By Cege Wa Mahiga
In the heartlands of East Africa—regions often hailed for their rich cultural heritage, spiritual devotion, and resilient communities—a dark cloud now looms over the sacred vocation of priesthood. In recent months, the brutal violence against Catholic priests in Kenya and Tanzania has not only shaken the conscience of these nations but pierced the very soul of humanity. What we are witnessing is not simply the murder and maiming of religious men—it is the desecration of sanctity, the betrayal of social trust, and a direct assault on the moral fiber of our society.
This article is not just a condemnation. It is a solemn call to awaken the collective conscience of our people, our governments, and the international community. We must not allow the blood of the innocent to be buried under silence.
A Recent Trail of Blood
On May 2, 2025, Father Charles Kitima—a respected Catholic priest in Tanzania and known advocate for justice—was violently attacked in Dar es Salaam. Struck on the head and left critically injured, his attackers vanished into the shadows of a city that should have protected him. His only “crime”? Speaking truth to power and defending the rights of the voiceless.
Around the same time in Kenya, the Church was plunged into mourning after the cold-blooded assassination of Father Alloyce Cheruiyot Bett in Elgeyo Marakwet County. Gunned down after celebrating Holy Mass, his death left a trail of sorrow and fear among the faithful. Just a week earlier, Father John Ndegwa Maina was discovered battered and unconscious on a roadside in Nyeri County. He succumbed to his injuries days later.
These were not random acts of violence. They were targeted, brutal, and chillingly symbolic.
The Role of the Priest: More Than a Clergyman
In African societies, particularly in rural and marginalized communities, a Catholic priest is far more than a spiritual guide. He is a counselor, a teacher, a mediator in conflict, and often the only consistent voice of reason in areas forgotten by the state. He baptizes children, buries the dead, comforts widows, educates orphans, and stands as a symbol of moral authority.
To attack a priest, therefore, is not only to strike an individual—it is to tear at the heart of an entire community.
A History of Sacrifice
Catholic priests have long been among the first to stand with the oppressed in East Africa. During colonial times, many were imprisoned or exiled for speaking out against injustices. During post-independence struggles, they provided sanctuary to victims of political violence and ethnic cleansing.
Let us not forget Father Anthony Kaiser, an American priest assassinated in Kenya in 2000 under mysterious circumstances after fiercely opposing forced evictions and political violence in the Rift Valley. His murder remains unresolved.
In Uganda, the Catholic Church still carries the scars of martyrdom from the 19th century, when 22 Catholic converts were burned alive for refusing to renounce their faith under King Mwanga II. They are now venerated as saints—but their blood reminds us that faith has always been a target for tyranny.
This legacy of sacrifice continues today. Only now, the enemies are more insidious—masked gunmen, political intimidation, and a growing culture of impunity.
A Region in Moral Decline?
When those who stand for peace and moral uprightness are slain, what does that say about the trajectory of our society? Have we allowed the rot of lawlessness, corruption, and political intimidation to sink so deep that even men of the cloth are no longer safe?
Are we now a society where priests must fear the altar?
The silence from some political quarters is deafening. There has been no national day of mourning, no comprehensive investigation results shared publicly, and no credible protection offered to others under threat. In fact, some members of the clergy now speak in whispers, afraid to draw the ire of unknown enemies.
This climate of fear must end.
Government Responsibility: Where Is the Outrage?
Governments in both Kenya and Tanzania have a sacred duty to protect their citizens, especially those who have dedicated their lives to service. When priests are murdered and assaulted, authorities must not hide behind bureaucratic investigations or issue vague promises of “getting to the bottom of it.”
Justice delayed in such cases is justice denied—not only to the victims but to the values that form the foundation of our nations.
Religious freedom is enshrined in the constitutions of both countries. But without action, these promises remain ink on paper. The world is watching. The Church is watching. And God is watching.
The Silence of the Pulpit Must Be Broken
It is time for the African Church to rise with one voice. The bishops, cardinals, and clergy must speak with boldness against this pattern of intimidation and violence. A priest should not be left to die alone, with only candlelight vigils and funeral masses as justice.
The Church must demand accountability—not politely, but prophetically.
Let there be pastoral letters read aloud in every church in East Africa condemning these acts. Let there be interfaith protests, public memorials, and legal advocacy to ensure that these deaths are not in vain.
International Solidarity and the Vatican’s Role
The Vatican, through the Apostolic Nunciatures in East Africa, must also issue clear condemnations and demand independent investigations. International human rights organizations and religious liberty watchdogs must raise alarm.
Just as we rallied behind persecuted priests in Nicaragua, the Philippines, and parts of the Middle East, so too must we now rally for the martyrs of Kenya and Tanzania.
A Call to the Faithful
To the lay faithful: do not let fear silence you. If your priest is under threat, your faith is under threat. Speak, organize, write, and defend those who have baptized your children, buried your loved ones, and ministered in your darkest hours.
Light candles. March in peace. Demand accountability.
Conclusion: We Must Not Be Silent
The assassinations and attacks on Catholic priests in East Africa are a stain on the conscience of our region. We must mourn, yes. But more importantly, we must rise.
We must defend the sanctity of life, the freedom of religion, and the men and women who embody the compassion and justice our societies so desperately need. If we fail to act now, we signal to the next killer that the Church is an easy target—and the next priest may fall without a fight.
But let it be known: the cross shall not be silenced.
We condemn these acts with the full weight of righteous anger. We demand justice not tomorrow, but today. And we declare that bullets or batons will never break the voice of the Church.
The blood of our priests cries out. Who will answer?