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From Caravans to Rifles: The Akamba People’s Journey Through Colonialism

0xChura  ·  Aug. 12, 2025

Pre-Colonial Prosperity and Power

In the decades before European rule, the Akamba (or Kamba) combined farming and herding with hunting and commerce, becoming one of East Africa’s great trading peoples. By the mid-19th century, their long-distance networks stretched from the Indian Ocean coast to the Mount Kenya region, carrying ivory, beeswax, honey and other goods hundreds of miles between coastal traders and inland communities. Akamba traders acted as indispensable middlemen in these exchanges. Krapf described ivory caravans of two or three hundred people. In November 1849, he visited the trader Kivoi at Kitui, and in August 1851 he recorded Kivoi leading about 200 men to recover cattle from the Atua, whom he described as another Kamba group, and returning after negotiating peace. Ivory was central to the commerce that brought considerable wealth. Captives were also sold to coastal slave traders or kept in Kamba households; Hobley described local sales of captured girls, and Krapf recorded Kivoi setting enslaved women to grind corn. Trade profits were often invested in cattle: large herds marked prosperity and provided insurance against the droughts that periodically struck their semi-arid homeland. Hunters exchanged ivory for cattle, with the largest share going to the man whose arrow first wounded the elephant. Cattle paid bridewealth and bought grades of elders’ rank.

The same bows served hunting, caravan defence and warfare. Skilled archers defended their caravan routes and protected their homes from raiders, but also raided cattle and took captives. Local elders’ councils governed shared affairs; Lindblom’s informants described elders authorising offensive raids and experienced leaders directing unmarried and younger married fighters, and at Machakos men appointed from each age class divided the captured cattle. The Akamba’s formidable military reputation rested on mastery of the bow and lethal poison-tipped arrows that could kill man or beast. Kamba guides served European explorers and led coastal caravans. By the 1880s, the Akamba remained independent and parts of Ulu were rich in cattle, although the long-distance trade had declined.

The British Conquest of Ukambani and Akamba Resistance

British colonial control over the Akamba was not achieved in one grand battle, but through a gradual process of guile, force, and fragmentation. Initial contact came in the late 1880s, when agents of the Imperial British East Africa Company (IBEAC) ventured into Ukambani under the guise of traders and explorers. In 1889, a British expedition led by Frederick Jackson reached Machakos – the heart of Akamba territory – and established a post to buy grain for Company caravans. The British built Fort Machakos, with a single British officer and a small garrison of Swahili guards initially holding the fort. Rather than appearing as invaders, the British presented themselves as partners in commerce. In March 1890, Lugard wrote that the Company only pretended to protect the local leader N'sibu. He refused a treaty on the proposed terms and gave him a flag instead. They offered the host community access to coveted trade goods (cloth, beads, wire).

Once the Machakos fort was built, the British gradually tightened their grip and expanded their influence – a phase of consolidation that relied heavily on divide-and-rule tactics. The first garrison at Fort Machakos was Swahili, but by 1893 Ainsworth was replacing it with Kamba recruits from Iveti. Kamba men served on both sides of the conquest. The British imperial agents brought in professional soldiers from outside: Sudanese and Nubian troops who had served in other colonial campaigns, as well as coastal Swahili and Somali guards seasoned in caravan warfare. A British officer, Captain E. G. Harrison, brought a detachment of Sudanese troops and a machine gun to Machakos from the coast at the end of April 1896. The British also enlisted warriors from neighboring communities – even traditional Kamba adversaries – to bolster their strength. The Maasai, famed fighters who had their own reasons to cooperate, were frequently employed as a colonial auxiliary force. Through this strategy, the British created a buffer of loyal (or simply well-paid) African soldiers to police Ukambani. This outsourcing of violence was key to British success: it pitted Africans against Africans under British command, minimizing British losses and exploiting inter-ethnic divisions. According to historian Robert Tignor, twenty Kamba askaris joined the British expedition against Mwala in 1894. The force burned villages and seized cattle and goats. Meanwhile, the British cultivated alliances with certain Akamba leaders willing to collaborate. Kamba militia who cooperated received payments for their service. In its early years the Machakos fort was twice attacked by Kamba warriors.

