Kenya Police Officers after arriving from Haiti at the Embakasi Air Base in Nairobi on December 9, 2025. [Boniface Okendo, Standard]
First, a moment of silence for our brothers, police constables Samuel Kaetuai Tompoi, who fell in Haiti, and Benedict Kabiru, who is still missing in action.
To be honest, Kenyans expected worse. Televised images of marauding Haitian gangs had terrified us senseless, and we feared that our boys would be cut down like flies. It is hilarious the extent to which we associate the entire Police Service with traffic police.
That said, I was mighty glad to see our boys safely step back onto Kenyan soil after 18 months. But as Inspector General of Police Douglas Kanja welcomed them home and implored them to keep hyenas away from their money, two things crossed my mind.
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One, our officers were banned from kutangatanga outside the barracks, meaning the likelihood of children who mysteriously behave like Kenyans being born in Haiti is dim. That made me sad. We are accustomed to “our” sons and daughters eating oaths and entering big offices overseas. But you never know. Our lads are snipers.
The second thing that crossed my mind was how well nourished our boys looked. They all packed decent steak on their bones, and their faces glistened. Odd, don’t you think, for men and women exposed to life-threatening conditions for a grueling 18 months?
I, however, recalled reading that our officers were housed in nice, airy barracks; that they were well fed; That they didn’t need to bend over buckets for laundry, or saunter to a nearby stream to beat their fatigues with a rock. They had washing machines.
And now, they are back. To dodgy camps in the middle of nowhere – with stinky pit latrines, no running water and nary a vegetable in sight.
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By Ted Malanda