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David Kipkosgei, 39, represses a shiver by showing a brown desolation on a hill that was once his home.
He was only 15 when his family and other members of the Sengwer community were expelled from his homes in the Embobut Forest, in Elgeyo Marakwet County, in 1994. They were left homeless and sorry.
He strongly recalls the gunshots that cut the ears that night. A few minutes later, three threatening people invaded their compound and ordered his family to go out.
As Kipkosgei slipped behind his six older siblings and parents, he turned to look at their house. He watched in horror as a monstrous ball of fire licked their four thatched huts. Fifteen goats and ten sheep that were in the enclosure died in the fire
EXPICTION WOES
Since then, there have been more state-sponsored expulsions which has raised many tensions in the region. During the evictions in March 2018, many homes were burned to the ground, leaving more families in the Sengwer Aboriginal community homeless.
According to Amnesty International, since 2009, the community has been subjected to violent evictions from the Embobut Forest. In 2014, about 1,500 of their homes were destroyed, while another 300 homes were destroyed since December 2017.
While we stand in a clearing in the Embobut Forest, Kipkosgei thoughtfully looks at the houses. creeping nettle (Sengwer kimmeele) that will soon cover brown spots. Sadness is written on his face – the frequent expulsions of his community traumatize him
The uncertainty of not knowing when they will be expelled prevents Kipkosgei and his siblings from going to school .
Being homeless means that Kipkosgei has to pay a monthly rent of 1,000 shillings for the shelter of his two wives and seven children. He does subaltern work, like harvesting sand on the banks of the Embobut River, to make ends meet.
"I struggle to feed my family, clothe them and educate my children," he says. He turns to me and adds, "My life will never be the same again."
A long silence then follows as we descend the crest of the Embobut Hills across the rugged Embobut Valley. We meet two women who are digging through the black sand on the riverbank in hopes of getting the elusive gold grains flowing downstream. We wade through the numbing cold river and silently pray that we cross it safely.
Like Kipkosgei, some of Sengwer's women are poor. We meet Cherotich who is lying on the banks of the river. She wipes glistening sweat beads on her forehead before talking to me
"We are bending over here all day, we do not know if we will have a gold grain, if we fail, our children will be hungry" . she says. "I'm a mother of five and I spend a good day doing Sh 150. The other days, I go home empty-handed, and at night falls, the youngest child cries of hunger," says Kipkosgei.
AN INDIGENOUS TRIBE
A report from survivalinternational.org, a global movement that defends the rights of indigenous peoples, states that the Sengwer are an indigenous people who inhabited the dense forest of Embobut before 39; recording of the history of Kenya. They lived on berries and herbs. They also kept bees and pets. In addition to providing honey, bees have contributed to the spread of native trees and plants through pollination. Their beekeeping activity has helped to build the forest of Embobut over time.
The Sengwer have a respect for and a spiritual attachment to the forest and have safeguarded it for hundreds of years. However, in the early 1980s, the Kenyan government began evicting them in order to conserve the forest. The authorities argued that indigenous people degraded it due to deforestation.
As evictions intensified in 2014, the community began protesting. They argued that the forest has always been their home. With many houses burned and property destroyed, the inhabitants of this tribe were left homeless. They believe their claims over land rights should be heard as ordered by the High Court of Eldoret
Jeremiah Kimaiyo, 43, says many people lost their homes and belongings in the 1980s evictions and 1990. His father lost dozens of animals, he adds. The community is now "scattered like a sheep without a shepherd" as they have been displaced from their homes and forced to settle on other land and change their way of life.
A 2014 study by Rotich, B, Makindi SM, and Esilaba MO, in the Environment and Natural Resource Management Journal, indicates that despite the fact that 59.8% of Sengwer indigenous people move from traditional hunting and gathering in livestock and agriculture, some of them continue to depend on the forest to survive.
When I approach Kirop Kiptanoi, 74 years old, he keeps animals on a green hill. He becomes worried but sighs with relief after realizing that I am not a government official.
He shares his fears about the extinction of the Sengwer. Mixed marriages, as with the neighboring Marakwet community, also threaten the survival of the community, their language and culture, adds Kiptanoi.
He laments that the elders of Sengwer are prevented from offering sacrifices to their ancestors as they have done for centuries.
A long time ago, Sengwer's elders brewed traditional honey-based wine, filled a calabash and put it on the stone in the forest. They threw a series of muffled words to the ancestors, whom Kiptanoi did not reveal – only the elders know what is said in the ritual. The ritual was believed to invite ancestral spirits to participate in the yield of the earth.
In return, the ancestors would make their animals fertile and their hives overflowing with honey. Their wives would also give birth to many children. According to the Sengwer culture, it was an abomination for women to approach altars or offer sacrifices. If that was the case, a curse would fall on the ground.
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