Toroso, Kenya – In the remote highlands of Mt. Elgon, a quiet storm is gathering around a centuries-old fig tree—an ancient sentinel rooted in both soil and spirit. At stake is more than the fate of a tree; it’s a collision of tradition, modern politics, and deep-seated fears of unrest in a region long marked by volatility.

At the center of the unfolding saga is Mos Ndiema, a resident of Mt. Elgon and a respected voice among the Sabaot community. Ndiema recently found himself under scrutiny after being summoned by Kenya’s Directorate of Criminal Investigations (DCI), accused of attempting to incite unrest through a series of traditional gatherings.

“I was called to record a statement, but I rejected the accusations,” Ndiema told Prime Africa News in an exclusive interview.

“This has nothing to do with chaos or politics. The meetings I held with elders were solely focused on preserving our culture.”

But the spiritual campaign to uproot the fig tree—known locally as mkuyu—has become a flashpoint in local politics. The tree, estimated to be over 300 years old, is located in Toroso village and is said by elders to be rooted above sacred artifacts: a ceremonial bell and a traditional Sabaot hoe (Kosiriondeti)—symbols of prosperity, blessing, and agricultural renewal.

For elders like Chemaket Edwin, the tree holds the key to ending what they describe as a “curse” of poverty and famine that has plagued the region.

“We are starving. Trucks now bring food to the mountain. This was never the case before,” Edwin says.
“Our efforts to cleanse and bless the land are misunderstood as political acts.”

Political Shadows Loom

Fred Kapondi, Mt. Elgon’s Member of Parliament, sees things differently. He has publicly condemned the elders’ actions, warning that the symbolism—traditional sticks, ceremonial songs, and rituals—could reignite fears of past ethnic tensions in the area. The MP has accused Ndiema and the group of using cultural rites as a cover to destabilize the region, and perhaps mount a political challenge in the 2027 elections.

But Ndiema remains adamant:

“We respect the law and we are not interested in politics. This is about culture, about healing the mountain, and restoring peace.”

Tensions reached a boiling point recently when a scheduled dialogue between elders and Bungoma County Commissioner Thomas Sankei was abruptly canceled. The site at Toroso turned chaotic as police deployed to the area, and a confrontation broke out between Kapondi’s supporters and the elders. Several elders were injured in the scuffle, and a journalist covering the event was reportedly harassed.

Elders Vow to Press On

Despite a growing security presence around the tree, elders from both Bungoma and neighboring Trans-Nzoia counties have vowed to proceed with their mission—peacefully, but resolutely.

“We are the custodians of Sabaot culture. Whether from Cheptais or Swam, we will not let our traditions die,” declared Joseph Jepkirui, a prominent Sabaot elder.

To them, the fig tree is more than a relic—it is an obstacle to spiritual restoration and communal healing. Their goal: to retrieve the sacred tools buried beneath and perform rites believed to unlock blessings for the land.

A Nation Watches

For now, the fig tree stands untouched—surrounded by police, shielded by political decree, yet rooted in a deep cultural conviction that refuses to be silenced.

It is a symbol of Kenya’s broader challenge: reconciling modern governance with indigenous tradition, and preserving peace without erasing heritage.

As Mt. Elgon waits for a resolution, one thing is clear: the battle over the fig tree is not just about a tree. It is about who gets to define the future—and who gets to remember the past.

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