Beneath the surface peace, however, Akamba discontent was smoldering. The Akamba in the late 19th century were a proud, economically powerful people – renowned long-distance traders and formidable warriors who had grown wealthy raiding neighbors and bartering ivory and cattle. They did not simply submit or “give up” without cause. Tensions quickly arose as the realities of British presence became clear. The IBEAC and, after 1895, the British colonial administration started to interfere in Akamba affairs and traditions in ways that threatened the Kamba way of life. For instance, colonial officers arbitrarily restricted the Akamba’s lucrative trade and raiding practices, undermining their economy. British officials declared an end to inter-tribal warfare and slave trading, and they forbade the Akamba from conducting their age-old cattle raids against the Kikuyu or Maasai. To the Akamba, these edicts struck at both their wealth and their prestige – it was as if the British were imposing ruinous peace on terms that only benefited outsiders. Moreover, the behavior of some British company caravans and soldiers inflamed local anger. There were reports of company porters stealing food and property, and of soldiers showing blatant disrespect for Kamba customs. A notorious early flashpoint came in 1891 when British agents cut down a tree at an ithembo shrine in the Iveti hills for the station’s flagpole – an affront to Akamba spiritual beliefs. This sacrilege provoked a violent reaction: in 1891 warriors from the Iveti hills attacked the British station at Masaku (Machakos) in protest. The uprising was a symbol that the Akamba would not tolerate insult to their traditions. However, it was brutally put down by the well-armed colonial forces. Superintendent George Leith at Machakos responded with rifle fire and sent troops to burn houses in retaliation. The harsh suppression sent a chilling message throughout Ukambani: the British would not hesitate to use modern firepower against those who resisted.

Despite such warnings, Akamba resistance continued in waves during the 1890s, driven by anger at the growing colonial stranglehold. One focal point of resistance was a wealthy and influential trader-warrior named Mwatu wa Ngoma. By 1894, Mwatu wa Ngoma emerged as a leader dissatisfied with British dictates. That year, he organized Kamba warriors and openly threatened to attack the British fort at Machakos. John Ainsworth – the Company’s station superintendent – sent a force to raid Mwala on 6 March 1894. In the aftermath, Mwatu wa Ngoma sued for peace. He paid four bullocks and one hundred goats and promised friendship towards the Company. Mwatu became a key ally and intermediary for the Company. This defection was a blow to the resistance, as it removed one of the Kamba’s potential unifying leaders. It also exemplified the British carrot-and-stick approach: crush the open rebellion, then co-opt its leader with rewards, thereby neutralizing future opposition.

