Single fathers: Why we fought for custody

Rama Oluoch, 39, is an advertising and marketing services consultant. But, his proudest title isn’t tied to work; it’s the sound of his children calling him ‘Dad.’
Rama is a single father of two boys, a role he relishes. “Being a present father is something I’m very proud of,” he says. He separated with their mother until the eldest child turned six and the youngest was three.
“I fought for custody because I desperately wanted to be present in the lives of my children and to see them grow in conditions that would see them become thriving adults,” he says.
After the separation, Rama and his ex-partner struggled to agree on issues such as child support and parenting roles.
“It was difficult to put the children’s needs above our own differences. I didn’t want assumed rights as a father, so I chose the legal process because I figured the courts are better placed to give clear orders.”
When the question of child support became contentious, Rama counter-sued, seeking full or joint custody. “I truly believed that by living with my children, I could have a stronger impact on their lives.”
Rama had always been a hands-on dad. He worked from home long before it became fashionable, just to be with his family. “I was in the room during their home birth water deliveries,” he recalls. “When you decide to have children, you must be mentally prepared to raise them together or alone. Excuses aren’t part of responsible parenting.”
So, how can a man win a child custody battle? “You have to prove that you prioritise the welfare of the children,” Rama says.

But he quickly learned that the wheels of justice move slowly. “Children count your absence by the weekends you don’t see them and the holidays you miss,” he says softly. “I missed only two birthdays and six school holidays for both boys.”
The society was harsh to him. “Public opinion was largely unfair to me as a man. People reacted without context, assuming men are always in the wrong. I had to be comfortable being the public villain to be a private hero for my sons.”
As a content creator, Rama’s life is public-facing, and that visibility came with extra scrutiny.
“Some women who’ve been hurt by absentee fathers projected that pain onto me. Even some men carried unhealed wounds. It was disappointing.”
Bloggers, he adds, made money off rumours. “None of them reached out to hear my side. That experience made me respect professional journalism even more.”
One moment in court stands out. “It hit me that I was fighting for the right to access my children in the same building where others were being compelled to take care of theirs. That wasn’t a pleasant feeling.”
The two-year process tested every ounce of his patience, finances, and emotional endurance. “I couldn’t speak publicly about the case, so I just rode out the storm. Whatever was meant to break me actually built my character. Through the noise, all I could hear was my boys calling me ‘Daddy’.”
Rama credits his family and close friends for holding him up, but isolation came in waves.
“There are people who keep watch, just waiting to see you fall.”
He focused on understanding the law. “Once I familiarised myself with the Children’s Act, I knew I had nothing to fear.”
Still, the wait was painful. His sons would cry at school visits, not understanding why they couldn’t go home with him. “That was heartbreaking. At some point, I had to stop visiting until judgment.”
When the final decision came, granting him joint legal and physical custody, it was a great relief for him. “I went home and slept for 10 hours. I was emotionally exhausted.”
Today, Rama co-parents with grace and gratitude. “I’ve become calmer and better regulated,” he says. “Financially, I was affected too, but I leaned into my art. I even started an art club to help other parents bond with their children creatively.”
He describes his parenting style as authoritative but open. “I’m firm, but I let them have fun safely. I make time for both myself and my children.” He meets friends weekly to recharge and remembers his extended family fondly. “It hurts that my boys can’t see their grandmother and aunt as often. Separation affects more than just parents; it touches everyone.
Rama has also learned that society’s biggest misconception about single fathers is that they want to have their cake and eat it. I’m happy my ex-partner found love again. I wish them well.”
Through it all, Rama has learned that real strength is quiet. “When you’re fighting for what you believe in, you don’t need supporters, just conviction. Some people will misunderstand you no matter how much you explain.”
The betrayal of a close friend who spread false stories about him was a painful lesson. “It taught me how to be a better friend,” he says thoughtfully.

His advice to men fighting for custody? “Go for it. Your children need you when they are young. If you let them grow without you, you’ll pay for therapy later.
“Fatherhood is an adventure. I am raising sons who know how to protect and provide, and daughters who know what kind of treatment to expect from men. When fathers are present, society becomes safer, kinder, and more balanced.”

