BRITISH MILITARY IN KENYA
By Brenda Kathambi
In Kenya’s sprawling Laikipia County, where acacia trees stand against wide-open skies, there’s an unexpected fixture: the British Army Training Unit Kenya, or BATUK. To the British troops, it’s a tough, rugged place to train, but to locals, it’s much more layered—bringing both opportunities and unease. For some, BATUK is a strange but accepted presence, while for others, it raises difficult questions about land, history, and Kenya’s path forward.
The British presence here isn’t new. It goes back to colonial days, though these days, the agreement is different. BATUK’s mission is primarily about training British troops, but it also creates jobs for locals and opens opportunities for joint training with Kenyan forces. For many Kenyan soldiers, these joint exercises are invaluable, providing training they’d otherwise miss. Yet for others, there’s a sense of unease, a feeling that hosting foreign soldiers on Kenyan soil revives old power dynamics.
BATUK’s presence has different meanings for people here, depending on who you ask. For Samuel, a local vendor, BATUK has been a welcome part of his life. “It’s good business there’s always demand,” he says, motioning to the vegetables he sells just outside the gates. To him, BATUK means a steady income that helps support his family. But further away, at the Lolldaiga Hills Conservancy, where conservationist Mary works, there’s a different view. She still remembers the 2021 fire allegedly caused by a training exercise, which scorched parts of the conservancy. “It was devastating,” she says. “Our land and wildlife were left damaged, and we just wondered: Is this the price we’re paying?”
Every few months, BATUK holds intensive training exercises in Laikipia’s semi-arid terrain. For the British military, it’s ideal for simulating combat in dry, challenging environments. For some Kenyans, this training provides valuable experience, helping prepare soldiers for real-world missions, particularly in areas impacted by terrorism from groups like Al-Shabaab. But these exercises can also disturb everyday life. John, a retired farmer, describes how his cattle are sometimes startled by the sudden sound of gunfire. “We’ve learned to live with it, but it’s not easy,” he shares.
The Trade offs and Questions of Sovereignty, BATUK’s presence brings more than just job opportunities; it also prompts questions about Kenya’s sovereignty and responsibility to protect its land. Despite the benefits, there’s an underlying tension: should foreign forces have such an extensive footprint here? And how should the Kenyan government hold them accountable for any incidents?
As Kenya and the UK continue to work on new agreements, both sides hope to find a better balance. The goal is clear: keep the benefits of the partnership—like economic opportunities and security training—while ensuring environmental protection and accountability. For many, the hope is that BATUK’s future here will be one of true partnership and respect.
As the sun sets over Laikipia, locals watch the landscape settle back into its quiet rhythms. BATUK remains, a blend of foreign presence and local resilience. To some, it’s an opportunity, and to others, a reminder of a complex past. But as Kenya strides forward, these conversations signal something essential a recognition that the land, and the people who call it home, deserve both protection and respect. And that’s something worth working toward, together.
