From Eldoret to the Donbas: The 200+ Kenyans Now Fighting for Russia
ELDORET – Twenty-four-year-old Emmanuel Kipchoge Cheruiyot (no relation to the marathon legend) left his village in Moiben on a cold July morning with a small backpack and a promise of $2,000 a month. Three months later his mother received a single photo: Emmanuel in Russian camouflage, holding an AK-12 somewhere near the Ukrainian border.
He is one of at least 218 Kenyans the government now admits have enlisted in the Russian military since mid-2024. Prime Cabinet Secretary Musalia Mudavadi’s parliamentary statement on Thursday confirmed the figure and triggered an emergency debate that lasted until dawn.
Most recruits are young men from Uasin Gishu, Trans-Nzoia, Bungoma, and Kisumu – counties with high youth unemployment and a tradition of labour migration. Agents operating out of rented offices in Eldoret and Kitale have been promising Russian citizenship after three years of service, full medical cover, and salaries “ten times what you earn guarding maize in Kenya.” Many sign contracts written entirely in Russian that they cannot read.
The journey typically begins with a tourist visa to Dubai or Istanbul, then a connecting flight to Moscow, and finally a bus to a training camp in Rostov-on-Don. From there, some are sent straight to the front lines. At least eight Kenyan families have received unofficial confirmation through Telegram channels that their sons are missing or dead. One video circulating on X shows a wounded Kenyan pleading in Swahili for someone to tell his mother he is alive.
Kenya has no military agreement with Russia that permits such recruitment. Foreign Affairs PS Korir Sing’oei summoned the Russian ambassador last week and demanded an immediate halt and a full list of Kenyan nationals currently under Russian command. Moscow’s response so far: silence.
Back home, parents have formed a WhatsApp group called “Bring Our Boys Home.” They meet every evening at 7 p.m. under a tree in Soy to pray and share whatever scraps of information trickle in. One mother, Beatrice Chepkorir, showed VCDigest a voice note from her son recorded in September: “Mum, it’s not what they told us. It’s cold, and people are dying every day. If I don’t come back, use the money I sent to finish the house.”
Opposition leaders have accused the government of turning a blind eye because some recruitment agents are politically connected. Police in Eldoret raided two offices last month but released the suspects hours later. Human Rights Watch has labelled the phenomenon “21st-century mercenary trafficking” and is preparing a case at the International Criminal Court.
For now, more than 200 Kenyan mothers go to bed every night wondering whether the next knock on the door will be a son coming home – or a stranger bringing terrible news from a war most Kenyans only see on TikTok.