Shared dreams

Alex Gatheru Mwangi, 42, has also been on the same journey as Rama. When he speaks about his nine-year-old son, his eyes soften. A telecommunications engineer based in Machakos County, Alex never imagined he’d ever spend years in court just to prove that he was a good father.

Alex met his son’s mother in his late 20s. Their marriage was built on love and shared dreams but as years went by, they grew apart. “Somewhere along the way, communication broke down. We became co-parents more than partners.”
They eventually separated, agreeing informally that their son would stay primarily with his mother. But with time, Alex began to notice emotional and physical changes in the boy.

“He became withdrawn and moody. He would tell me he didn’t like moving between houses all the time. I could tell something wasn’t right.
One evening, Alex’s son called him in tears, saying he had missed school for almost a week because of confusion over who was meant to drive him there.

“That phone call broke me,” Alex says. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault; it was just poor coordination on our part, but our differences were affecting him directly.”
The next morning, Alex sought legal advice from a friend. “I didn’t want to take the boy away from his mother. I wanted to bring stability back to his life.”
He filed for full physical custody. “It wasn’t a war. I just wanted a structured environment for him, which is why I allowed the mum to have joint legal responsibility,” he explains.

When Alex first mentioned his intentions, the response was discouraging. “People laughed and said, ‘You’ll waste money. Fathers don’t win custody in Kenyan courts.’ Even my lawyer warned me that the odds were low.
“I told myself, if I lose after trying, at least I’ll sleep knowing I did everything I could for my son.”

He began documenting everything, from school reports to doctor’s visits. “I kept every report card, every note from teachers, every photo of us doing homework.”

He showed the court that his son had a dedicated room, a fixed school routine, and consistent access to healthcare and emotional support. “I may not have had a fancy home, but I had peace, and that’s what my son needed most.”
The case dragged on for almost three years. “There were days I’d leave court and just sit in my car for an hour. The silence after those sessions was heavy,” he recalls.

The turning point came when a social inquiry report prepared by a children’s officer noted that Alex provided “a more stable and consistent environment conducive to the child’s emotional development.” A few months later, the court delivered its judgment.

“I’ll never forget that day,” he says. “When the judge said, ‘Custody is granted to the father,’ I froze. I didn’t even cry in court, I waited until I got home, then I broke down.”

The order required him to ensure the mother had regular access and visitation rights. “That was fair,” he says. “I never wanted to erase her.”
It has been a year since that day. “My son is doing great in maths,” he says proudly. “He loves cooking too! We make pancakes every Saturday morning. He insists on flipping them himself, even though half of them land on the floor.”

Their routine includes breakfast together, homework at the kitchen table and bedtime storytelling. “I learned that fatherhood isn’t about how much you buy but how much you show up,” he says.
Emotionally, Alex has healed. “The process drained me, but every smile from my son reminds me why I had to keep going.”

Despite his victory, Alex still feels society’s quiet judgment. “People assume that if you have custody as a man, the mother must have done something terrible. That’s not true. My son’s mother is a good person. We just couldn’t parent under the same roof. We’ve both matured now. We communicate better. I even send her updates about school events.”
Has Alex found love again? “I am optimistic I will find a good woman who will love my son and I genuinely,” he says.

Isolation

What hurt most during the process, he says, was the isolation.
“No one tells you how lonely single fatherhood can be. People don’t see the emotional distress, the sleepless nights, the second-guessing, the fear of being judged harshly.” His advice to other fathers? “Don’t go to court out of anger or ego. Do it because your child needs you. Gather your evidence, stay respectful, and trust that truth will show itself.”

Data from the Kenyan courts shows there has been an increase in child custody and maintenance cases filed across all 47 counties. Nairobi, Mombasa, and Nakuru counties top the list with the highest number of filed custody and maintenance cases.
In Nairobi, the number of cases filed rose from 1,856 in 2022 to 1,886 in 2023 and further to 2,149 in 2024.
As of October 2025, Nairobi still topped the list of filed and concluded cases with a total of 1,476 cases, followed by Uasin Gishu with 914 cases, and Nakuru with 500 cases.

