Kenya Police Officers Returning From Haiti Recount Horror Experiences of Fighting The Deadly Criminal Gangs

The dining hall at the Police Training College in Embakasi was thick with emotion yesterday as 230 Kenyan police officers who had stared death in the face for 18 months in gang-ravaged Haiti finally came home.

These were not the same men and women who had boarded Kenya Airways flights bound for Port-au-Prince over a year ago. They returned hardened, scarred, and carrying memories that will haunt them for years to come.

Three of their colleagues never made it back alive. Samuel Tompei Kaetuai, Benedict Kabiru and Kennedy Mutuku Nzuve paid the ultimate price in a mission that tested every ounce of courage the Kenyan contingent could muster.

Senior Superintendent of Police Clapperton Imbiru painted a chilling picture of what awaited them when they touched down in the Caribbean nation’s capital. International airlines had abandoned Haiti, too terrified of the gangs that controlled everything from airports to highways. Only Kenya Airways dared to fly.

“When we arrived, gang members were shooting from all directions,” Imbiru recalled, his voice steady but his eyes betraying the horror of those early days. “We were able to counter that, but it was a battlefield. Casualties were expected.”

The officers found themselves in a warzone masquerading as a peacekeeping mission. Highways had been seized by heavily armed criminals who demanded illegal taxes from terrified citizens. Neighbourhoods were paralysed by fear. The seaports were under gang control. Even the police academy at Port Libre had fallen.

Rest was a luxury they could not afford. The threats never stopped. Day and night, the Kenyan officers patrolled, fought, and slowly began to wrest control from the gangs that had turned Haiti into a living hell for its people.

They methodically moved through Port-au-Prince, reopening roads that had been closed for months. They freed communities that had been held hostage. They secured critical installations and even managed to train new police recruits while bullets flew around them.

“The mission was not a walk in the park,” Imbiru said bluntly. “Had we not been careful, well-trained and efficient, casualties could have been worse.”

The gang leader known as “Barbecue” had become a figure of terror in Haiti, and his threats against the Kenyan contingent before their arrival had sent waves of panic back home. Kenyans held their breath, fed by a constant stream of misinformation and fake news about the mission.

But month after month, the officers survived. They adapted. They fought back.

Communication with loved ones back home was a lifeline that gangs tried repeatedly to sever by sabotaging internet networks. Monthly data bundles arranged from Nairobi became precious commodities, allowing video calls that kept homesickness and despair at bay.

Language barriers complicated everything. The officers found themselves operating in a French-speaking nation while trying to coordinate with American, Jamaican and Guatemalan colleagues. Yet somehow, they made it work. They even taught their international counterparts how to cook ugali after a local miller shipped in five tonnes of maize flour.

Interior Cabinet Secretary Kipchumba Murkomen, who welcomed the officers home, acknowledged the propaganda war that had raged around the mission. “People said a man called ‘Barbecue’ would butcher you. When you left, Kenyans held their breath,” he said. “But you did a fantastic job. We are proud of you.”

National Security Adviser Monica Juma revealed that even US Secretary of State and President Donald Trump had personally thanked Kenya for its professionalism. “They said the Gang Suppression Force would not have had a leg to stand on without the Kenyan contingent,” she told the officers.

Inspector General Douglas Kanja praised what he called a groundbreaking global security effort. “You opened roads, seaports and airports. You turned what many thought was mission impossible into a successful operation.”

Deputy Inspector General Gilbert Masengeli of the Administration Police Service offered perhaps the most moving tribute. “A brave warrior is not only known by the absence of scars, but by the strength with which he carries them. We also lost valiant officers in the line of duty. Their memories remain in our hearts.”

Chief Inspector Joseph Kiriago from the General Service Unit said the officers’ dedication never wavered despite the constant danger. Paul Wahonya Otieno, another GSU officer, confessed he had wondered if he would ever see his family again. “It is a great honour to be here, especially knowing that many people believed that we would not make it back.”

As the officers settled into relaxed conversation for the first time in months, some laughed quietly while others stared ahead, still absorbing the magnitude of being home. Their families will embrace them today at the same Police College, but yesterday, surrounded by colleagues who understood every unspoken memory, they were already home.

“Service to humanity has no retreat. We flew our flag high. We protected Kenya’s name,” Imbiru said, smiling as he concluded his remarks. “But East or West, home is best.”

The officers’ allowances are being processed, and several will form part of an After-Action Review team to help reform future police training. Their expertise, bought with blood and sacrifice in the streets of Port-au-Prince, will now be used to strengthen the Kenya Police Service.

This was just the first mission, officials say. More will follow. But for now, 230 officers who survived Haiti’s gang horror are finally home, carrying scars both visible and hidden, and stories that will be told for generations.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​