Men aren't allowed. It’s that simple.
If you drive through the parched, dusty landscapes of Samburu County in Northern Kenya, you’ll eventually hit a thorn-bush fence. Behind it lies Umoja Village, a place that shouldn't exist according to traditional Samburu customs, yet it has thrived for over thirty years. It’s a sanctuary. It’s a middle finger to patriarchy. It’s a business.
Rebecca Lolosoli started this in 1990. She was tired. Tired of the local culture that permitted female genital mutilation (FGM), forced marriages to elders, and domestic violence. When she began speaking out, she was beaten by men in her community. While she was recovering, the idea for Umoja—which means "unity" in Swahili—was born. She realized women didn't need men to survive, especially not men who wouldn't protect them.
Life Inside the Thorns
The village started with 15 women who were survivors of sexual violence, many of whom had been raped by British soldiers stationed nearby. Instead of finding support at home, their husbands shamed them. They were "defiled." They were outcasts.
So they built their own world.
Today, Umoja is a collection of manyattas (traditional low-slung houses made of earth and cow dung). The population fluctuates, but it generally houses around 40 to 50 women and their children. Boys can live there, but only until they turn 18. Once they hit adulthood, they have to leave. It sounds harsh to some, but for the women here, it's the only way to ensure the "sanctuary" stays a sanctuary.
The silence is different here. You don’t hear the deep rumble of men’s voices or the tension that often precedes a domestic dispute. You hear singing. You hear the clinking of thousands of tiny glass beads. You hear children playing near the schoolhouse.
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It’s not some utopian paradise where everyone is happy 24/7. Life is hard. It’s hot—oppressively hot. Water is a constant struggle. But there is a sense of agency that you just don't see in the surrounding villages. In Umoja Village, women make the rules. They decide how the money is spent. They decide who joins. They are the judges, the workers, and the leaders.
How Umoja Village Actually Makes Money
You can't eat "empowerment." You need cash.
The women of Umoja are savvy. They’ve turned their survival into a sustainable economy. Their primary source of income is the beadwork. Samburu culture is famous for those intricate, vibrant necklaces and headpieces that signify status and age. In Umoja, the women have turned this into a professional craft. They sell to tourists who come specifically to see the "women-only village."
They also charge a small entrance fee for visitors.
Some critics call it a "human zoo." They argue that the women are performing their trauma for Westerners with cameras. But if you talk to them, they’ll tell you it’s better than being a second wife to a 60-year-old man when you’re 13. Honestly, the commercial aspect is what keeps them independent. Without the tourist shillings, they’d be forced back into the traditional systems they fled.
They also run a campsite for tourists nearby. It’s basic, but it works. The revenue pays for food, clothing, and most importantly, education. The children of Umoja go to school. This is the real revolution. When you educate the daughters of women who were denied an education, you break the cycle of poverty that fuels child marriage.
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The Constant Pressure from the Outside
The men in the surrounding areas aren't exactly fans.
In the early days, Rebecca Lolosoli and her peers faced constant threats. Men tried to start their own "competing" villages to divert tourist traffic. They tried to intimidate the women. There’s a lingering resentment in the air even now. If you talk to some of the Samburu men in nearby towns like Archers Post, they’ll roll their eyes. They’ll tell you the women are "difficult" or that the village is a scam.
It’s not. It’s a response to a failure of the social contract.
The legal landscape in Kenya has changed since 1990. FGM is officially illegal. The constitution guarantees gender equality. But out in the semi-arid lands of the north, the law of the land is often the law of the elders. And the elders are men. This is why Umoja Village still matters in 2026. It serves as a physical reminder that there is an alternative to the status quo.
Even the Kenyan government recognizes its importance. The village has received visits from UN officials and international human rights activists. It has become a symbol of the global movement against gender-based violence.
Why People Get Umoja Wrong
A common misconception is that the women here hate men.
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They don't. Many of them have sons they love dearly. They interact with men in the markets. They hire men for certain heavy labor tasks that require tools they don't own. The "no men" rule is specifically about residency and power. It’s about who holds the keys to the house and who makes the decisions at the end of the day.
Another myth is that it’s a religious cult. It’s actually quite the opposite. It’s a very pragmatic, secular response to physical danger. The women practice their traditional Samburu faiths or Christianity, just like their neighbors. The only difference is they do it without the fear of being hit for not having dinner ready on time.
The Future of the All-Female Model
Can this model be replicated? Sorta.
There are other villages now. Nachami and Unity are two examples of similar communities that have cropped up in the region. They aren't all as strictly "women-only" as Umoja, but they prioritize women's land rights and economic independence.
The challenge is land. In Samburu culture, land is usually held by men. The women of Umoja had to fight tooth and nail to legally secure the land they live on. Without land ownership, these sanctuaries are temporary.
If you're planning to visit, don't expect a luxury safari lodge experience. It’s raw. It’s real. You’ll sit on the dirt under a tree and listen to stories that will make your skin crawl—stories of escape, of walking for days through the bush with nothing but a child on your back. But then they’ll laugh, and they’ll show you their latest beadwork, and you’ll realize they aren't victims anymore. They’re business owners.
Actionable Insights for the Conscious Traveler
If you want to support or visit Umoja Village, you need to do it right. This isn't a typical tourist stop; it's a living community.
- Hire a local guide: Don't just show up. Get a guide from the Samburu region who understands the nuances and can help with translation. It ensures your money stays in the local economy.
- Buy the beadwork: This is their main livelihood. If you find the entrance fee high, remember that it funds the village school and healthcare. The beads are high quality and authentic.
- Ask before filming: It sounds obvious, but many people treat the village like a movie set. These women are survivors of trauma. Respect their space.
- Check the season: Northern Kenya is prone to severe droughts. If you visit during a dry spell, consider bringing useful supplies like non-perishable food or sanitary products rather than just cash.
- Support the education fund: Ask about their school. They often need basic supplies like notebooks, pens, and solar lamps so the kids can study at night.
The story of Umoja Village isn't just about Kenya. It's about what happens when people are pushed to the brink and decide to build something new from the wreckage. It’s about the power of the collective. It’s a messy, beautiful, complicated example of what happens when women decide they've had enough. And frankly, it's one of the most interesting places on the planet.