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"Jackson M. Shaa's Persistent Battle: Protecting the Narasha Maasai's Homeland Equals Sustaining Their Way of Life"

In the rural southern regions of Kenya's Rift Valley, adjacent to geothermal hotspots, safari parks, and Lake Naivasha (Enaiposha), resides Narasha - a parched terrain that has long been inhabited by the Maasai community. Now, this land finds itself as a contentious arena, with the livelihood,...

In the scorching southern Rift Valley of Kenya, beyond the smoldering geothermal sites, confined...
In the scorching southern Rift Valley of Kenya, beyond the smoldering geothermal sites, confined wildlife reserves, and expanses of Lake Naivasha (Enaiposha), sprawls Narasha - a barren region that has been home to the Maasai community for centuries. Now, this territory finds itself in the midst of a fierce struggle, as the survival, cultural roots, and ecological balance of the Indigenous people are persistently challenged.

"Jackson M. Shaa's Persistent Battle: Protecting the Narasha Maasai's Homeland Equals Sustaining Their Way of Life"

In the sun-scorched, picturesque plains of Narasha, nestled within Kenya's Rift Valley and overlooked by towering geothermal facilities, stands a resilient people - the Maasai. Generations have roamed these lands, but today, they find themselves in a ruthless battle against displacement, cultural erasure, and environmental destruction.

At the vanguard of this fight is Jackson M. Shaa, a fierce Maasai warrior, teacher, and CEO of the Narasha Community Development Group (NCDG). For over a decade, Shaa has spearheaded a titanic struggle against unlawful expropriation, corruption, and the slow, insidious violence of cultural extinction.

"Our land is our lifeblood. It carries our stories, our spirits. We can't fall prey to anything that robs us of it," Shaa asserts.

A Long, Gruesome History of Dispossession

This modern-day siege didn't start in 2013; it stretches back to the 1970s, following the discovery of rich geothermal resources beneath their ancestral grazing lands. "The situation was dire since the geothermal resource was discovered in the 1970s," Shaa recounts.

Since the 1980s, the Kenya Electricity Generating Company (KenGen) has snatched over 3,000 acres for projects like Olkaria I to V, chopping up National parks like Hell's Gate without consultation, boxing Maasai communities into orbits of limited freedom. This cycle of dispossession reflects what academics call the "green grabbing" phenomenon: the usurping of land and resources under the guise of environmentalism or development.

"The projects erected without proper protocol. They belittled the community's involvement... Colonialism planted capitalism in our society, and now our leaders are more inclined towards tenders and personal gain rather than our land and people." This protracted history of dispossession set the stage for the cataclysmic events of 2013.

The Carnage of 2013

On a sweltering July morning in 2013, the land trembled as Narasha bore witness to one of Kenya's bloodiest evictions. Swathes of armed police, private security squadrons, and rollers coiled through the morning mist, razing homes, scattering families, and leaving chaos in their wake. Over 2,300 Maasai residents were displaced. 247 homesteads were reduced to rubble. Livestock, sacred to the Maasai, were slaughtered. Ancestral burial sites were desecrated.

Despite promises of mediation, true justice has never truly materialized. Illegitimate sellers of Maasai land were rewarded Ksh. 500 million, while the Narasha community received only Ksh. 100 million - exclusively for property damages. The land issue continued to fester.

"We were only compensated for damages, not our ancestral land. The land issue was left unaddressed. That's where we stand today," grumbles Shaa.

This situation mirrors a global pattern, where Indigenous land claims are diminished to property disputes, diminishing Indigenous sovereignty.

Desperate Survival: Living Through Tenancy

Today, the once-uprooted members of Narasha live precariously on leased land between Naivasha Town and Hell's Gate. They lack formal title deeds, carry a Ksh. 3 million lease debt, and face expiration of their leases by 2049, setting the stage for yet another round of evictions.

"We live under the specter of impending eviction again. Our pastures have vanished. The government has thrust tenancy upon us, on our own land," Shaa laments.

Meanwhile, new geothermal projects, led by private entities like RentCo Ltd., charge forward, deceivingly claiming that the targeted lands are uninhabited, a tactic of cultural oblivion.

"They argue the land is empty. We don't exist. But we are here. This is our home," Shaa proclaims.

Despite Kenya earning billions through geothermal energy - projected to contribute over 35% of Kenya's electricity, according to KenGen - the Narasha Maasai have reaped none of the benefits, only pollution, deprivation, and displacement.

Breathing Poison: The Hidden Health Crisis

The exploitation of Narasha's geothermal fields has corrupted more than just land.

"Hydrogen sulfide is heavy, it doesn't ascend. It settles low, affecting us directly. We've seen a sharp rise in allergies, miscarriages, respiratory illnesses... Our animals drink poisoned water from contaminated streams, and they perish. Children are born sick. People are falling ill with cancer," Shaa explains.

