Five gunshots to the chest, fired in rapid succession, left no room for survival. The killers’ intention was clear: to send the 21-year-old man to an early grave.

The heavily armed bandits, believed to be from Tiaty sub-county in Baringo County, made away with 102 goats.  

This happened on March 17, 2025.

Barely a month later, in April, the killers struck again, this time targeting the dead young man’s elder brother. They ambushed him at night, shooting the 41-year-old twice in the head, blowing his brains out.

Moses had simply opened the door after hearing a commotion outside his grass-thatched hut around 8 pm.

Mzee Kiptoon Kilim’s sons had recently moved to a more secure area deep in the forest, taking their livestock with them after several attacks by Pokot bandits.  

They believed they were out of danger. But they had underestimated how far the bandits’ influence had spread. Touching every corner of the once-peaceful Ng’aratuko village in Baringo North sub-county.

“They struck twice and murdered my sons in cold blood,” says Mzee Kilim, his voice heavy with grief. He has been consumed by sorrow ever since. The once-joyful twilight of his life, which he had hoped to spend surrounded by grandchildren in peace, has been darkened by unspeakable loss.

“They killed the only sons I depended on. They took care of our livestock—that was our only means of survival,” he adds, his voice cracking with emotion.

Police who responded to the second attack recovered a mobile phone believed to belong to one of the killers. But three months later, no arrests have been made.  

Forever uprooted

“I thought the police had a solid lead. What happened to that phone?” Mzee Kilim asks bitterly, having resigned himself to the possibility that his sons’ killers may never face justice.

Following the brutal murders, Kilim fled the land of his forefathers. Staying behind would have meant risking his own life and those of his remaining loved ones. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to run.  

Last year, he had escaped with his family after another attack and had just returned after three months, and then his sons were killed. Now, he vows never to set foot in Ng’aratuko again.

“I know I’ll die in a foreign land—not where my ancestors are buried, as I had always hoped,” he says.

“Serikali iko wapi kama watu yangu wanakufa (Where is the government when my people are dying)?” he asks in broken Swahili tinged with an unmistakable Tugen accent.  

According to him, the Pokot bandits have destroyed homes, stolen clothes and utensils, and even harvested honey from his beehives before destroying them.  

“The only thing they didn’t steal was fire,” he says, chest heaving with a sneeze.

Mzee Kilim believes the attacks are not just about theft—they’re part of a broader plan to take over Tugen land and expand territory, by destroying houses and property.

Once a highly respected elder in Ng’aratuko and a proud polygamist, 70-year-old Arap Kilim’s voice once commanded attention. But since the attacks, he has grown frail.  

Once strong and healthy, he now suffers from multiple ailments, especially since the killings. He points to a festering wound on his leg from an accident during the escape.  

“I fear it may lead to amputation. My chest has been hurting for months, but I can’t afford treatment.”

With his three wives, he fled the village, trekking 30km to Moinonin, a dusty trading centre along the Marigat-Loruk highway. A Good Samaritan offered him a one-room shack, which he now calls home.

“I live with my second wife. There’s no space for all of us,” he explains. His third wife moved in with her parents, while the first lives with a son 150 kilometres away in Solai, Nakuru County.

“My other three sons are scattered across places I can’t even recall,” he continues, coughing weakly.

The once-close-knit family has been torn apart. Their homes were deserted, rotting away in the birthplace, where this father’s umbilical cord was buried.

His 65-year-old second wife Tarkok, does odd jobs on nearby tomato farms to support them.  

Now, he is reduced to begging.

“This old man had workers at his homestead,” reveals a neighbour, Miriam Talaa, “Today, he depends on others for food.”

Yet even in Moinonin, their new home, safety is not complete. Banditry has crept into this refuge as well.  

“We’ve witnessed attacks here in broad daylight,” Talaa Peris, an elderly woman who now relies on two sticks to walk, reveals.

The community here is largely made up of internally displaced persons, victims of rampant banditry.

Among them is 41-year-old Jennifer Kipterit, who fled her home in Chepirebei Village, Chepkesin, after an attack on March 7, 2025.