Yet even as some leaders sided with the foreigners, other Akamba chose to fight on. The mantle of resistance passed to a bold war leader from Kangundo named Mwana Muka. By 1895–96, Mwana Muka had become the figurehead of armed opposition to colonial rule in Ukambani. He was outraged by the creeping British domination and particularly by the presence of British “boma” camps (military posts) on Kamba land. These posts, such as new garrisons at Mwala and Kyaana, were seen as instruments to enforce the hated ban on raiding and to assert foreign control. Mwana Muka called upon his people to drive out the intruders and their local collaborators – even urging an attack on Mwatu wa Ngoma’s own village, since Mwatu had “sold out” to the colonialists. The conflict escalated into a serious armed insurrection. At the end of 1895, the British (now formally ruling Kenya as the East Africa Protectorate) launched a “punitive expedition” to snuff out the Kangundo rebellion. In reality, this campaign looked much like an ethnic proxy war. Ainsworth had only a small contingent of regular troops at his disposal, so he enlisted about a thousand Maasai warriors and sent them to fight Mwana Muka’s forces. To the Akamba, this felt like an old enemy being unleashed upon them with British backing. The British-backed expedition passed through Mwala, Kyaana, Kathome and Kanzalu from 2 to 10 December 1895. The expedition burned villages and took over 500 cattle, 1,000 goats and about sixty women and children as captives, according to Maxon’s account. The expedition devastated villages and resembled the traditional Maasai-Kamba warfare of prior decades, except now it had British organization behind it. Despite the damage, Mwana Muka was not entirely defeated. Some of his warriors melted into the bushy hills and continued to harass the colonial forces. Rather than surrender, Mwana Muka regrouped and resorted to guerrilla tactics. He and his followers ambushed patrols and cut off key roads, determined to isolate the British. At one point in 1896, the rebels even managed to blockade the route between Machakos and Fort Smith (near Nairobi) at a place called Lukenya, disrupting communications between colonial posts. Sensing that the situation was spiraling out of control, Ainsworth called for reinforcements. In March 1896, Mwana Muka’s fighters raided near Fort Machakos and seized cattle penned beside it. Ainsworth sought emergency help from Fort Smith. On 13 April, 900 Maasai and 300 Kikuyu arrived from Fort Smith. Lane led a second expedition deep into Kangundo and the surrounding hills from 14 to 17 April 1896. This time a mixed column of British-led African troops – including Kikuyu fighters (another rival of the Kamba) alongside the Maasai – stormed through the rebel zone. Villages were razed, and livestock was confiscated on a massive scale. Caught between starvation and annihilation, Mwana Muka’s stronghold could hold out no longer. By the end of June 1896, the northern Kamba had made formal peace. He agreed to lay down arms in exchange for an end to the devastation of his people. The British, eager to secure the region, spared his life but made an example of Kangundo. They established a temporary East Africa Rifles post, but withdrew the force to Machakos later in 1896. Rachel Watt describes Captain Harrison demonstrating a machine gun on a tree in front of Mwana Muka. Later in 1896, the abandoned officers' dwelling at Kangundo was rented to missionaries for five rupees a year. With this crushing of Mwana Muka’s rebellion, organized armed resistance in Ukambani was effectively broken by 1897. The Akamba had not been defeated in a single grand war, but rather chopped into pieces – each uprising isolated and overwhelmed before it could merge into a wider conflagration.

Several key factors explain how a relatively wealthy and powerful people like the Akamba succumbed to colonial rule in this way:

In summary, the conquest of the Akamba was achieved through a mix of stealthy infiltration, local alliances, and overwhelming punitive force rather than any single epic battle. The Akamba did not simply surrender meekly; they tested the invaders’ strength in a series of uprisings and tactical engagements throughout the 1890s. However, each rebellion was systematically isolated and crushed by the British, who wielded superior weaponry and a shrewd policy of divide-and-rule. By 1900, after years of intermittent fighting, heavy human and cattle losses, and a catastrophic famine, the Akamba had been effectively subdued. Their territory, once vibrant with caravan trade and warrior prestige, was brought under the colonial Pax Britannica – enforced by forts, African mercenary armies, and co-opted Kamba allies. This slow and deliberate conquest of Ukambani fills in the story of how a once-powerful people were brought under British dominion. It was not a tale of instant submission, but of resilience met with ruthlessness, and of a proud nation finally bowing to a relentless foreign power that had enforced its rule through successive military campaigns. The legacy of this history lives on in Akamba memory, marking the end of their sovereignty and the beginning of a new, colonial era in Kenya.

This pragmatic adaptation to their defeat set the stage for the next, equally dramatic chapter of their history: the transformation from defiant warriors into prominent soldiers of the very empire they had fought.

Taxes, Land Loss and Submission

Colonial officials understood that as long as the Akamba could live off their herds and caravan trade, they would resist becoming a labour pool for the new regime. The British response was a calculated squeeze: taxes and land seizures designed to break the Akamba economy. Starting in the early 1900s, a hut tax and later a poll tax were imposed; the hut tax was levied per hut and could initially be paid in kind, while the 1910 poll tax extended liability to unmarried men over sixteen. This increased pressure on Akamba to seek wage work to afford the new taxes. As the Machakos District Commissioner wrote in 1913, increasing taxation to drive Africans out to work was “forced labour under a subterfuge”. In 1919, Ainsworth signed a circular directing officials and chiefs to encourage wage labour.

Land policies were even more disruptive. The colonial government took land for European settlers, including fertile land in the Mua Hills, and imposed reserve boundaries that restricted access to grazing. About 2,000 Kamba were expelled from the Mua Hills in 1908–10, while other boundary changes cut off grazing used during droughts. Machakos and Kitui reserves differed sharply: in 1932 their population densities were 110 and 26 people per square mile respectively, and grazing was a particular pressure in Machakos. Crucially, restrictions reduced their freedom to move with their cattle in search of water and pasture. For a people whose livelihood depended on mobility and range, this was devastating.

