LocationsBy Martin Namasaka
From Fear to Trust: Sicily Gatiti’s Bold Push for Police Reforms in Kenya
June 3, 2025
If you drive past the windswept Ngong Hills where the air feels lighter and the view reminds you to breathe you wouldn’t guess that just beyond, in the quiet corridors of a police academy, a woman is helping rewrite one of Kenya’s most entrenched stories.
Her name is Sicily Gatiti MA, CPP, PCI, PSP. And while her title Dean of Studies at the Kenya National Police Leadership Academy (NPLA) sounds formal, the work she’s doing is a calling: rewriting the rules so that every officer embraces the badge not as a symbol of power, but as a solemn vow to protect, serve, and lead with heart.
When I sit with Sicily, it’s immediately clear: she doesn’t just wear the badge. She bears the weight of an entire institution crying out for change and the stubborn hope that it’s possible. That trust can be rebuilt. That a uniform doesn’t have to spark fear.
“I joined the service back in 2003,” she says, smiling gently. “And I’ve stayed because I’ve seen what happens when policing fails ordinary people. And I’ve seen what’s possible when it doesn’t.”
She tells me about a woman scared, broke, desperate who came to a complaints desk where Sicily was working. Her son had been arrested. She had no one to turn to. Sicily listened. Helped. When the young man was released, the woman grabbed her hands and whispered: “You’re the first officer who treated me like a human being.”
She pauses. “That moment changed me. It reminded me that our job isn’t to intimidate. It’s to restore dignity.”
Sicily, when you wake up every morning knowing the challenges Kenya’s police force faces what keeps you fighting for reform? What’s the fire in you that doesn’t let you walk away?
You know, police reform isn’t just a job for me it’s personal. It’s been my life’s work since I joined the service. Honestly, some days it feels like an uphill battle, but I’ve stuck with it because I’ve seen what happens when the system lets down ordinary people.
Policing should protect dignity not crush it. That’s why I care so much about reform. I’ve done everything from public relations to manning the customer care desk and working in the complaints directorate I’ve seen all sides of this service. Believe me, when officers don’t get the weight of that uniform the responsibility it carries it can cause real harm.
I’m passionate about professionalism, quality service, human rights not because they sound nice in speeches, but because real people’s lives depend on it. People don’t walk into police stations for fun they come when their world’s falling apart. We simply can’t afford to fail them.
Reform matters because it’s about restoring trust. Giving officers the right tools, the right mindset to serve, not to control. When dignity becomes the rule, not the exception, we build a police service that truly belongs to the people.
That’s what keeps me going. Kenya deserves that kind of service. I’m not stopping until it’s reality.
We’ve all seen viral videos of police roughing up protesters and demanding bribes, which fuels deep fear and anger so what does “people-centered policing” really look like on the ground, and how can we transform this troubled relationship into one where communities truly feel protected?
Well, people-centered policing is about tearing down those fortress walls the harsh tones, the suspicious glares and swapping them out for something way more human. Think of a calm voice instead of shouting, a patient ear instead of dismissal, and a genuine “I see you” instead of “What do you want?” We teach officers to sit down and actually listen to everyone from matatu drivers trying to make a living, to market vendors hustling for their families. The goal isn’t to lecture or bark orders, but to ask, “Hey, what makes you feel safe?”
It’s in these small, quiet moments that the walls come down, and suddenly those uniforms don’t feel like badges of fear anymore they become symbols of trust.
For many people, especially survivors of gender-based violence, walking into a police station isn’t just about reporting a crime it can reopen wounds nobody else sees. If they’re met with indifference or judgment, it’s not just a lost case it’s a shattered trust. When that trust breaks, everything falls apart. People stop reporting crimes. They turn to mob justice. I’ve seen that heartbreak firsthand.
That’s why this isn’t just about looking good for cameras or ticking boxes on a report. It’s about rebuilding something sacred showing up with real empathy. Because if we don’t, we’re just feeding the very fear we say we want to end.
Programmes like Station Youth Liaison Officers (SYLOs), are a big deal. They bring young officers and young people together to build safety plans together shifting the story from “us versus them” to “we.”
I won’t lie, some of my colleagues still roll their eyes at these ideas. They say, “It won’t work.” But every time an officer chooses respect over roughness, I feel a flicker of hope. That’s what real policing looks like. Human, humble, and healing.
We know police reform takes more than just good intentions it needs partners who truly understand the system. You've worked closely with UNDP. What do they bring to this fight that others don't?
