Chesongoch landslides: Media must report beyond the death toll
When the earth gave way under heavy rain in Chesongoch, Elgeyo Marakwet, entire families were wiped out in seconds. Mothers were buried alongside their children. Homes that had sheltered generations disappeared under heavy mud and rolling boulders. Today, the valley carries a thick silence, and the grief is almost tangible.
Yet, while the tragedy shook the nation, the news coverage on NTV, CITIZEN TV, KTN, TV47 and KBC followed a familiar pattern: breaking news, recurring death toll updates, government officials at the scene, camera shots of blankets being distributed, and appeals for relocation. It was news but not necessarily understanding.
Across the stations, the coverage unfolded as follows:
KBC: Chesongoch Tragedy Aftermath,highlighted the rising fatalities and multi-agency search for 25 missing persons, alongside humanitarian aid delivered to displaced families at Chesongoch Primary School.
Citizen TV: Marakwet Landslides: 26 Dead,confirmed the deaths and extensive destruction, emphasising government interventions as outlined by Interior Cabinet Secretary Kipchumba Murkomen, including medical support and evacuation plans.
KTN: Chesongoch Tragedy, concentrated on the operational response, detailing the deployment of helicopters, drones, Red Cross involvement, and the establishment of an Eldoret Airstrip command centre.
TV47: Elgeiyo Marakwet Landslide Tragedy,offered a human-centered perspective, sharing survivors’ experiences and the scale of destruction: about 1,000 homes and farms affected.
NTV: Marakwet: Deaths, Devastation, Difficulties,uniquely focused on the human toll, presenting in-depth accounts from victims and highlighting the urgent plea for aid to rebuild lives.
While these reports effectively documented the immediate facts of the who, what, and where, they largely stopped short of explaining why these tragedies keep recurring and how they might be prevented, leaving a critical gap in public understanding.
Adding to this, during coverage, a line echoed across nearly every station: “Residents have been urged to relocate to safer grounds.” Repeated as if to offer closure, it failed to capture the deeper reality. Relocation is far more than packing up and leaving. For the people of Chesongoch and surrounding villages, it means abandoning ancestral graves, family farms, and a way of life, often without government support or compensation. These emotional, cultural, and economic costs cannot be captured in a simple soundbite.
Too often, media coverage ends there. The story stops when the last body is recovered and the cameras roll away. But for survivors, tragedy continues, children who searched through the mud for their siblings still wake up screaming. Once-fertile farms are buried beyond recovery. Breadwinners are gone, and futures are uncertain. Critical questions remain: Could this have been prevented? Should someone be held accountable? What comes next for those who remain?
For Kenyan media to truly serve the public interest, future reporting on disasters must go beyond event-based coverage and focus on prevention, accountability, and long-term learning.
First, the media must employ investigative journalism. Journalists should map high-risk landslide zones using county and scientific data, examine past government mitigation plans to determine whether they were funded or implemented, and track relief funds transparently to expose wastage or corruption. This shifts reporting from simply narrating tragedy to interrogating the systems that allow such tragedies to occur.
Second, the media should make experts central to disaster reporting. Geologists, hydrologists, meteorologists, and climate scientists should not appear as occasional voices. Their insight is essential in helping the public understand how rainfall patterns have changed, why certain slopes collapse, and what effective prevention strategies look like.
Third, coverage should integrate local knowledge, especially the experiences and memories of elders who have observed environmental change over decades. Their voices are not just cultural; they offer practical information for risk mapping and community-level safety communication.
Additionally, the media must sustain follow-up coverage. Journalists should return months later to show who rebuilt, who relocated, who received trauma care, and who was left behind. Follow-up is not just about closure; it is a form of public accountability that ensures survivors are not forgotten once the headlines fade.
Finally, the media should assess county preparedness in handling such disasters. Journalists should examine whether counties have emergency funds, whether risk maps are used in settlement planning, and what climate adaptation strategies exist and how effective they are. This moves coverage into a broader national conversation on resilience and future safety.
In conclusion, the Elgeyo Marakwet landslides were a human tragedy. Journalism’s role is not only to record loss, but to interpret, connect, and warn. If our media continues to cover disasters as events rather than patterns, we will tell this same story again next rainy season only with new names and new graves. The question we must begin asking is not: “What happened here?” but: “What must change so it does not happen again?” That is journalism that saves lives. That is journalism that respects grief. That is journalism worthy of the people of Elgeyo Marakwet.
This column is compiled by the Prime Time Review team based at the Media Council of Kenya