An early sign of this subjugation was the Akamba’s grudging turn to the colonial labor market. During the First World War, some Kamba served in the army and police, while far larger numbers were conscripted as porters. Officials estimated that 77 percent of Machakos's adult men and 75 percent of Kitui's had been enlisted at some point during the First World War. The Kamba later submitted 187 sworn statements of land and cattle losses to the Land Commission. Their age-old autonomy was being eroded, one tax receipt and land title at a time.

Forging a “Martial Race”: Akamba Soldiers of the Empire

What happened next was a transformation few could have predicted. The very skills and qualities that had made the Akamba formidable in pre-colonial times – courage, discipline, marksmanship – were co-opted by the colonial state. British recruiters eagerly enlisted Akamba men into the King’s African Rifles (KAR), the British East African army, especially from the late 1920s through World War II. In the eyes of the British, the Kamba were ideal soldier material. Jackson Mulinge recalled going to Machakos market at fifteen with his older sister to sell chickens for a school uniform. Recruiters took him away in a truck to a training centre in Uganda. Officials and officers came to laud them as a “martial race”.

This martial race theory – an imported colonial idea that certain ethnic groups were innately warlike and loyal – became a self-fulfilling prophecy in Ukambani. Denied other avenues of advancement, thousands of Akamba embraced the military life. Kamba wartime service included conscripted porters in the First World War and both volunteers and forcibly recruited men in the Second. They fought in Britain’s campaigns in Africa and Asia, gaining a reputation as reliable, brave soldiers. Historian Timothy Parsons reports that the Akamba supplied the King’s African Rifles with recruits at three to four times their share of Kenya’s population. Kamba made up 7.3 percent of Kenyan KAR askaris in 1927 and 23.2 percent in 1938. Other Kenyan communities contributed fighting men out of proportion to their size.

British propaganda eagerly reinforced this identity. During the Mau Mau Emergency of the 1950s, when a rebellion led primarily by the Kikuyu shook colonial Kenya, Akamba troops in the security forces were praised for their loyalty. In 1956, Kamba made up 21.6 percent of Kenya's police officers. Their share of the population recorded in the 1962 census was 10.5 percent. In February 1953, Kibwezi Kilonzo, a Kamba Game Department employee, became a tracker for the Kenya Regiment. He assisted patrols in the Aberdares. Parsons records that a Kamba corporal was sentenced to death in 1955 for selling ammunition to Mau Mau. Parsons describes East Africa Command propaganda praising Kamba askaris for loyalty during the Mau Mau Emergency. Colonial observers spoke of the Kamba in almost romantic terms, praising their courage and technical aptitude, according to Parsons. The irony was rich: a generation earlier the British had broken the Akamba’s real economic power; now they offered the flattery of a fabricated warrior mystique. And the Akamba, for the most part, embraced this new identity. Military service became a respected rite of passage. Enlistment, though born of necessity, also restored masculine honour. Within the crowded reserves the old yardsticks of status - cattle, caravan wealth, and ritual generosity - had not all vanished. The army offered new rituals: drill, marksmanship, and a paybook that could buy bride-wealth cattle. Soldiering thus became a pragmatic adaptation: a path to economic survival and to reclaiming social esteem in a reordered world.

The Costs of Transformation: Livelihoods in Decline

The colonial “bargain” that the Akamba struck – trading economic autonomy for military employment – was not without dire consequences back home. Ukambani’s once-thriving pastoral economy faced repeated drought losses and restricted grazing by the mid-20th century. With their movements restricted and pastures limited, the Akamba suffered drought losses, though Machakos alone still had about a quarter of a million cattle around 1930. Environmental pressures and colonial policies combined to exact a heavy toll. Soil erosion and overgrazing in the crowded reserve led to a series of agricultural disasters. Famines that had been episodic in the 19th century became a chronic threat under colonial rule. The colonial authorities often blamed the Akamba for “overstocking” cattle on degraded land – while reserve boundaries, population growth and growing herds intensified pressure on grazing.