Scientific studies, conducted in 2014 by government chemists and the International Livestock Research Institute (ILRI), confirmed worrying concentrations of toxic heavy metals in the soil and water near Narasha. Despite promises of a health center, no functional facility has been erected; a 2010 health center project remains stalled, a heartbreaking symbol of broken pledges.

"We live in fear. And yet, no health center has been completed. Funds were misused, and now we're left with nothing," Shaa says.

Inadequate educational opportunities further burden the community, as secondary schools often lie beyond reachable parklands.

Cultural Violence: "These Are Not Just Rocks. They Are Us."

For the Maasai, land isn't simply a resource. It's sacred. Sites like Fishers Towers (Kaibartan) within Oljorowua (Oloirowua) Gorge, boasting towering stone pillars steeped in deep mythological significance, have been walled off and commercialized.

"They hold names. They narrate stories. One portrays a bride who turned to stone on her wedding day - a tale recognized even across the border in Tanzania. They aren't rocks. They are us," Shaa explains.

The eradication of access to ritual sites and burial grounds, as anthropologists perceive, amounts to cultural genocide -the deliberate destruction of Indigenous cultural foundations.

"This is cultural violence. It's an intentional erasure of our identity," Shaa declares.

Betrayal by Institutions: A Decade of Failed Promises

After the 2013 upheaval, the World Bank Inspection Panel concluded that KenGen and donors violated Indigenous safeguards. Unsurprisingly, no meaningful reforms followed.

"The World Bank did some great work with the report-but nothing changed. They handed over implementation to the government, and the government did nothing. Zero accountability," comments Shaa.

Faced with government indifference and judicial manipulation, Narasha shifted tactics, directly pressuring financiers like the European Investment Bank, JICA, and the World Bank.

In 2018, a victory came when the European Investment Bank withdrew €150 million from a geothermal project due to human rights concerns, demonstrating the power of Indigenous advocacy.

"That was a win. It shows that activism pays off. But we require more allies. We need the world to stand with us," Shaa said.

Building Power: "We Fight for Ourselves Now"

Under Shaa's guidance, Narasha's resistance has evolved from reactive protesting to proactive empowerment. Through the NCDG, youth, and women have been educated to defend land rights. The Olkaria Women for Land Rights group serves as the embodiment of this evolution: previously marginalized women now lead negotiations and bravely safeguard their homes from incursions.

"We're not fighting for the community; we're helping the community fight for themselves... The women were once the most vulnerable. Now, they are our strength," emphasizes Shaa.

Despite threats of abduction and constant intimidation, the spirit of Narasha refuses to break.

The Future: What Narasha Requires

Shaa outlines his demands:

  • Recognition of Community Land:Immediate implementation of the Community Land Act (2016) to grant collective title deeds.
  • Enforcement of Benefit-Sharing:Ensure the Energy Act (2019) mandates that 5% of royalties flow directly to local communities.
  • Definitions of Community-Benefit:Establish genuine definitions of "community benefit" beyond shallow tokenism.
  • Protection of Indigenous Consent:Mandate projects to adhere to Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC), as outlined in the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.
  • Accountability and Transparency:Investigate corrupt machinations behind land grabs and compensation chicaneries.

"Corruption is the foundation of the system. That's why we don't receive justice. That's why our land was stolen... They argue hiring a few locals counts as benefit. But what about our stolen land? Our slaughtered livestock? Our contaminated water?" laments Shaa.

Despite international scrutiny, the Kenyan government remains enigmatic.

"We've heard the same words for years: 'We'll look into it.' But nothing ever unfolds. So now, we're fighting for ourselves," Shaa reiterates.

A Call to Action

For legislators, international donors, human rights champions, and all those with a conscience, we appeal:

  • Assist the Narasha Community Development Group (NCDG) financially, aid their legal, health, and advocacy efforts.
  • Demand accountability from KenGen, RentCo Ltd., and the Kenyan government.
  • Amplify Indigenous voices: Silence perpetuates continued injustice.

"We were here before the geothermal era. We will endure after it. This is our land. Our fight for it will never cease," Shaa concludes.

Top image: The resilient spirit of the Narasha Maasai Community.

  • The modern-day struggle of the Narasha Maasai community stretches back to the 1970s, following the discovery of rich geothermal resources beneath their ancestral grazing lands.
  • Today, the community lives precariously on leased land, lacks formal title deeds, carries a Ksh. 3 million lease debt, and faces expiration of their leases by 2049.
  • The exploitation of Narasha's geothermal fields has corrupted more than just land. Scientific studies indicate worrying concentrations of toxic heavy metals in the soil and water near Narasha, resulting in increased health issues.
  • For the Maasai, land isn't simply a resource. It holds deep mythological significance, and sites like Fishers Towers (Kaibartan), steeped in story, have been walled off and commercialized.
  • Shaa outlines demands like recognition of community land, enforcement of benefit-sharing, protection of Indigenous consent, accountability and transparency. Despite international scrutiny, the Kenyan government remains enigmatic.

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