Every 33 years, the stars align — or rather, the calendars — to present a truly remarkable event: the sacred seasons of Lent and Ramadan overlap.
It’s a time when two distinct faiths illuminate the country in a shared glow of devotion, charity, and reflection.
Traveling across the country during this rare convergence, I encountered stories that show faith as a unifying thread rather than a dividing line.
From Nairobi’s bustling streets to the quiet majesty of Isiolo, from Kisumu’s vibrant processions to Lamu’s serene shores, Kenya offers places to visit and moments to treasure this season.
I started out in Nairobi, a city that seemed to hum with extra energy during this unique season. Jamia Mosque, a towering symbol of faith in the city centre, pulsed with evening prayers as its courtyard filled with worshippers responding to the muezzin’s call.
Mohamed Salim, a jovial shopkeeper from Eastleigh, welcomed me to share Iftar. The simple joy of sharing dates, tamarind juice and laughter left an indelible mark.
The next day, I visited Holy Family Basilica, a short distance from Jamia Mosque, which offered a different but equally profound scene. Solemn hymns echoed as the faithful followed the Stations of the Cross, their voices resonating with devotion and hope.
Sister Mary Atieno reflected: “Faith is humility, and this year’s unity feels like a gift.” Her words lingered as I ventured westward.
Next stop? Kisumu.
The journey to Kisumu brought with it new insights. This lakeside city became a beacon of Lent’s spiritual vigor. St Theresa’s Cathedral stood at the heart of it, drawing pilgrims and residents alike.
Joining Fiona Okello and her community for the Stations of the Cross procession was humbling and enlightening.
The sweltering sun tested my resolve, but Fiona’s playful encouragement;“Even Jesus stumbled—it’s meant to be hard”, lifted my spirits. The final steps to the cathedral felt like a triumph, a journey of faith and endurance.
Meanwhile, in Kitale, the spirit of giving blurred the boundaries between faiths. Here, Festus Omondi, a maize farmer with a heart as big as his smile, introduced me to an inspiring initiative. Churches and mosques had come together to distribute food parcels to the needy.
“Labels don’t matter—love does,” he said, his dusty hands loading flour sacks into waiting trucks.
For Caleb Wasike, who does not conform to either Lent or Ramadan, these two seasons bring a ray of hope.
“During either Lent or Ramadan, I know that I will benefit from some goodies distributed by the Christian and Muslim faithful,” he said.
Eastern and Northeastern Kenya revealed a quieter, contemplative side of the season. In Meru, framed by rolling green hills and the imposing backdrop of Mount Kenya, I met Ahmed Mwithibu, a Muslim elder whose wisdom carried the weight of generations.
“This is a gift from Allah—or God,” he said as we shared tea under the shade of an acacia tree. “It shows us that while our paths differ, we all walk them with faith in our hearts.” His reflections set the tone for the days ahead.
Isiolo, Kenya’s gateway to the north, welcomed me with its unique rhythm. Here, at St Eusebius Catholic Church, Father Peter Makau’s resonant voice rang out with conviction, his message clear and solid.
“Faith is not about walls but bridges that bring people closer.”
Nearby, the melodic recitation of the Quran filled the evening air, a soothing cadence that seemed to blend effortlessly with the surrounding landscape. The harmony here was palpable, a testament to the coexistence of two great traditions.
On the other hand, Mandera, a little further, offered a vibrant sensory experience, especially during Iftar gatherings under starlit skies. Families spread colorful mats, sharing sambusas, chapatis, and camaraderie. Vendors greeted me with warm smiles and delicious treats.
I found a kindred spirit in Salma Ibrahim, of Wajir.
Ibrahim acted as my guide and took me through the mosque’s sacred spaces with warmth and patience. Her gentle words reminded me that faith, at its best, unites rather than divides.
The coast provided a fitting crescendo to this remarkable journey. With its rich history and Swahili charm, Mombasa overflowed with joy as Ramadan took centre stage. Suleiman Ngatia and his wife Amina welcomed me into their home for a feast of mahamri, pilau, and fresh seafood.
