Nestled in the highlands of Kenya’s Rift Valley, Kericho is a name synonymous with tea. The region’s lush green hills, kissed by mist and blessed with fertile volcanic soil, produce some of the world’s finest tea leaves. But beyond the picturesque plantations lies a complex history—one of colonial exploitation, labor struggles, and a resilient community fighting for its place in modern Kenya.
Kericho’s transformation into a tea powerhouse began under British colonial rule in the early 20th century. The British, recognizing the ideal climate for tea cultivation, seized vast tracts of land from the indigenous Kipsigis people. By the 1920s, multinational corporations like Brooke Bond (now Unilever) and James Finlay established sprawling estates, turning Kericho into the epicenter of Kenya’s tea industry.
The colonial system relied heavily on forced labor. Thousands of Kipsigis were displaced, their ancestral lands converted into tea fields. Workers—often paid meager wages—toiled under harsh conditions, a legacy that still echoes in today’s labor disputes.
Land ownership remains one of the most contentious issues in Kericho. Decades after independence, many Kipsigis families still await justice for the land grabs of the colonial era. In recent years, activists have pushed for reparations, filing lawsuits against the British government and multinational tea companies.
The case gained international attention in 2019 when a UK law firm representing the Kipsigis community accused the British Army of committing atrocities during the colonial period, including forced evictions and violence. While no substantial reparations have been paid, the movement has sparked a broader conversation about colonial accountability worldwide.
Kericho’s tea estates may no longer operate under colonial rule, but labor exploitation persists. Workers, many of whom are women, face low wages, poor housing, and exposure to harmful pesticides. In 2020, a BBC investigation revealed that some tea pickers in Kericho earned as little as $1.50 a day—far below a living wage.
Trade unions have fought for better conditions, but progress is slow. Climate change adds another layer of vulnerability, with unpredictable rainfall affecting crop yields and livelihoods.
Tea is a delicate crop, highly sensitive to temperature and rainfall shifts. Kericho’s once-reliable weather patterns are becoming erratic, with prolonged droughts and unseasonal rains disrupting harvests. Scientists warn that if global temperatures continue to rise, Kenya’s tea-growing regions—including Kericho—could see a significant decline in production by 2050.
Smallholder farmers, who supply about 60% of Kenya’s tea, are particularly at risk. Without access to irrigation or climate-resistant crops, many face financial ruin.
Some tea companies have begun adopting sustainable practices, such as rainwater harvesting and organic farming. However, critics argue that these efforts are often superficial, designed more for PR than real impact. True sustainability, activists say, requires fair wages, land restitution, and investment in renewable energy to reduce the industry’s carbon footprint.
As Kenya urbanizes, Kericho’s younger generation faces a dilemma: stay and work in the tea fields or seek opportunities in cities like Nairobi. Many choose the latter, leading to labor shortages in the plantations. At the same time, a growing number of young Kenyans are reclaiming their Kipsigis heritage, advocating for land rights and cultural preservation.
With its stunning landscapes and rich history, Kericho has untapped potential for eco-tourism. Some entrepreneurs are promoting tea tourism, offering guided tours of plantations and homestays with local families. If managed ethically, this could provide an alternative revenue stream while preserving the region’s cultural and environmental heritage.
The story of Kericho is far from over. It is a story of resilience—of a people who have endured colonialism, fought for justice, and now navigate the challenges of a rapidly changing world. As global conversations about climate justice, labor rights, and colonial reparations grow louder, Kericho stands as a microcosm of these struggles—and a beacon of hope for a more equitable future.