How water and politicians make Kapedo a battlefield

A few years ago, we published a story about a school tucked in a remote village at the border between Turkana and Baringo counties.

The story arose from my visit to Kapedo village in Turkana East district. I was on leave then so I decided to see a friend who had told me he got a job as a teacher at the remote school.

The village at the time had just about 2,000 people, and two schools — primary and secondary, both sponsored through the Constituency Development Fund (CDF).

The journey to Kapedo was a horrifying one, although deceptive. You take a bus from Nairobi to Nakuru, then from Nakuru to Marigat in Baringo County.

From there, the paved road morphed into a rocky track. Few buses went beyond this point. Locals in Kapedo often timed early morning trucks from Nginyang, another town centre in Baringo, to travel to Marigat. They could then wait for these trucks to come back before returning to Kapedo.

It often took days or even weeks for one to make a return trip. So when I arrived at Marigat, a contact who had promised to help me reach Kapedo was fast with instructions.

“We have to bank on the police lorry going there. I am told the AP (Administration Police) have gone to Nakuru to pick up supplies. We have to be alert when the lorry comes back,” Mr Reuben Chesut said as we sought a place to spend the night.

Marigat Town was supposed to be the headquarters of Baringo County. But political elbowing between local leaders meant Kabarnet would take that title.

Still, the town is a major connection point between “Kenya” and the other parts of “Kenya in the north”, according to locals.

Often, herders assemble here every Thursday to sell their livestock; some are rustled, and some are genuine property.

Police in these areas often try to prevent the animals from reaching the market once they are stolen. This is because a sold animal could easily be converted into meat or transported further, never to be seen again.

Yet this is not always an easy task. Raiders are often armed with bows and arrows, guns and are very accurate shooters. Police pursuing these rustlers often gamble with their lives; you either win or you lose your life.

When we arrived at Marigat, it happened to be a market day so every lodge had been booked. Mr Chesut, a teacher, managed to find some wooden shanties where we spent the night.

It was a long night. Temperatures here may reach 35 degrees, the bedbugs were having their dinner of our blood and the blankets smelled of ammonia. But it was better than outside, where mosquitoes the size of flies roam the air.

COCKED THEIR GUNS

The following day, the expected police truck came over and we all jumped in. It was a 100-kilometre ride but we were loaded together with sacks of potatoes, beans, tomatoes and maize flour and clung onto the barriers among a group of armed police.

The road ran flat for about 50 kilometres before we started eating hills and valleys. The lorry could rise dangerously and fell over the hills like a chopper on thermals. We hung on.

At one point, someone shouted “Pokot!” and every policeman (there were no women officers) cocked their guns. The Pokot live in Baringo East, neighbouring the Turkana at Kapedo. The shouter implied bandits from the Pokot community often raid the Turkana and vice versa.

It happens the “Pokot” in question were just a group of villagers looking for a lift. They jumped in and we continued. We passed more villages. The sun at the time could boil water. The police truck raised a huge cloud of dust, which came back to settle on us. Soon, we would arrive at Kapedo village.

Kapedo, from far, looked like a safe haven. It had a warm river from a local hot spring; houses had electricity from a small turbine erected on a waterfall by a missionary, there was a church, an AP police post, a bar and a restaurant.

It also had a clinic where locals could check in for painkillers and cough syrup (there were often no drugs for malaria or typhoid or wounds from gun violence even though these are common here).

Still, fireside stories in this village were often of their most revered son, Dr Ekuru Aukot, the one-time chief executive of the Committee of Experts that drew up the Kenyan Constitution.

But here is where the good things about Kapedo end. To get a telephone signal, you had to walk by the banks overlooking the Pokot village across the Suguta River. There was a rock there with “magical powers” to attract the signal, according to locals.

On an afternoon, teachers and locals, including students, could crowd at the river bank searching for a network. They could make a call home or send a text, perhaps to assure family members that they were safe, and then wait till the next day to repeat the ritual.

Yet this was often a risk. A walk by the riverbank indicated past gun battles: spent bullet shells and dry blood could be seen. Locals claim the Pokot often stand on the other side of the river and target those looking for a mobile phone signal. Then a gun battle could ensue.

In Kapedo, guns are never far from the villagers. Moments after the first shot is fired, the villagers draw theirs and engage the “enemies”.

Often, these gun holders were police reservists, people with illegal weapons or even the police from a nearby post. The battle could end with people injured or dead. Sometimes just the trees, dogs and walls would get shot.

Yet this is a cycle these people live in. In Kapedo, such battles are common and often result in “peace talks”, which would lead to the Pokot and Turkana burying the hatchet. It never lasts long.

Although the two sides intermarry as a way of creating long-lasting peace, the village is a magnet for local herders because it has good grass for livestock. The local salty river is a good source of natural minerals for animals and it also has fish.

The hills beyond the village are said to have diamonds and there is potential for geothermal power.

This has made the village an important political battleground. Separated from Baringo by the river, local politicians have often pushed and pulled to have the boundaries re-drawn. Baringo wants Kapedo on their side. Turkana insists it is their village.

In the middle of all this, though, the police and villagers will continue to pay the highest price of all: death.