“Ramadan is a celebration of gratitude,” Amina said as she served yet another of the tasty Swahili dishes.
Their hospitality felt like an embrace, one that spoke of shared humanity.
And Malindi’s golden sunsets and Kilifi’s community-driven charity drives added layers of beauty to the coastal experience. Father Mwaniki of St Patrick’s Catholic Church offered a poignant reflection.
“Both Ramadan and Lent teach us the value of giving—whether it’s zakat or almsgiving, the spirit is the same.” His words resonated deeply as I ventured further.
In Lamu, a tranquil island that feels suspended in time, the sacred seasons seemed to have a life of their own. As the Ramadan moon rose over the ocean, Noah Ali, a fisherman, shared his reflections: “This year feels special—not just fasting but understanding. Lent and Ramadan remind us that faith is about respect and unity.” His words captured the essence of what I had witnessed across Kenya.
Volunteer efforts, children preparing care packages, and community prayers underscored a powerful message: despite differences, shared humanity prevails.
Sitting at a long Iftar table under a canopy of stars, breaking bread with strangers who had become friends, the truth became clear. In seeking the divine, we often find one another.
With its kaleidoscope of cultures and traditions, my travel during the Lent and Ramadan festivities showed me that faith doesn’t just shape rituals—it weaves connections that transcend time and place.
As the sacred seasons draw to their climaxes — Ramadan ending on March 31st with Eid al-Fitr and Lent culminating on April 17th with Good Friday and Easter Sunday—the unity and resilience of Kenya’s communities shine brighter than ever.
Travelers and adventurers will discover these sacred seasons weave a tapestry of faith and humanity, transcending time and boundaries.
As the sunset kisses Kenya’s rolling hills, Faith whispers through bustling towns and still shores. Ramadan’s moon and Lent’s hymns intertwine, sacred season, a rare bridge across divine lines.
As I broke bread under starlit skies, I found not strangers, but kin in shared ties.
Every 33 years, the stars align — or rather, the calendars — to present a truly remarkable event: the sacred seasons of Lent and Ramadan overlap.
It’s a time when two distinct faiths illuminate the country in a shared glow of devotion, charity, and reflection.
Traveling across the
country during this rare convergence, I encountered stories that show faith as a unifying thread rather than a dividing line.
From Nairobi’s bustling streets to the quiet majesty of Isiolo, from Kisumu’s vibrant processions to Lamu’s serene shores, Kenya offers places to visit and moments to treasure this season.
I started out in Nairobi,
a city that seemed to hum with extra energy during this unique season. Jamia Mosque, a towering symbol of faith in the city centre, pulsed with evening prayers as its courtyard filled with worshippers responding to the muezzin’s call.
Mohamed Salim, a jovial shopkeeper from Eastleigh, welcomed me to share Iftar. The simple joy of sharing dates, tamarind juice and laughter left an indelible mark.
The next day, I visited Holy Family Basilica, a short distance from Jamia Mosque, which offered a different but equally profound scene. Solemn hymns echoed as the faithful followed the Stations of the Cross, their voices resonating with devotion and hope.
Sister Mary Atieno reflected: “Faith is humility, and this year’s unity feels like a gift.” Her words lingered as I ventured westward.
Next stop? Kisumu.
The journey to Kisumu brought with it new insights. This lakeside city became a beacon of Lent’s spiritual vigor. St Theresa’s Cathedral stood at the heart of it, drawing pilgrims and residents alike.
Joining Fiona Okello and her community for the Stations of the Cross procession was humbling and enlightening.
The sweltering sun tested my resolve, but Fiona’s playful encouragement;“Even Jesus stumbled—it’s meant to be hard”, lifted my spirits. The final steps to the cathedral felt like a triumph, a journey of faith and endurance.
Meanwhile, in Kitale,
the spirit of giving blurred the boundaries between faiths. Here, Festus Omondi, a maize farmer with a heart as big as his smile, introduced me to an inspiring initiative. Churches and mosques had come together to distribute food parcels to the needy.
