For more than a decade, Mandera has stood on the fault line of East Africa’s most complex security puzzle. At the heart of it is Jubaland, the semi-autonomous Somali state that Kenya once helped build to serve as a buffer against Al-Shabaab. Today, that same project threatens to drag Nairobi into a crisis that is spilling across the border, shutting schools, displacing families, and igniting political fury.
The story begins in 2009, when Ahmed “Madobe” Islam’s Raskamboni Brigade tried and failed to dislodge Al-Shabaab from Kismayo. Three years later, in 2012, Kenyan forces stormed the port city under Operation Linda Nchi, backed by Madobe’s fighters, this time successfully ousting the militants. That victory made Madobe the dominant figure in Jubaland and cemented Kenya’s role as his most powerful patron.
Nairobi saw in Jubaland a strategic shield: a friendly administration that could keep al-Shabaab far from Kenya’s northeastern counties. A 2013 Addis Ababa reconciliation deal even promised to fold Jubaland fighters into Somalia’s national army, though in practice, Madobe retained his own armed force.
But the alliance came at a cost. Jubaland’s reliance on Kenya deepened Mogadishu’s suspicion. When Madobe’s disputed re-election triggered a rupture with Somalia’s federal government, the fallout was immediate. Arrest warrants flew both ways, and in 2024, Jubaland troops fought and defeated the Somali army at Ras Kamboni, with retreating federal soldiers briefly sheltered on Kenyan soil. Ethiopia, backing Mogadishu, now stands squarely against Nairobi’s ally, Madobe.
That geopolitical rivalry has now arrived at Kenya’s doorstep. In late August 2025, Mandera Governor Mohamed Adan Khalif dropped a political bombshell: Jubaland forces had set up camp at BP1 Primary School, displacing pupils preparing for exams.
“How do you close a public school and turn it into a military training camp? … If we don’t do it, we’ll do it ourselves,” he thundered, warning that Mandera would act if the state failed.
Residents reported soldiers patrolling the town, stray bullets flying, and businesses shutting down. For locals already scarred by al-Shabaab attacks, the sight of foreign fighters entrenched in their county felt like a second occupation.
The governor’s statement followed a revelation by DCP Leader Rigathi Gachagua, who opened Pandora’s box during an interview with Citizen TV: “As we speak, foreign troops from Jubaland have occupied Mandera. It is unacceptable that foreign forces can invade Kenya”
Senator Ali Roba was even more direct, warning of a looming breakdown:
“Jubaland forces are now inside Mandera town. Schools have been shut down, businesses paralysed … Families displaced … stray bullets, RPGs and unexploded ordnance… Unless urgent action is taken, the consequences could be serious … we will be forced to mobilise ourselves to defend our people, an outcome … that will endanger peace and cause grave international embarrassment for Kenya.”
In a lengthier statement, Roba accused Nairobi of betraying its citizens:
“Kenya’s national interest lies with its strategic relationship with the Federal Government of Somalia, not in protecting a rogue state government. Allowing Jubaland troops to operate in Mandera, putting Kenyan lives and property at mortal risk, is shameful, reckless, and a betrayal of our people … If the government fails to act immediately and decisively to remove Jubaland forces from Mandera County, we will be forced to mobilize ourselves to defend our people, an outcome that will endanger peace and cause grave international embarrassment for Kenya.”
Yet from the capital, the tone was markedly different. Interior CS Kipchumba Murkomen urged calm: “We cannot yet confirm whether people coming to Kenya from Somalia are civilians or forces … if we reach a stage where there is any challenge, we will tell the country … at the moment we don’t have any difficulty.”
That reassurance did little to ease concerns. Nelson Koech, chair of the National Assembly’s Defence and Foreign Relations Committee, pressed for clarity: “The Ministry of Defence should issue a statement on the Jubaland Forces in Mandera. Their silence raises more eyebrows. My committee cannot go to the ground to investigate as yet. If we are to visit Mandera, it will be prejudicial. It would be premature and irresponsible for me as the chair to issue a statement on this issue as at now”
Meanwhile, former Chief Justice David Maraga called the presence of foreign troops a “grave violation” of Kenya’s sovereignty, warning that President Ruto’s silence risked setting a dangerous precedent. Constitutional lawyer Willis Otieno piled on, accusing Defence CS Soipan Tuya of prioritising “PR over boots on the ground.”
For years, Kenya has trained, equipped, and fed intelligence to Jubaland fighters through the KDF and the National Intelligence Service. That cooperation helped keep al-Shabaab off balance but also tied Nairobi to Madobe’s contested rule.
Today, the calculus is messier. Supporting Jubaland means alienating Mogadishu and straining relations with Ethiopia. Pulling back risks emboldening Al-Shabaab. Critics say the playbook looks uncomfortably similar to President Ruto’s flirtation with Sudan’s RSF rebels: backing non-state actors for short-term gain while risking long-term instability.
Mandera is no ordinary county. It is the seam where Kenyan, Somali, and Ethiopian interests collide and where foreign policy choices land on the doorsteps of ordinary citizens. By allowing Jubaland troops to operate openly inside Mandera, Kenya may have crossed its own red line, trading sovereignty for security.
The fury of governors, senators, lawyers, and former judges shows how high the domestic cost could climb. If Nairobi does not act decisively, the border gamble it began in Kismayo in 2012 may return home in the form of unrest, embarrassment, and a dangerous precedent: that Kenya’s soil is open for foreign armies.
The people of Mandera, long accustomed to living in the crosshairs of regional wars, are demanding answers. For once, the question is not about Al-Shabaab but about whether Kenya can secure its own borders from the very allies it once created.
