Women’s hidden hand in Kenya’s political goons networks
While public attention targets visible male youth, women act as crucial mules, carrying concealed weapons, blending into crowds, and gathering intelligence without drawing security suspicion.
The young man from Nairobi’s Mathare, in his late 20s, does not hesitate when asked whether women are part of Kenya's political goon networks.
“Of course they are,” says the man, who spoke to the Nation in confidence for fear of his safety. “They may not be on the frontline, but they are there.”
As one of the neighbourhood's self-described “gurus” – local recruiters approached by politicians and business people to assemble young people for political assignments – he says women have become part of a machinery that thrives on poverty, loyalty and survival.
“When it comes to money, there is nothing like being selective,” he explains. “We are the leaders politicians or business people come to when they need people. We don't discriminate. We recruit women, and they recruit others.”
Their role, he says, is rarely to lead an attack.
Instead, they blend into crowds, making political gatherings appear larger than they are, he adds.
He notes that they also gather information, defend fellow recruits when violence erupts and, sometimes, carry stones hidden inside handbags.
“In our world, we don't ask whether a woman can join goonism or not. We are always together in the same place, and when you don't know where your lunch or supper will come from, is that a question to ask?”
He says he knows no woman who has reached the level of a “guru”, but many have been recruited to mobilise others.
Asked whether he could introduce Nation to any of them, he firmly declines.
“It's a code here. You don't tell on each other. Otherwise, you'll be the next target.”
His account offers a rare glimpse into a largely hidden side of Kenya's political violence, one that a new study suggests has been overlooked.
For years, public attention has focused on young men armed with clubs and stones who descend on election campaigns, protests and public gatherings. But beneath that visible violence lies a more organised system, one in which women are increasingly performing less conspicuous but essential roles.
The report, Goonland: Looking Beyond the Money and Violence in the Political Exploitation of Young Men, by OdipoDev, argues that political goonism in Kenya is not an informal collection of unemployed youths but a structured enterprise operating through recruiters, couriers, neighbourhood leaders and political handlers.
Based on interviews with 40 rank-and-file goons, five recruiters and five security officers in Nairobi, Mombasa and Kiambu, the research traces a chain that stretches from politicians and business interests to local “chairmen”, recruiters known as “big fish”, foot soldiers and couriers.
WhatsApp groups and neighbourhood “bases” are used to mobilise recruits. Weapons are transported through trusted intermediaries. Cash moves quietly.
Women, the report finds, are among those intermediaries. Respondents described women as “mules”, trusted to transport and conceal weapons because they are less likely to attract suspicion during security searches.
Multiple interviews by Nation suggest their involvement extends beyond that. In Mathare, village elder Joseph Ouna says young mothers are increasingly drawn into political mobilisation because of the desperate economics facing many households.
“These young mothers have children, and they are their friends,” he says of the young men they persuade to accept political assignments.
“They give them money, and by things for them ... they are considered the best mobilisers.”
He says some women also become defenders of the young men once they are arrested, rallying neighbours behind them and portraying them as victims rather than perpetrators.
A female political organiser in Kayole, who asked not to be named because she fears for her safety, tells a similar story.
She says a fellow woman approached her and asked her to mobilise young men for a political assignment, but she declined, fearing she could be attacked or arrested.
She also says one of her female friends was ferried to Ol Kalou to disrupt the by-election.
“I tried to persuade her not to go, but she refused and went anyway,” she said. She adds that she does not know how much her friend was paid for the assignment.
Neither the National Police Service spokesperson nor the Directorate of Criminal Investigations responded to questions about whether women have been arrested in connection with political goonism or whether investigators have documented their roles.
However, Kenneth Kiprop, the Deputy County Commissioner for Nyandarua Central, says investigators did not arrest any women following violence during the Ol Kalou by-election and received no intelligence linking them directly to the attacks.
In an earlier interview with Nation, he said investigations had established that those responsible had travelled from outside the county and left immediately after the election.
The study argues that money remains the engine driving recruitment.
Disrupting political rallies earns between Sh500 and Sh1,500. Anti-protest operations pay between Sh500 and Sh2,500. Land disputes attract between Sh500 and Sh2,000.
For the recruits, researchers found, those amounts outweigh the risks.
Yet economics alone does not explain why young people stay. Participants described the networks as providing identity, loyalty, status and belonging.
The report warns that employment programmes, while necessary, are unlikely on their own to dismantle political goonism.
Leaving the networks, researchers argue, means breaking relationships built on fear, dependence and community ties.
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