Clan performs ritual to cleanse new Malava MP in homecoming ceremony

As drums throbbed and ululations pierced the air in Malava on the afternoon of November 28, hundreds of excited residents trooped into the homestead of MP David Ndakwa for his homecoming ceremony.

But this was no ordinary political celebration. At the heart of it lay a sacred cultural practice that the Abashu clan of the Kabras sub-tribe has guarded for generations: the slaughtering of a bull to cleanse, bless and cement new leadership.

According to the clan’s long-held belief, leadership is not merely won at the ballot; it is sanctioned by God and affirmed through the community’s ancestral obligations.

And for the Abashu, no leader begins their journey without the symbolic spilling of a bull’s blood at the threshold of their home.

As Ndakwa arrived at his homestead, still basking in the jubilation of his victory in the hotly contested Malava by-election, a team of elders and young men dressed in traditional regalia took position outside his main entrance.

A heavily built, well-fed brown male bull stood tethered beside them, its presence commanding. The animal was slaughtered on the right side of Ndakwa’s entrance immediately after he took to the podium to speak. The bull was felled and its throat slit.

According to Kabras' cultural doctrine, the right side represents masculinity and authority; it signals that the leader is a man and that the community acknowledges and accepts his mandate.

Jonathan Shiomo, chairman of the Kabras Culture Association and custodian of the clan’s traditions, explained that the ritual is far more than a celebratory act.

“This bull must be slaughtered on the right side of the entrance,” Shiomo said as he supervised the ritual.

“That is how our ancestors sealed the leadership of men. It shows that the elected leader is a man, has authority, and has been accepted by the clan. It also cleanses the leader from any evil or demonic influence from his opponents that may be following him, or that he might have committed during the campaign period."

The ritual, he added, is a powerful affirmation that the Abashu clan recognises Ndakwa as their chosen leader.

During such ceremonies, the animal is slaughtered and prepared by men considered "righteous" in the community, and a specific part of the meat is given to the leader as a gesture of authority.

The blood of the bull is believed to cleanse the path ahead of him, shield him from calamities and spiritually anchor his leadership.

"Anyone with an intention to kill or poison Ndakwa cannot cross the gate because the bull's blood remaining here is to shield him. Whenever one tries, he cannot succeed," said Shiomo.

Long before modernity, the Abashu clan had a unique system of leadership — one anchored in spirituality and guided by ancestral blessings.

Even today, amid Kenya’s vibrant and fast-evolving political culture, the clan insists that true leadership is only complete after fulfilling this cultural rite.

Shiomo explained that the ritual does more than bless the leader; it reinforces the clan’s wish that leadership stays within the Abashu bloodline.

“Our traditions remind us that leadership comes from God. But as a community, we have a responsibility to protect that leadership and ensure it remains strong. This bull is slaughtered to ensure the leadership is cemented within the clan," said Shiomo.

The belief is that by spilling the bull’s blood, any misfortune, witchcraft, jealousy or ill-will directed at the leader is neutralised.

The ritual is therefore both political and spiritual — a powerful blend of tradition and cultural governance.

To the Abashu, leadership rituals are not optional; they are a duty. Elders narrated that skipping the ritual has consequences ranging from misfortune and leadership instability to conflict or unexplained calamities that befall leaders who take office without receiving cultural sanction.

“Leadership without cleansing is dangerous. The bull’s blood carries blessings and takes away misfortune. If you ignore that, you walk alone,” said Mzee Khatenje, one of the elders present at the ceremony.

He added that in earlier times, the ritual also symbolised the binding of leader and people, reminding the newly crowned leader that he serves not only by state recognition but also through ancestral responsibility.

The slaughtering of the bull brought together residents of all ages — elderly men leaning on walking sticks, young men chanting cultural praises, women adorned in colourful dresses singing traditional songs, and children watching with awe.

For many, the ritual was not just about Ndakwa. It was a celebration of their heritage and a reaffirmation of their identity at a time when many Kenyan communities are grappling with the erosion of cultural practices.

“Some people say these rituals are outdated. But for us, this is who we are. Our fathers did this, their fathers before them, and their fathers before that. To abandon this would be to abandon ourselves," noted 32-year-old resident Joshua Mwanja.

He added that in modern politics, where leaders often distance themselves from their communities once elected, the ritual serves as a reminder that leadership must remain grounded in the people’s values.

When Ndakwa later addressed the residents, he acknowledged the gesture.

“I thank the community for receiving me back home with blessings and warmth. This is a responsibility I do not take lightly. I promise to serve you with diligence, humility and commitment," he said.

In an era where many young people are detached from traditional practices, Shiomo said the Kabras elders are working to preserve such rituals for future generations.

“There is pressure from modernity, yes, but if we abandon our culture, we lose our foundation. We must teach the young people. We must show them that these rituals are not witchcraft; they are blessings," he clarified, reiterating that the ritual is performed openly, in daylight, and in the presence of the community to maintain transparency and prevent misinterpretation.