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A British firm’s bid to mine billions in Ikolomani turns bloody, leaving families mourning, leaders behind bars, and a community on the brink.

Conrad Ashioya Isese left his home in Imabwa village on Thursday morning with a simple mission: to buy a tape measure for a construction job. He never made it back. By sunset, the 31-year-old carpenter lay on a cold slab at the Kakamega County Referral Hospital, a bullet wound in his leg and his future erased—the latest casualty in the deadly scramble for Western Kenya’s buried treasure.
Ashioya is one of four people confirmed dead following violent clashes that have turned the lush ridges of Ikolomani into a battleground. What began as a routine public participation forum convened by the National Environment Management Authority (NEMA) descended into chaos, pitting stone-throwing residents against live-fire police units.
At the heart of the bloodshed is a glittering prize: a gold deposit valued at approximately KES 680 billion ($5.2 billion). But for the people of Isulu and Bushangala, this fortune feels less like a blessing and more like a curse.
Tensions had been simmering for weeks over the entry of Shanta Gold, a British firm set to acquire mining rights that would necessitate the relocation of over 800 households. On Thursday, NEMA officials arrived at Emusali Primary School to seek community consent—a legal requirement that residents claim is being rushed.
"If the government has agreed to mine gold, they must be transparent," said David Makatiani, a resident of Isulu. "We don't know who Shanta is, and we are being told to move from our ancestral lands for peanuts."
Witnesses report that the meeting disintegrated before it began. Hundreds of residents, fearful of losing their land, stormed the venue. They tore down tents, burned plastic chairs, and set the administration block of the neighboring secondary school ablaze. Police responded with tear gas and, eventually, live bullets.
Western Regional Police Commander Issa Mohamoud defended the force's actions, describing the protesters as "hired goons" intent on killing officers. "They wanted to disrupt government operations and intimidate investors," Mohamoud said, noting that two officers were critically injured and a pistol magazine was stolen during the melee.
The state’s response has been swift and severe. By Saturday morning, 66 people were in custody. Among them are two Members of the County Assembly (MCAs): Idakho Central’s Akedius Liyayi and Nominated MCA Ann Mulwale.
Police accuse the politicians of funding the chaos. "They are the ones who were dishing out money to the protesters," Mohamoud alleged. "Investigations are ongoing to unmask their masters."
But on the ground, the narrative is one of indiscriminate force. Families camping outside Kakamega Police Station describe a terrifying door-to-door operation where young men were dragged from their beds. "My brother was not even at the protest," said Edgar Wekesa, the brother of the slain carpenter. "He was working. Why did he have to die for gold he will never see?"
The tragedy in Ikolomani highlights the stark disconnect between Kenya’s macroeconomic ambitions and the reality of its citizens. The KES 680 billion potential revenue from the project could transform the region's economy. Yet, for the artisanal miners who have scratched a living from these soils for decades, the arrival of a multinational giant threatens their only source of income.
Kakamega Governor Fernandes Barasa has called for an immediate probe, urging restraint. "No disagreement should ever lead to loss of life," he stated. But for the families identifying bodies at the mortuary today, such calls ring hollow.
As the dust settles on the red earth of Ikolomani, the gold remains buried, but the grief is now on full display. The question haunting the community is no longer just about compensation, but about survival. As one grieving mother put it outside the police station, "What is the value of gold if it is washed in the blood of our children?"
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