“Labels don’t matter—love does,” he said, his dusty hands loading flour sacks into waiting trucks.
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For Caleb Wasike, who does not conform to either Lent or Ramadan, these two seasons bring a ray of hope.
“During either Lent or Ramadan, I know that I will benefit from some goodies distributed by the Christian and Muslim faithful,” he said.
Eastern and Northeastern Kenya revealed a quieter, contemplative side of the season. In Meru, framed by rolling green hills and the imposing backdrop of Mount Kenya, I met Ahmed Mwithibu, a Muslim elder whose wisdom carried the weight of generations.
“This is a gift from Allah—or God,” he said as we shared tea under the shade of an acacia tree. “It shows us that while our paths differ, we all walk them with faith in our hearts.” His reflections set the tone for the days ahead.
Isiolo, Kenya’s gateway to the north, welcomed me with its unique rhythm. Here, at St Eusebius Catholic Church, Father Peter Makau’s resonant voice rang out with conviction, his message clear and solid.
“Faith is not about walls but bridges that bring people closer.”
Nearby, the melodic recitation of the Quran filled the evening air, a soothing cadence that seemed to blend effortlessly with the surrounding landscape. The harmony here was palpable, a testament to the coexistence of two great traditions.
On the other hand, Mandera, a little further, offered a vibrant sensory experience, especially during Iftar gatherings under starlit skies. Families spread colorful mats, sharing sambusas, chapatis, and camaraderie. Vendors greeted me with warm smiles and delicious treats.
I found a kindred spirit in Salma Ibrahim, of Wajir.
Ibrahim acted as my guide and took me through the mosque’s sacred spaces with warmth and patience. Her gentle words reminded me that faith, at its best, unites rather than divides.
The coast provided a fitting crescendo to this remarkable journey. With its rich history and Swahili charm, Mombasa overflowed with joy as Ramadan took centre stage. Suleiman Ngatia and his wife Amina welcomed me into their home for a feast of mahamri, pilau, and fresh seafood.
“Ramadan is a celebration of gratitude,” Amina said as she served yet another of the tasty Swahili dishes.
Their hospitality felt like an embrace, one that spoke of shared humanity.
And Malindi’s golden sunsets and Kilifi’s community-driven charity drives added layers of beauty to the coastal experience. Father Mwaniki of St Patrick’s Catholic Church offered a poignant reflection.
“Both Ramadan and
Lent teach us the value of giving—whether it’s zakat or almsgiving, the spirit is the same.” His words resonated deeply as I ventured further.
In Lamu, a tranquil island that feels suspended in time, the sacred seasons seemed to have a life of their own. As the Ramadan moon rose over the ocean, Noah Ali, a fisherman, shared his reflections: “This year feels special—not just fasting but understanding. Lent and Ramadan remind us that faith is about respect and unity.” His words captured the essence of what I had witnessed across Kenya.
Volunteer efforts, children preparing care packages, and community prayers underscored a powerful message: despite differences, shared humanity prevails.
Sitting at a long Iftar table under a canopy of stars, breaking bread with strangers who had become friends, the truth became clear. In seeking the divine, we often find one another.
With its kaleidoscope of cultures and traditions, my travel during the Lent and Ramadan festivities showed me that faith doesn’t just shape rituals—it weaves connections that transcend time and place.
As the sacred seasons draw to their climaxes — Ramadan ending on March 31st with Eid al-Fitr and Lent culminating on April 17th with Good Friday and Easter Sunday—the unity and resilience of Kenya’s communities shine brighter than ever.
Travelers and adventurers will discover these sacred seasons weave a tapestry of faith and humanity, transcending time and boundaries.
As the sunset kisses Kenya’s rolling hills, Faith whispers through bustling towns and still shores. Ramadan’s moon and Lent’s hymns intertwine, sacred season, a rare bridge across divine lines.
As I broke bread under starlit skies, I found not strangers, but kin in shared ties.
By Jayne Rose Gacheri