How an Israeli investor's 'dream' in Kenya's Solai is stirring old wounds
Nearly nine years after a deadly dam collapse in Kenya's Rift Valley, an Israeli-led agricultural and real estate project on the same land has reignited questions about foreign ownership, accountability and who development truly serves.
Solai is a name that still evokes grief in Kenya. In May 2018, nearly fifty people – many of them schoolchildren, women and the elderly – lost their lives when a privately-owned dam burst after heavy rains.
The flooding tore through communities about 190 kilometres from Nairobi, displacing hundreds of families.
A Senate investigation concluded that the tragedy was not an act of God. The structure was an unlicensed earth dam sitting 1,694 metres above sea level, built from porous materials. Its 30-metre mud wall held roughly 300,000 cubic metres of water with no proper spillway. A disaster waiting to happen, the report said.
The probe also revealed that the victims had been pressured into signing documents that absolved the owner of liability in exchange for what was presented as "consolation money".
The warnings had been sounded long before. On November 12, 1980, former MP Koigi wa Wamwere had told the National Assembly that rivers were being blocked, damaging Solai's fragile ecology. A parliamentary committee proposed legal measures to restore the area and protect residents' livelihoods.
Unresolved issue
Nearly nine years on, Solai is once again drawing national attention, this time over a 500-acre agricultural and real estate development led by Israeli investor Erez Rivkin.
The Great Rift Valley Retreat combines commercial farming with residential plots, solar-powered infrastructure and plans for a mall, medical facilities, a school, infinity pools and hospitality services. Plot prices start at 1.9 million Kenyan shillings (US $14,775), with the project marketed to both local and diaspora investors through herb cultivation, rental income and holiday accommodation.
Rivkin recently described Solai as "a dreamland" where Israelis would like to integrate with Kenyans, particularly young people.
''It's not just a view of Lake Solai and some quiet," he said. "So, we will create a community of Israelis and Kenyans."
His talk of integration, community and the prospect of Israeli teenagers growing alongside Kenyan adolescents provoked an immediate backlash.
Lynn Ngugi, a Kenyan influencer, captures the popular mood. ''What I find absurd is people trying to acquire large tracts of land here and then saying it's because Israeli teenagers can then 'integrate' with Kenyan teenagers. Integrate how exactly?" she wonders.
"You benefit from our soil and cheap labour. And history has shown us that once interests are secured, you won't hesitate to distance yourselves from ordinary Kenyans. That's the concern people are raising."
Ngugi also challenges the premise of Rivkin's investment. ''The truth is, you can invest in your own country. Let's be honest about why you are here. Many of these deals only happen because you are in cahoots with people in authority willing to sell access to our land and resources at throwaway prices," she says in a social media post.
The scepticism resonates beyond social media. There is also a precedent of public suspicion about Israeli projects in Kenya couched in symbolism.
In December 2024, Daystar University rescinded a memorandum of understanding with the Israeli embassy that would have seen more than 5,000 indigenous trees planted across its Athi River campus under a project branded the "Zion Forest".
The agreement, signed by Israeli ambassador Michael Lotem and Daystar University's vice chancellor Laban Ayiro, was cancelled within 48 hours following a public outcry.
Historical echoes
In 1903, the British government proposed the so-called "Uganda Scheme" as a potential temporary homeland for Jews fleeing persecution in Europe. Although it was rejected by the Zionist Congress and never implemented in East Africa, its memory lingers in Kenyan discussions about land and foreign settlement.
There is no publicly available evidence yet linking the Solai project to any formal Israeli state-backed resettlement programme. Rivkin presents it as a private agricultural and real estate venture.
The timing, however, hasn't helped. Israel faces mounting international criticism over proposals by far-right ministers to annex parts of the occupied West Bank – measures that governments across Europe, the Arab world and Palestinian leaders view as undermining the two-state solution long endorsed by the United Nations.
Outrage over Israel's genocidal onslaught on Gaza now shapes how some Kenyans interpret Israeli-linked projects in their country.
Legal safeguards
Under Kenya's 2010 Constitution and the Land Act, foreigners cannot own freehold land. They may hold land only on leasehold tenure for a maximum of 99 years, subject to Kenyan sovereignty and regulatory oversight.
The law was designed to prevent permanent handover of land to outsiders and ensure that ownership ultimately reverts to the Kenyan people.
For Solai's survivors, none of this is abstract. The memory of negligence and perceived impunity remains raw. Any large-scale land transformation on this ground forces the same questions about accountability and whose interests are being served.
In a place where land, history and memories of grief are bound together, development that arrives without trust will always be treated as something other than business.