Understanding child custody laws

When couples separate or divorce, one of the hardest and most emotional questions is, who should the child live with? Family Advocate Cosmas Mureti says the answer lies not in who earns more or who loves the child most, but in the best interest of the child.
He explains that the Children Act 2022 guarantees every child the right to parental care and protection.

“There isn’t a specific clause that says what happens after separation or divorce, but the child’s well-being, development, and safety must come before all else.”
“Legal custody,” he says, “Means the court has formally given someone parental rights and responsibilities for a specific period.” This must come from a court of competent jurisdiction.
Then there’s actual custody, which is simply the physical care and control of the child, where the child lives and who takes care of them day-to-day. A guardian, on the other hand, is someone appointed by the court to care for a child. It is common for grandparents or older siblings to play that role informally when parents aren’t around.

“When deciding who gets custody, the court looks at several things: The child’s own wishes if they’re old enough, the parents’ conduct, their religion, and even their community customs. The court also checks whether the child has suffered harm or is likely to, and tries to ensure siblings are not separated. Only in exceptional cases does the court split them between parents.”
Many Kenyans believe courts always favour mothers in custody cases. Mr Mureti says this perception comes from the Tender Age Doctrine, an old belief that mothers are naturally better at caring for young children.

“That used to influence many rulings, but things have changed. Both parents play a vital role, even when the child is very young.”
Mr Mureti has handled many cases where fathers were granted full custody. “It usually happens when the mother is unsettled, has remarried, or lives in conditions unsuitable for a child,” he says. “If a mother struggles with alcoholism, engages in immorality, or has a mental condition that affects her ability to care for the child, the court may give custody to the father. The same applies when a mother is absent or neglects the child.”

But it is not automatic. “The father must prove both that the mother is unfit and that he can provide a better environment.”
For a parent seeking full custody, the process starts by identifying a magistrate’s court that has jurisdiction where the child or the respondent lives. The parent must then prepare court documents, known as pleadings and attach supporting papers such as the child’s birth certificate, school fee structure, and their identification card.

“The application is filed through the Judiciary’s Case Tracking System (CTS),” he says. “Once that’s done, the court sets a mention date, confirms that the other parent has been served, and later gives a hearing date.” The judge then listens to both sides and delivers judgment.
However, timelines vary. “If there are preliminary applications or if parties delay in filing their papers, that slows everything down. The court’s diary and the lawyers’ schedules also play a big role.”

Children’s Officers and probation officers often act as the court’s eyes and ears. They visit both homes, talk to the parents, and prepare a report on their living conditions and ability to care for the child.
“These reports are key in helping the court make a fair decision,” Mr Mureti says.
With court cases often long and draining, mediation is becoming a preferred option.

“Courts now refer family disputes to Court Annexed Mediation so that parents can try to reach an agreement before trial,” Mr Mureti says.
Organisations such as FIDA-Kenya also promote mediation. They screen children’s cases and refer them to trained mediators before they reach court.”
According to Mr Mureti, many fathers face unique challenges when seeking custody. “Some don’t know how they’ll handle childcare once custody is granted,” he says. “They often say they’ll take the child to their mother, or that they’ll marry someone to help raise the child. I always tell the men to be honest with the court.”

But what about visitation rights? “Both parents have equal rights, so a father can get full custody while the mother retains visitation rights in a public space like a park or restaurant.”
Visitation rights aren’t automatic. The court may grant unlimited access or supervised visits, depending on the case. Sometimes, visits must happen in public spaces for the child’s safety and comfort. Custody orders can also be reviewed if circumstances change.

“A parent can apply to court to review the order if, for example, they’ve become more stable or the other parent’s situation has changed,” says Mr Mureti.
When one parent denies the other access despite a valid court order, “The aggrieved parent can move to court to have the offending party arrested for contempt,” he explains.

Beyond the legal process, he acknowledges the emotional cost of custody cases. “Litigation is exhausting, financially, mentally, and emotionally. Parents spend a lot of time in court, and one side must always lose.
Unless the case is settled through mediation, it often breeds bad blood. Children, too, suffer emotionally, especially when asked to choose which parent they want to live with.”

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