The Identity of Kenya’s “Luhya” Community

For decades, the term “Luhya” has been ingrained in Kenya’s cultural and political landscape, yet its origins and implications often remain misunderstood. As a proud member of the Maragoli community, I aim to challenge the conventional wisdom surrounding this label.

Let’s set the record straight: “Luhya” is not a standalone tribe but a construct devised for political expediency in the 1930s. In my Maragoli tongue, “Luhya” translates to “Avalusha” or “the people of up there,” denoting those from the northern regions. This designation, however, does not encapsulate the diverse identities within Western Kenya.

The emergence of “Luhya” as a collective identity was not based on linguistic or cultural ties but rather as a means of control and categorization by colonial powers. Similar amalgamations occurred with communities like the Kalenjins and the Mijikenda, perpetuated by colonial authorities and local politicians.

This historical oversight has led to a simplistic understanding of the region’s rich tapestry of cultures. Within what is labeled as the “Luhya” community, there exist 18 distinct subtribes, each with its unique heritage and traditions. These subtribes are not mere subdivisions but autonomous entities with their histories and customs.

Take, for instance, the legacy of King Nabongo Mumia, often portrayed as a collaborator and traitor. His story, rooted in the Wanga subtribe, underscores the complexities of colonial encounters. Nabongo’s decision to engage with the British was driven not solely by politics but also by the pragmatism of safeguarding his people in the face of overwhelming force.

Furthermore, historical narratives overlook acts of resistance and defiance. The Bukusu Resistance Army stands as a testament to the courage and resilience of communities against colonial oppression, challenging the simplistic portrayal of collaboration.

Even geographical landmarks bear the scars of colonial intervention. The renaming of Maragoli Hills from its original designation as Bayonga Hills exemplifies the erasure of indigenous identities in favor of colonial imposition.

We must reassess our understanding of Kenya’s cultural mosaic and discard the homogenizing lens of the “Luhya” identity. Embracing the diversity of subtribes and acknowledging their distinct contributions to Kenya’s heritage fosters a more inclusive and accurate portrayal of our collective history.

In essence, the narrative surrounding the “Luhya” community serves as a microcosm of broader issues of identity, power, and representation. By reclaiming our histories and challenging entrenched narratives, we pave the way for a more nuanced and inclusive understanding of Kenya’s cultural landscape.