Gold in their hands, dust in their future: The human cost of West Pokot

Gold Miner in West Pokot. May 23, 2025. [Irissheel Shanzu, Standard]

In the heart of Romus Centre, nestled among the parched hills of West Pokot County along the volatile border with Turkana, the pursuit of gold has become a perilous daily gamble.

The once promising gold mines have turned into death traps, claiming dozens of lives every year. Beneath the tragedy lies a tangled web of desperation and hope, as people from across Kenya and even Uganda flock to this harsh terrain, lured by dreams of fortune.

In Chepkaun village, the day begins at dawn. Families emerge from round, grass-thatched huts, their cold dirt floors lined with sacks.

At just 14, Kipkemoi John swings a hammer at sun-baked rocks with practiced intensity.

His blistered hands and sunburnt face reveal years spent in the mines. Around him, other children-some as young as ten-work in silence, sifting crushed stones for gold dust.

"We work from morning to evening," Kipkemoi says. "Sometimes we find gold. Sometimes we don't. But we come back because our families need it."

Many residents have abandoned small-scale farming and livestock keeping, drawn instead to gold mining in search of a breakthrough.

But after more than a decade, the returns remain pitiful. Most families still live in deep poverty, some unable to afford even a single meal a day.

Women lead the charge. Babies strapped to their backs, armed with pickaxes and metal basins, they trek to River Muruny-a gold-rich stream turned lifeline.

Toddlers trail behind, clutching sufurias and handfuls of maize and beans.

Gold Miners in West Pokot. May 23, 2025. [Irissheel Shanzu, Standard]

These children, denied education, double as caretakers while their mothers labour, knee-deep in muddy waters.

The same gold that their parents hope will buy school uniforms is also the reason many remain out of school.

On the riverbank, mothers strip to wade in, leaving babies shaded beneath trees. Fires crackle as older children prepare githeri over open flames.

Among them is 40-year-old Cheprayi Nancy, a single mother of four. She stands waist-deep in River Muruny, scooping sand and stones into a basin, searching for gold with her bare hands.

After hours of effort, a flicker of yellow catches her eye. A smile breaks across her weary face as she slips the grains into a chicken feather's follicle-her makeshift gold pouch.

"This is a business of hope," she says. "You keep working, praying that something comes out of the basin. It's not easy, but what choice do we have?"

Cheprayi explains that without gold, there is no money for food or basic goods. Credit is unheard of, and years of drought have devastated farming.

Some of her children take turns attending school, their fees paid from sporadic gold finds.

She is not alone. Countless men and women cling to the same dream. Sixty-six-year-old Henry Kolipus, a veteran miner, reflects on decades of toil. "We dig as a group to make it easier," he says. "But even after all these years, I am still poor. My children struggle to stay in school."

Gold is sold to middlemen for as little as Sh200 per pint-barely enough for a basic meal. "Two kilos of maize cost the same," Kolipus says. "Add vegetables, cooking fat-there's nothing left for books or pens."

Danger is ever-present. Miners risk encounters with snakes, crocodiles, and collapsing pits. Kolipus recalls discovering gold during a drought 30 years ago, when the river receded to reveal glittering stones.

"At first, no one knew what they were. Then middlemen came, and we realised it was gold."

Yet despite decades of mining, no one in Chepkaun has ever struck it rich. Most have never extracted even a kilogram.

Locals now plead for government support-irrigation systems, farming inputs, and alternative livelihoods. But as poverty deepens, more people turn to the mines, swelling already crowded sites.

"Most of us were herders," says Caroline Chenangat. "But with drought killing our livestock, mining felt more promising. Maybe tomorrow we'll find a big nugget."

Romus, like many other sites in West Pokot, is an unregulated hive of activity. Families flock to riverbanks, clinging to the dream of fortune. But the harsh reality is poverty, insecurity, and lost childhoods.

Unlike regulated mines elsewhere in Kenya, mining in West Pokot is informal and chaotic. Pits are dug without reinforcement, often collapsing and killing miners.

"We lost ten people last year alone," says a village elder. "The pits fall in. People suffocate. No one from the government comes to inspect. No one seems to care."

The value of gold has also attracted criminal gangs. Miners report theft, armed raids, even killings. Much of the gold is smuggled out by illegal traders.

The crisis is not confined to struggling locals.

In February 2025, a raid by the Mining Investigations Unit and Ministry of Mining officials uncovered a sprawling illegal mining site along the Wei-Wei River in Sigor, Pokot Central. But this was no artisanal site-it was an industrial-scale operation run by foreigners.

Seven Chinese nationals-Wang Youping, Xian Zhenming, He Zhouming, Wang Xiadodong, Zhao Zhenewei, Guan Qiang, and Deng Chun-were arrested on-site amid excavators, bulldozers, lorries, and high-powered generators.

They were mining without any licenses or documentation.

Two of the suspects were found to be in Kenya illegally. Samples taken from the site confirmed the presence of quartz.

The case moved swiftly. On April 17, 2025, all seven pleaded guilty before the Kapenguria Law Courts. Each was fined Sh3 million for unauthorised mining, with a default prison term of one year.

They were also fined for immigration violations, and those unable to pay will serve time before deportation.

While residents are vilified for informal mining, such incidents expose deeper systemic failures. Illegal extraction is not just the work of the desperate-it is also a calculated enterprise, driven by outsiders exploiting weak enforcement and a struggling population.

The environmental toll is severe. Deforestation, polluted rivers, and eroded hills scar the landscape.

County Commissioner Khaliff Abdullahi warns of escalating deaths and humanitarian crises. "We've told residents to shun illegal mining, but the warnings go unheeded," he said. "This is a serious threat to food security and education."

He cited Pokot North, Pokot Central, and the shadowy "County 48" as hotbeds of illegal activity, especially areas like River Suguta and Turkwel.

Governor Simon Kachapin has vowed to revoke all illegally acquired mining licenses. "Some investors bypassed the County Government and local communities," he said. "That must end."

He emphasised the need for responsible exploitation of the county's mineral wealth-including gold, copper, iron ore, and more-promising tighter security and a shift from lawlessness to regulation.

Yet tensions simmer. Residents in mineral-rich areas like Kiwawa, Alale, Marich, and Ortum say they've been excluded from decision-making. They fear being dispossessed, left behind while outsiders exploit their land.

Mining was briefly suspended, but activity resumed under unclear circumstances. Hotspots include Sekerr, Kambi Karaya, Lami Nyeusi, and Orwa.

At a recent funeral in Kodich, political leaders demanded an end to unlicensed mining. "Some individuals are colluding with officials to exploit our people," said MP Peter Lochakapong.

Former Governor John Lonyangapuo echoed those concerns. "Mining has become a threat to our environment and our people," he warned. "It must stop until proper procedures are followed."

Despite the danger, the corruption, and the dashed hopes, families like Kipkemoi's keep digging. Each grain of gold fuels a flicker of hope-for food, for school fees, for survival.

As the sun sets behind West Pokot's jagged hills, the clang of metal on stone echoes into the night. A boy disappears into the earth, chasing fortune. And leaving his childhood behind.