One night in rural western Kenya, a 90-year-old grandmother welcomed a familiar knock. The visitor was a neighbor, a man she knew as a “clan son.” By morning, she was a survivor of sexual violence, physically broken and emotionally shattered. Her story is not an isolated tragedy; it is a mirror reflecting how quietly and how completely we have failed our elderly.
Across many Kenyan communities, old age has become a season of abandonment rather than honor. While some families still uphold the ethic of care, the experience of many is one of isolation. Dependence becomes unavoidable, and with it comes extreme vulnerability.
Many elderly people rely on their children, who are already struggling in a demanding economy or living far from home.
In the most tragic cases, those entrusted to protect the elderly, including relatives and neighbors, become exploiters who steal land, extort money, or subject the elderly to emotional and physical abuse.
By the age of 70, many Kenyans find themselves cut off from the families they spent a lifetime building.
A Culture of Violence
Nowhere is this breakdown more horrifying than in the sexual violence recently reported in parts of rural Kenya.
In 2025 and early 2026, cases from Busia County revealed a chilling pattern where elderly women were targeted for rape and murder in their own homes.
Within months, several survivors aged between 80 and 96 reported brutal attacks. These are not just numbers; they are indictments of a society that has allowed its most vulnerable to become prey.
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In some local belief systems, once a grandmother is attacked, her home is considered cursed. As a result, villages are increasingly dotted with abandoned houses, quiet ruins that speak of lives erased and communities unable to confront violence.
Crime data over the last decade suggests a significant proportion of women killed by men were above age 70, many living alone after their children migrated to urban centers.
Isolation, land ownership disputes, and poverty combine to make these women easy targets for perpetrators motivated by greed and impunity.
Betrayal of Trust and the Failure of Justice
The cruelty of sexual violence is deepened by the identity of the perpetrators. Survivors describe attackers who were neighbors or relatives, welcomed into their homes.
One case that caught media attention is that of Priscilla, a 90-year-old great-grandmother, who was assaulted by a man she had trusted for years. When he was arrested, hope flickered briefly until his relatives sold a cow, paid for his release, and he returned to the village.
“I expected more from the system,” Priscilla was quoted by the media. “But since I don’t have money, I have to live knowing he is free.”
This is not justice; it is bargaining masquerading as law enforcement. Too often, sexual violence against elderly women is resolved through informal settlements, livestock exchanged, and silence imposed.
Family members often pressure victims to “leave those things alone” to avoid embarrassment. The result is a second betrayal that protects perpetrators and teaches communities that a grandmother’s dignity is negotiable.
What the Law Says vs. Reality
Article 57 of the Constitution obligates the State to ensure that older persons live with dignity, are free from abuse, and receive reasonable care and assistance from both their families and the State.
The Sexual Offences Act and the Penal Code provide for severe punishment, including life imprisonment, in cases of aggravated sexual assault and murder.
While some courts are securing convictions, the process often fails in practice. The legal system cannot easily undo the trauma of a 96-year-old woman betrayed by her own kin.
Furthermore, when sexual violence suspects are quietly released before trials begin, it undermines faith in justice entirely, signaling that the lives of the elderly carry less weight in the eyes of the law.
Ageism Beyond the Village
Neglect of the elderly is not confined to rural spaces. In urban centers, mandatory retirement at 60 marks an abrupt end to formal participation for many.
Those who remain engaged often face persistent discrimination, such as ageist jokes, assumptions of incompetence, and exclusion from decision-making.
Also Read: Gender-Based Violence Is Not a Women’s Issue; But Are Men the Problem?
Because few people above 60 remain in formal workplaces, their concerns, for instance, health insurance gaps or age-sensitive policies, rarely feature in institutional debates.
The same logic that renders elderly women disposable in villages quietly sidelines older professionals in boardrooms. The message remains the same: that you are past your usefulness.
Restoring Dignity Before It Is Too Late
As a country, we must confront what this moment says about our character. The fact that elderly people fear their own families is a moral failure, not a cultural inevitability. If we are serious about change, four steps are unavoidable:
First, there must be an end to “livestock justice” in cases of sexual violence and murder. Police officers who facilitate these illegal settlements must be held accountable.
Second, the media must do more. The suffering of the elderly rarely makes headlines. Sustained reporting is essential to break the silence and force the enforcement of existing laws.
Third, social safety nets must be strengthened. Food support, medical stipends, and secure housing reduce the dependency that abusers exploit.
Finally, civil society must work with local leaders to dismantle the shame surrounding sexual violence attacks and affirm that protecting the elderly is a collective duty.
If we are fortunate, we will all grow old. The question is what kind of old age we are building. The silent twilight our elders endure today is a warning. If we continue to treat parents and grandmothers as expendable, we should not be surprised when the same fate meets us.
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