnoticed or unpunished.

It is within this gap that corruption quietly thrives.

Rogue officers and reactive state

Kerio Valley, covering parts of Baringo, Elgeyo Marakwet, and West Pokot, has long been a hotspot for cattle rustling and revenge attacks. Armed groups exploit the terrain, historical land disputes, and inter-community rivalries. But Murkomen’s revelations suggest that internal sabotage may be playing an even greater role in fuelling the violence.

When those entrusted to safeguard lives are found aiding the enemy, the entire security strategy unravels.

According to Murkomen, intelligence-led operations have led to several arrests and dismissals. “Some have been convicted or fired,” he noted, indicating that the government is beginning to confront the problem.

However, these steps may only scratch the surface. Dismissing individuals does little to dismantle the deeper networks and motivations that sustain rogue behaviour within the forces.

The challenge extends beyond law enforcement. The CS pointed to a worrying trend of civilians, including professionals, acquiring illegal firearms for self-defence. “The temptation usually comes in when a village has been attacked by bandits and the leaders incite the locals to procure guns in the name of defending themselves,” he said. It’s a reaction born of frustration and fear—a community response to the state’s perceived inability to provide consistent protection.

Murkomen emphasised the government’s position: “We will not accept that, and there is no justification to own an illegal gun in the name of having been attacked by criminals for many years.” But such declarations, while legally sound, fail to address the root cause: communities arming themselves because they feel abandoned.

Infrastructure gaps that invite violence

Nowhere is this absence of the state more visible than in Tiaty Constituency, Baringo. Spanning over 4,500 square kilometres, Tiaty is described as a breeding ground for insecurity but has only two police stations, in Nginyang’ and Chemolingot, with a few additional posts. Murkomen admitted that Silale Ward, one of the areas often mentioned in reports of attacks, has no single police post.

Leaders such as Tirioko MCA Sam Lourien have repeatedly raised the alarm. Divisions like Akoret, Ng’oron, and Tirioko remain without security infrastructure despite being known hotspots. The state’s absence in these places allows criminal activity to flourish. Yet even when the state is present, the behaviour of rogue officers can exacerbate, rather than resolve, the insecurity.

Murkomen has pledged to construct seven new police stations in Tiaty, with four scheduled for completion by December. “We want the government to be present where there is a problem—not just to come and create a buffer between two constituencies,” he said. If delivered, this could mark a shift from reactive to sustained presence. But infrastructure alone is not the solution. The quality, integrity, and oversight of personnel deployed to these stations will ultimately determine whether they build trust or deepen despair.

Governance crisis

Murkomen’s message—“Let the government do its part, and if we have failed before, we have now come out to assure you that we will do everything possible to make sure the place is peaceful”—is well-intentioned.

Yet, many in Kerio Valley have heard such assurances before. Past operations, often marked by high spending and military-style deployments, have done little to stop the violence. As Lourien rightly pointed out, millions are spent on operations, but very little on lasting structures like police posts, schools, or roads.

Temporary security camps like those in Chepkalacha and Mukutani serve their immediate purpose but don’t inspire long-term confidence. Development, governance, and presence must work together to create a lasting solution. When communities see roads being built, schools functioning, and officers held accountable, they are more likely to believe in the state’s commitment to peace.

To resolve the Kerio paradox, the government must confront both sides of the coin. First, it must implement systems to monitor and audit the use of ammunition in operations—Murkomen himself acknowledged how this loophole is abused. Second, community engagement must go beyond press briefings. Residents need consistent dialogue, transparency, and results. Third, investment in socio-economic development—such as education, livelihoods, and conflict mediation—is as crucial as military might.

Insecurity in the Kerio Valley is not just a security problem—it is a governance problem. The dual role of the state as protector and, at times, inadvertent perpetrator, undermines its legitimacy. Murkomen’s openness about the existence of rogue officers is a step in the right direction. But the real measure of progress will be in the government’s ability to deliver change on the ground.

For the people of Kerio Valley, tired of empty promises and fleeting deployments, the hope is that this time, the state’s words will be backed by meaningful, visible, and lasting action.

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