Matters came to a head in 1938, when the government attempted a draconian destocking program. Most Kamba headmen were reluctant to enforce the 1938 cattle reductions. In Matungulu, headman Nzioka enforced the scheme, and opponents surrounded his house with bushes and sticks to ostracise him. Officials imposed compulsory sales of Kamba cattle, arguing that herds must be cut down to preserve the environment; on 7 July 1938, they seized 2,500 animals at Ngelani after owners resisted the scheme. This assault on their cattle provoked a remarkable response: the Akamba staged a massive, largely non-violent protest. Led by local leaders like Muindi Mbingu (a former policeman whose calm resolve turned grievance into disciplined mass action), thousands of men and women marched and petitioned against the seizure of their animals. About two thousand Kamba men, women and children marched to Nairobi on 28 July 1938. They camped beside the market on Racecourse Road, and two babies were born there in the first week. Kamba veterans raised money for the Nairobi protest camp and operated telephones for the Ukamba Members Association. Officials worried that discontent would spread among the soldiers on whom they depended. Nduba, a Kenya Police sergeant-major, was among the early leaders of the opposition to destocking at Ngelani in 1938. So determined was the Akamba resistance that the colonial administration ended forced auction sales in August and called off compulsory culling in December 1938. Muindi Mbingu was deported to Lamu on 4 October 1938. Makhan Singh records that he remained under restriction for more than eight years. The victory was bittersweet – it showed that the Akamba had not lost their capacity to unite and defend their interests, yet their traditional wealth was by then a shadow of what it had been. Even without forced destocking, the old pastoral abundance was largely gone.

With older caravan routes displaced and cattle wealth per person reduced, poverty and dependency settled over Ukambani. Many families survived on remittances sent home by sons in the army or by wage labor on settler farms. British policy had effectively turned a once self-sufficient people into one reliant on the colonial economy. The social structure changed accordingly: colonial chiefs and ex-army sergeants gained influence, while traditional elders who once held power through wealth in cattle saw their authority wane. In Kitui, former soldier Solomon Kasina became a colonial chief in 1927. His staff included tribal police, and witnesses later recalled livestock seized from tax defaulters and sold at auction.

The loss of autonomy and wealth also had cultural repercussions. The Akamba had to adapt their values and identity to a new reality where soldiering and farming small plots were the main means of survival. The proud caravanners of old now queued for wages or veterans’ pensions. The transformation was nearly complete.

Legacy and Identity in the Post-Colonial Era

When Kenya finally achieved independence in 1963, the Akamba entered the new era still carrying the burdens laid on them by colonial history. In the young Kenyan national army and police, Kamba officers and rank-and-file stood out, reflecting their long “martial” tradition. Jackson Mulinge came from Kathiani in Machakos. He was among the first eight Kenyan African officers commissioned on 15 July 1961. Jackson Mulinge commanded 3 Kenya Rifles in the Shifta War and received a state honour on 1 June 1967. In its 2013 report on abuses during that war, Kenya’s Truth, Justice and Reconciliation Commission named him among the commanders with direct responsibility for its conduct. Jackson Mulinge commanded Kenya's army from 1969 to 1978. He served as chief of general staff, heading all Kenya's armed forces, from 1978 to 1986. On 1 August 1982, Air Force rebels tried to overthrow President Moi and seized the national broadcaster. Loyal troops under Major-General Mahmoud Mohamed retook it that day. Kitui lawyer Willy Mutunga was detained without trial on 29 July 1982, before the August coup attempt, under the Preservation of Public Security Act. He was released on 20 October 1983. Kamba were prominent in the army after independence: a 1967 estimate put them at 28 percent of the officer corps. Thirty-one of the first eighty-one African army officers identified by historian Poppy Cullen through August 1963 were Kamba. Weeks after independence, soldiers at Lanet rebelled over pay and British command, and British troops disarmed them. This legacy has been a double-edged sword. On one hand, military and police employment continued to provide livelihoods and a source of pride for many Kamba families after independence. On the other hand, Ukambani remained economically marginal. The region’s reliance on rain-fed agriculture ensured that droughts and food shortages persisted. Decades after colonial rule ended, the Akamba homeland still struggles with water scarcity, poor soils, and underdevelopment, difficulties aggravated by colonial restrictions on land and grazing. A study of Machakos from 1930 to 1990 found that farmers restored parts of the landscape through terracing, planting and local investment. Its population grew more than fivefold during the same period. In 2022, KNBS estimated individual overall poverty at 58.3 percent in Kitui, 44.7 percent in Makueni and 38.3 percent in Machakos. The national rate was 39.8 percent.

