Majengo’s experience shows why security operations alone cannot rebuild trust, heal trauma or prevent old grievances from producing new violence.
When young people disappear into violent extremist networks, the damage does not end with their departure. Families are left without answers. Neighbors begin to mistrust one another. Religious identity becomes a source of suspicion, and entire communities are quietly recast as security threats.
Majengo, one of Nairobi’s most misunderstood neighbourhoods, has lived through this reality. Some young people from the area were recruited into extremist groups and deployed on targeted missions. Some were killed; others disappeared, and their families have remained caught between grief and uncertainty. They are unable to mourn properly or establish what happened.
The conventional response to such violence tends to focus on surveillance, arrests and disruption of extremist networks. These measures may be necessary, but they are not sufficient. Security operations cannot repair fractured relationships, resolve grievances or help a family live with an unexplained disappearance.
That requires a different approach that is grounded in transitional justice, community healing and reconciliation.
When religion becomes the suspect
In Majengo, the recruitment of young people was initially treated largely as a Muslim problem. Allegations involving a local mosque reinforced the assumption that radicalisation belonged to one faith. Yet the Kamukunji Community Empowerment Initiatives (KCEI) engagement with residents revealed a more complicated picture: recruitment crossed religious boundaries.
While some Muslims believed that their Christian neighbors were reporting them to the authorities, others feared being treated as suspects merely because of where they worshipped. Neighbors of Christian and Muslim faiths, who had long shared the same streets and public spaces, increasingly regarded one another through the lens of fear.
This is one of violent extremism’s most corrosive legacies. It does not merely claim lives; it reorganises relationships around suspicion. Once that happens, counterterrorism can inadvertently deepen the problem if it relies on crude religious or communal categories.
In 2016, KCEI launched the Tujichanue programme in Majengo to help residents understand how radicalisation occurs, recognise warning signs and support those at risk. The programme also challenged the belief that violent extremism could be attributed to one religion.
What we learned is that prevention depends on trust. Residents are less likely to share concerns, protect vulnerable young people or cooperate with institutions when they fear that doing so will expose their families or neighbours to collective blame.
The violence after the violence
By 2019, public discussions concentrated on recruitment and security, a gap that become impossible to ignore, because it rarely focused on those left behind.
KCEI therefore introduced a trauma-healing programme for survivors and affected families. It provided spaces in which people could describe their experiences and receive counselling. Many were carrying grief, shame, anger and unanswered questions that had never found a legitimate public hearing.
Communities cannot simply be instructed to “move on”. Silence is not reconciliation, and the absence of visible conflict is not necessarily peace. Unaddressed trauma may endure within families, shape how young people understand authority and reinforce the sense that some lives and losses do not matter.
Transitional justice is often discussed in relation to national conflicts, formal peace agreements and large-scale political transitions. But its central concerns are truth, accountability, healing, inclusion and institutional reform, which are just as relevant at neighbourhood level.
In Majengo, the process must begin with what happened to those who disappeared? How were families treated by security institutions? Which grievances made young people vulnerable to recruitment? How can victims and survivors participate in decisions about programmes ostensibly designed for them?
These are not questions that policing alone can answer.
Freedom of belief is part of peacebuilding
In 2022, KCEI partnered with the Programme for Christian-Muslim Relations in Africa (PROCMURA) on a Freedom of Religion or Belief initiative. The programme promoted tolerance, mutual respect and peaceful coexistence among religious communities.
For Majengo, freedom of religion or belief determines whether a person can practise their faith without being treated as dangerous; whether neighbours can disagree without becoming enemies; and whether religious identity becomes a bridge or a boundary.
This matters because extremism feeds on when people feel targeted, humiliated or shut out of civic life, extremist narratives gain credibility. Protecting religious freedom is therefore not separate from preventing violence. It is part of building the social trust that makes recruitment more difficult.
That does not mean ignoring individual responsibility or legitimate security concerns. It means refusing to hold an entire faith accountable for the actions of particular individuals. A state that confuses collective suspicion with vigilance risks weakening the very community relationships it needs to prevent violence.
Justice must reach the street
The African Union Transitional Justice Policy offers a useful framework for addressing the legacies of conflict through truth-seeking, justice, reconciliation, reparations and institutional reform. Its value, however, will depend on whether such principles travel beyond conference rooms and policy documents.
At community level, transitional justice must give affected families a voice, strengthen psychosocial support and create credible channels through which residents can raise grievances without fear. Young people should be treated as partners in prevention, not merely as potential recruits. Religious leaders must help dismantle stereotypes rather than defend communal divisions. Security institutions, meanwhile, need relationships with communities based on lawful conduct and mutual accountability.
Community organisations are well placed to support this work because they understand local histories and can reach people who may distrust formal institutions. But community experience must be connected to stronger policy frameworks, specialist knowledge and regional learning. Local organisations cannot be expected to carry the burden of trauma, reconciliation and prevention without adequate support.
Majengo’s experience offers a broader warning for Kenya and the Horn of Africa, that violent extremism cannot be defeated only where recruitment occurs or where an attack is planned. It must also be confronted in the unresolved grief of families, the exclusion felt by young people and the suspicion dividing neighbours.
The real test of peace is mainly whether communities can trust again, and not whether they will shoot again,and whether those most affected have been allowed to shape what comes next.