The festive season comes with its own rhythm. Roads fill with travellers returning home, markets overflow with shopping lists, and families gather for celebrations, reflections and reunions.
However, in many communities across the country – the Maasai, Meru, Bukusu, Kisii, Samburu, Kuria, and parts of the Kalenjin regions, December holds deeper meaning. It is the season of initiation, the time when boys transition into men.
For generations, this window between harvest and holiday break has been sacred and revered. It is a time when communities pause, gather, teach, bless and release their sons into a new chapter of identity.
Today, the practice still exists, but with new adaptations, questions and conversations.
Last week in Narok, a 16-year-old, Martin Napayian Ntutu, Form Three boy, stood quietly near a doorway leading to a small room, which was soon to be his personal room, from the main house where he had spent all these years with his younger siblings. He was the firstborn son of the Ole Ntutu family.
His posture was stiff, not from fear, but from the weight of expectation. His community had gathered in large numbers – over 500 people, boys, girls, morans, women and women, some with their families, had come to witness a cultural milestone.
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Around him, preparations unfolded: ululations, traditional songs, blessings from elders, laughter and storytelling. Morans stood tall, decorated with ochre, beads and years of inherited confidence. Women prepared large pots of food, meat, ugali, milk and traditional beverages reserved for sacred occasions. It was not only a celebration, but also a cultural curriculum.
Unlike his forefathers, Napayian’s circumcision was performed by a trained medical doctor, a symbol of modern safety replacing traditional tools.
However, everything else remained deeply Maasai – the mentorship, the isolation period, the presence of morans, the community witness, the expectations of behaviour, the lessons on responsibility, respect and identity.
Napayian would spend three weeks healing and learning, guided by selected elders and morans who had walked the path before him.
In the midst of all this, Lemarti Ole Legishon, an elder, leaned forward as if sharing a secret and whispered to me as I watched in awe: “The cut does not make him a man, the teaching does.” The Maa community is not alone in this. Across Kenya, similar transitions continue, albeit with varied approaches.
Some parents and communities hold group circumcisions, creating bonds of brotherhood that last decades. Others now prefer hospital settings, private family events or church-guided rites such as Christian ROP (Rite of Passage) camps, gaining popularity in Nairobi, Nakuru and Eldoret.
A tradition under evolution
The purpose, though, remains constant across culture and faith: to equip boys with identity, responsibility, discipline and belonging.
“Adolescence is the most vulnerable time for identity development, and if boys do not receive intentional mentorship, they will seek identity from the internet, peers, or toxic influences,” says Child and Family Psychologist David Munyasia.
He adds that modern boys are exposed to: hyper-sexualised content, unrealistic masculinity from social media influencers, peer pressure, violence-as-status thinking, and without guidance, many boys feel lost — despite being surrounded by technology.
The expert says as the world modernises, many parents have many questions they ask, among them: “Should we maintain cultural rites? Is medical circumcision enough? Where do we draw the line between tradition and trauma? What do we replace the mentorship with if we abandon the cultural model?
Family Coach Catherine Mugendi says many homes, especially in urban settings, unconsciously avoid uncomfortable subjects such as: “We assume boys will figure themselves out. “However, silence is not guidance, and boys need direction, not distance,” she says.
Simeon Tiampeti, a father to three teenage boys says: “A recurring theme in parenting forums that he has been privy to is the worry that boys are being raised mostly by women, not intentionally, but because of, work schedules, cultural withdrawal of men from parenting, absence of uncles (modern diaspora families), fewer intergenerational households, church teaching roles dominated by women, single parenting realities.
Educationist and author, Professor Rebecca Wambua, summarises it powerfully: “Masculinity cannot be outsourced, and boys must see, sit with and learn from men.”
Prof Wambua explains that parents may not all embrace cultural rites, but they can honour the essence behind them. These, she says, include mentorship, accountability, identity formation, emotional and social responsibility, and belonging.
“These values transcend tribe,” says the Professor.
As the drums faded in Eoret Narasha, Duka Moja, Narok, and the newly circumcised Lapayian were escorted to his mentorship stay, the teaching continued. He wasn’t just healing. He was learning how to be a man.
Perhaps the lesson for all parents this December is simple: Manhood is not a biological milestone; it is a guided journey.
“Parents, whether in the village or in the city, have a role to create intentional pathways for boys to transition with dignity, clarity, safety and support,” says Tiampeti.