To understand the modern Akamba predicament is to understand a subtle, different kind of tragedy. The Akamba experienced a catastrophic loss in the famine of 1898–99 as well as a slow erosion of an identity and way of life. One interpretation compares the Akamba with their neighbours the Maasai: the Maasai were romanticised and frozen in time by colonialism, often displayed as colourful “noble savages” for tourists even as their wealth was stripped away. The Akamba, by contrast, were fundamentally reshaped by the colonial experience, encouraged to become something new – soldiers of the Empire – at the expense of their former selves.

How Far They Fell: Three Stolen Pillars

The extent of Akamba transformation can be measured by looking at what pillars of their society were dismantled:

The Illusory Bargain – A Final Reckoning

What did the Akamba gain in return for all they lost? The colonial powers did confer certain short-term benefits on those who cooperated: a Kamba rifleman earned a wage, saw the world, and on retirement might buy a plot of land or open a small business with his savings. The British were quick to tout the “civilising” fruits of Empire – roads, clinics, schools – some of which did reach Ukambani. After 1945, Britain used development money to secure the loyalty of Kamba soldiers and police, according to historian Myles Osborne. Kamba chiefs and veterans demanded benefits in return for their wartime service. During the Mau Mau Emergency, Kamba schemes were allocated 53 percent of the funds assigned to specific places for major betterment, settlement and ranching schemes in the Swynnerton Plan. Yet these advantages were paltry compared to the price paid. The Akamba had, in essence, traded away their economic sovereignty and much of their cultural autonomy for a dubious honour of being labeled a “martial race.” It was a bargain struck under duress, not a partnership of equals.

Perhaps the bitterest irony is that the Akamba’s greatest strengths – their unity, discipline and bravery – were turned into instruments of their own domination. They helped build and police the colonial order that had impoverished them. Akamba soldiers served in the colonial security forces; in Kitui, Chief Solomon Kasina’s tax-collecting staff included tribal police. In the long view, the colonial period remade the Akamba psyche and society to serve imperial ends, leaving them stripped of the wealth and independence that once defined them.

More than half a century after independence, the Akamba people continue to reckon with this complex inheritance. The United States designated Kenya a Major Non-NATO Ally on 24 June 2024. The next day, Kenyan police arrived in Haiti while protesters breached Parliament in Nairobi. Debt service equalled 68.3 percent of ordinary government revenue in the financial year 2023/24. KNCHR recorded thirty-nine deaths countrywide in the protest period from 18 June through its 1 July 2024 update. On 25 June 2024, Kenya’s government deployed the defence forces to support the police during protests against the Finance Bill. A revised military deployment notice of 28 June 2024 set no calendar end date. On 19 March 2025, Defence Secretary Soipan Tuya told senators that the deployment had not been revoked. Erickson Kyalo Mutisya, 25, was shot dead outside Parliament on 25 June 2024 and buried at Kisekini in Kathiani on 12 July. A BBC investigation later attributed his shooting to a police officer. A BBC investigation attributed Eric Shieni's fatal shooting outside Parliament to a member of the Kenya Defence Forces. Amnesty International called for action by both the police and the defence forces. They remain proud Kenyans and proud of their contributions to the nation’s military and public life. Willy Mutunga served as chief justice from 2011 to 2016. In 2024, AP reported on communities in Machakos and Makueni building sand dams to sustain water supplies. At the same time, the lingering underdevelopment of their home region and the fading collective memory of their days as wealthy caravan masters serve as a poignant reminder of how drastically – and how quickly – a society’s fortune can turn. The story of the Akamba from the late 19th century to today is a story of adaptation under extreme pressure. It stands as both a caution and an inspiration: a cautionary tale of how economic subjugation can unravel even a strong and vibrant culture, and an inspiring testament to the resilience of a people who, despite everything, did not vanish and continue to shape their own destiny within the new Africa.

References

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