In Kenya’s remote northern highlands, a painful chapter continues to haunt women who say they were victims of sexual violence committed by British soldiers stationed in the country over the past several decades. Despite repeated calls for justice, survivors say their cries have long gone unanswered.
For many women in Laikipia and Samburu counties, the presence of the British Army Training Unit Kenya (BATUK) has left deep emotional and physical scars. Allegations range from rape and assault to murder, committed by soldiers during their training deployments—yet no convictions have been recorded.
Ntilaren Supuko, now 60, recalls a night in 1985 that irreparably altered her life. Then 20 years old, she was returning from the forest when, she says, a group of British soldiers attacked and raped her. “They crushed my body, and they crushed my life,” she says. Since that day, she’s struggled with chronic pain, trauma, and social isolation. Her marriage ended soon after. “It’s like I’m invisible,” she says.
Another woman, Noldonyio Piro, recounts the assault that left her sister dead in 1995. Grazing their goats near a training area, they were attacked by soldiers. Her sister, Mantoi, did not survive the ordeal. “They treated us like we weren’t even human,” she says, showing the damaged arm that never healed from the assault.
Some survivors have found support from their families, but many face cultural stigma and shame, leading to further isolation. “In our community, speaking about rape is considered taboo,” says Paulina Lekuleiya, another survivor. “People call me worthless. They say I was defiled by foreigners.”
The British military presence in Kenya dates back to 1964, with soldiers rotating through training bases in Laikipia under an agreement with the Kenyan government. While these trainings continue under new agreements, a lack of legal accountability for alleged abuses persists.
In 2012, a British soldier reportedly confessed to killing a Kenyan woman and dumping her body in a septic tank in Nanyuki, yet no trial was held on Kenyan soil. Advocates argue this reflects a long-standing pattern of impunity.
“Unlike other countries where victims can seek claims against the British military, Kenya has no accessible legal route for communities to pursue justice,” explains advocate Kelvin Kubai. “In Cyprus, they compensate for damage to livestock caused by helicopter noise. Here, women live with trauma and have no recourse.”
Children born from these assaults face a unique burden—trapped in identity limbo, they carry the physical features of fathers they never knew. “They call me ‘British,’ but I don’t know who my father is,” says David Mwangi, born in Nanyuki to a Kenyan mother allegedly assaulted by a soldier.
Louise Gitonga, another child of mixed heritage, says repeated visits to BATUK offices in search of answers have led nowhere. “They won’t even let me speak to anyone,” she says.
The Kenya National Human Rights Commission (KNHRC) and other advocacy groups have repeatedly pushed for investigations, reparations, and systemic reform. “We are dealing with a history of silence and neglect,” says Professor Marion Mutugi. “The British government must acknowledge these atrocities and act.”
Despite public pledges by the British High Commission to investigate all allegations seriously, survivors and rights groups remain doubtful.
Back in Laikipia, as military helicopters continue to thunder overhead, many women say they live in fear—and in memory.
“We are not asking for pity,” says Paulina. “We want justice, not just for ourselves, but so this doesn’t happen to another generation.”