My hood: Inside a village so dark, locals named it 'Karima Kanduma'

When it was said, “Let there be light”, Kanduma village in Dundori Ward may have missed the memo.

Tucked in the green fields of Mugwathi sub-location with a half-tarmacked road leading to the nearest shopping centre, the community recently decided its nickname to be Karima Kanduma, loosely translated by locals as “the mountain of darkness.”

We spoke to long-time resident Joram Njuguna Kinyanjui, popularly known as Karia Kega, who traces the origin of the name.

“When the community started pushing for electricity many years ago, our area was left behind. People would say that we were living in the mountain of darkness. Up to today, we have areas in Kanduma still waiting for lights,” he says.

Kanduma is made up of four clusters — Wanyororo Jemus, Wanyororo, Kiamunyeki, and Mathare.

According to Njuguna, the first attempt to bring electricity came during the tenure of a former MP, Kimani Ngunjiri, when phase one connected Wanyororo Jemus.

The first ever transformer was installed at Bavuni Centre, but it could only power that section, with some parts of phase two in darkness and phases three and four left pending, with locals told a transformer was unnecessary and is en route, respectively.

“We’d hear about Last Mile, CDF projects, government plans…but nothing reached us. Leaders come and go, but our villages remain in darkness,” notes Karia Kega.

Recently, even after the residents’ push to leaders to extend the grid, electric poles were brought into the areas, with the promise of actual installation still lingering.

Despite the darkness, Kanduma has grown into a lively settlement.

Bavuni Primary, the first school in the area, later gave birth to Bavuni Secondary and Mugwathi Comprehensive.

Today, the wider Kanduma area boasts over 15 schools. Yet challenges remain.

ECDE Children from Mathare, the furthest village, trek up to eight kilometres daily to reach class in Bavuni or Mugwathi, with many parents opting to let them study in Kabatini Ward, only about two kilometers away.

“We have pleaded with the county to help build a nearby ECDE center. A generous elder even offered part of his land, but the request has never been honored,” says Njuguna.

“During the rainy season, some parents keep the little ones at home because the journey is too harsh for them.”

For Samuel Kariuki Macharia, now in his late 80s, the story of darkness has been his lifetime reality.

“I have lived here for more than 40 years, and I have never seen electricity even for one day,” he explains.

“We survive with small solar panels that often burn out, while others use paraffin lamps. At our age, we only pray that we may see light before our time comes.”

His plea echoes that of many elderly residents who feel forgotten in their sunset years.

Back in the 1970s, families settling in Kanduma owned about 2.5 acres each. Over time, population growth and economic pressures saw most of that land subdivided and sold.

The elderly, who never sold their ancestral parcels, passed them down to their children, many of whom have since sold most of their inheritance. Some now remain with only tiny plots.

For decades, households here have also depended on the shamba system inside Dundori Forest, where families are allocated portions to cultivate food crops and remains a vital safety net for many who rely on farming as their main livelihood.

Interestingly, the few who held on now lease their land to commercial horticulturalists. Green maize, dhania, and other vegetables thrive here, with some produce exported.

Farmers also cash in on silage from maize stalks, which is transported as far as Kiambu, even as local dairy farming steadily declines.

Over the decades, Kanduma has shifted from a small, close-knit settlement to a cosmopolitan community.

 Intermarriages have blurred boundaries, and even newcomers easily pass as natives after picking up the local dialect.

Still, poverty levels remain high. Most households rely on small-scale farming, and it is common for parents to trade their farm produce directly to cover school fees.

For many residents, Bavuni Centre is the gateway to and from Kanduma.

It is the last stop for matatus and motorbikes ferrying passengers from town, with fares ranging from Sh. 100 to Sh. 200, depending on the weather and road conditions, from there, deeper into the clusters to reach their homes.

Those living in Mathare, the furthest end of Kanduma, often rely on Bavuni Centre for basic services.

“People walk all the way there just to get a shave, a blow-dry, or even to charge their phones,” notes Njuguna.

And as night falls over the green ridges of Kanduma, the name “mountain of darkness” lingers, a reminder of a community still waiting for the light.