When you hear “police reform,” you might imagine speeches or experts swooping in with quick fixes. But real change? It’s a slow, messy, human journey full of hard conversations and uncomfortable truths. That’s why working with UNDP feels different. Their approach is rooted in rebuilding policing from the ground up prioritizing community needs, safety, and human rights, especially in fragile and crisis-affected areas. They focus on strengthening institutions like NPLA, not just with training, but also engaging in development of new modules that can be rolled out to other training institutions, bringing experts and new partners to the table, and they have a solid understanding of what is strategically important for the reforms to succeed.
More importantly, UNDP treats the police not as a broken machine to be fixed, but as a living system made up of people, pain, history, and hope. They bring everyone to the table: from young SYLO officers and civil society groups to oversight bodies like the Independent Policing Oversight Authority (IPOA) and the Police Reforms Working Group. This willingness to listen across divide is exactly why NPLA sees UNDP as a trusted partner.
I’ve seen it firsthand. In Nakuru, boda boda riders who once feared the police now co-create safety plans with them. Women officers gain confidence and leadership through training anchored in United Nations Security Council Resolution (UNSCR) 1325. And when youth protests swept the country, UNDP didn’t just release a statement they convened Kikao Salama, where young people and police sat down together over chai for raw, honest conversations. Because that’s where true reform begins not in a policy document, but in the hard work of turning fear into trust, and strangers into allies.
How do Kenya’s police reform efforts contribute to achieving the Sustainable Development Goals, especially those related to peace, justice, and strong institutions (SDG 16)?
When people hear about the Sustainable Development Goals especially SDG 16 on peace, justice, and strong institutions it can sound a bit lofty. But at its core, justice is deeply personal. It’s in the way a mother is treated when she reports domestic violence. Or how safe a young person feels walking home at night. That’s where police reform in Kenya really matters.
Let’s be honest: the police service hasn’t always lived up to the ideals it should. There’s a long history of mistrust and abuse that can’t be ignored. But reform is about facing those truths and doing the hard work of repair restoring dignity, rebuilding trust, and making sure people feel seen and heard, not just policed.
Institutions like IPOA have made a real difference by holding officers accountable and showing that no one is above the law. Programmes like POLICARE give survivors of gender-based violence safe, compassionate spaces to seek justice. And internal mechanisms like the Internal Affairs Unit are raising the bar for integrity and accountabilitywithin the service.
These might sound like system-level changes, but for people who’ve experienced injustice, they’re deeply personal. They’re the difference between silence and safety.
Reform is also about human connection. Initiatives like, Community Policing, Nyumba Kumi and youth liaison programmes are shifting relationships between police and communities from suspicion to collaboration. And inside the service, more attention to officers’ mental health is helping foster empathy, not intimidation.
Kenya’s path hasn’t been perfect. Change is slow, sometimes messy, and often met with resistance. But it’s moving in the right direction. That commitment despite setbacks is what makes this journey meaningful. It’s a reminder that building a police service grounded in trust is not just essential for SDG 16, it’s a cornerstone of a peaceful and just society.
What makes Kenya’s journey in police reform stand out and could it inspire the rest of Africa?
Kenya doesn’t claim to have all the answers but what makes its story powerful is the choice to face uncomfortable truths and begin change from the inside out.
You see it in initiatives like Kikao Salama, where police and youth sit together not as opponents, but as partners sharing their stories over tea. Through the SYLO programme, young people who were once viewed with suspicion are now helping shape what safety should look like. And officers are beginning to see their role less as enforcers, more as guardians of public trust.
This shift is happening slowly at barazas, football matches, and even during tree-planting drives. It’s not perfect, but it’s real. Kenya is showing that reform isn’t about top-down orders it’s built through honest dialogue, consistent effort, and the courage to try again when trust breaks down.
For other countries across Africa, Kenya may not offer a perfect blueprint but it does offer a starting point. A reminder that even in systems shaped by decades of mistrust, change is possible when people commit to seeing each other as human first.
And as Kenyan officers bring this people-first mindset into regional peacekeeping missions from South Sudan to Haiti they’re helping plant seeds of a new kind of policing: one rooted in humility, community service, and hope.
As we wrap up, Sicily reflects on what drives her: “Policing doesn’t have to be feared. It can be felt in the safety of a mother walking home at night, in children playing outside a station, in an officer who chooses to listen before commanding.”
Her fight isn’t about fixing a few bad apples. It’s about shifting an entire culture. It’s about a future where officers lead with empathy, not intimidation where communities don’t brace for harm at the sight of a badge but feel protected by it.
“Fear isn’t the problem,” she says. “Disconnection is.”
And through her work, Sicily is proving that connection real, human connection is where true reform begins.
