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Kenya, 6 May 2026 - In the long, echoing corridors of Kodiaga Maximum Prison, where iron doors shut out the rhythms of ordinary life, a quiet plea is beginning to surface.
The plea is not about being freed now about proposal radical structural reforms in the prisons—one that speaks not of freedom, but of intimacy.
For many of the men and women held behind its high walls, the call is simple: time, however brief, with their spouses.
This is what they now wanted legislated and backed by the laws.
This is what they told the MPs led by Banard Kibor Kitur Chairperson of the Constitutional Implementation Oversight Committee (CIOC) of the National Assembly during the visits.
The inmates feel that sometimes they are sentenced to serve for life and this denies them their biological or conjugal rights. One of the women in prison explained in grief.
“Even if we are jailed, there are certain fundamental basic human rights, we should not be absolutely denied. We support reforms in prisons to cater for our conjugal rights.’’
Speaking during a parliamentary inspection of correctional facilities in Kisumu, inmates—through intermediaries and prison officials recounted their ordeal behind bars.
They told MPs that the ongoing reforms of Kenya’s prison system must also consider what they describe as a fundamental human need: the right to maintain marital relations.
“They want to enjoy their conjugal rights once in a while,” said a prison source who requested anonymity because they were not authorised to speak publicly.
“Some are serving long sentences. They fear losing their families, and for women, there is the anxiety of going through menopause without ever having that closeness again.”
The request, delicate yet deeply human, was relayed to a parliamentary committee led by Nandi Hills MP Benard Kitur during the oversight tour.
Also present were Patrick Osero, the MP for Borabu, and the Nambale MP Geoffrey Ekesa Mulanya, alongside senior prison officials.
The top prison officials included Deputy Prison Commandant Jane Kiri and the facility’s officer in charge Francis Odongo.
While Kenya’s prison regulations have traditionally been silent on conjugal visits, the issue is increasingly being framed within a broader shift in correctional philosophy—from punishment to rehabilitation.
That transition is at the heart of an ambitious reform programme being rolled out by the Kenya Prison Service under the State Department for Correctional Services.
According to Principal Secretary Salome Muhia-Beacco, the reforms are aligned with the government’s Bottom-Up Economic Transformation Agenda
The reforms seek to uplift those at the lowest rungs of society—including inmates—into productive, self-sustaining citizens.
“When the current administration came into office, one of its key mandates was to ensure that no one is left behind,” she has said in outlining the policy direction.
“For us, that includes those in correctional facilities.” the PS has explained.
Across the country, authorities are investing in modern infrastructure, upgrading prison workshops, and mechanizing agricultural projects at a cost of roughly about Sh2 billion.
In Kisumu, they are putting up 200 new structures at Kodiaga Maximum prison.
“The aim is not merely to improve living conditions but to equip inmates with practical skills that can ease their reintegration into society,” according to Kiri.
Legal and policy changes are also underway.
These include strengthening probation and aftercare services, reintroducing parole, and expanding the use of non-custodial sentences such as community service orders.
Together, these measures are intended to reduce overcrowding and promote alternatives to incarceration.
Yet for some inmates, the reforms still feel incomplete. “Rehabilitation is not only about skills,” said another prison source.
“It is also about emotional stability, family connections, and dignity. If those are ignored, reintegration becomes much harder.”
Members of Parliament who toured the facilities acknowledged the sensitivity of the issue raised across board in nearly all the prisons they had visited from Coast to Nyanza.
But they indicated that it forms part of a broader conversation about human rights within correctional institutions.
Mr Kitur noted that Kenya must balance security concerns with humane treatment.
“As we reform our correctional services, we must ensure they reflect international standards. The committee would consider recommendations raised during the visit.”
Mr Mulanya echoed similar sentiments, pointing out that strong family ties can play a critical role in reducing reoffending.
“If we are serious about rehabilitation, then we must look at the inmate as a whole person—not just as an offender,” he said.
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Globally, conjugal visit programmes exist in varying forms, particularly in parts of Europe and the Americas, where they are often linked to improved inmate behaviour and family cohesion.
In Africa, however, the practice remains limited and, in many jurisdictions, controversial.
Back in Kodiaga, the debate feels less abstract.
For inmates serving long sentences, relationships strain under the weight of separation. Some marriages falter; others endure in uncertainty.
The prospect of controlled, periodic visits—whether monthly or bi-monthly—offers, at the very least, a thread of continuity.
Prison officials are cautious. Security, logistics, and cultural considerations all weigh heavily on any potential policy shift.
Yet there is a growing recognition that the success of the new correctional model may depend as much on human connection as on infrastructure and training.
As Kenya recasts its prison system in the language of rehabilitation and reintegration, the question that lingers is how soon the reforms will be effected.
Mulanya said they are relooking into the penal to align it with Article 26 of the Constitution more precisely Kenya’s criminal justice system.
The lawmakers warned that sentencing practices are drifting away from both logic and the Constitution.
The MPs now say the Penal Code of Kenya must be urgently realigned with Article 26 of the Constitution of Kenya to safeguard dignity and fairness in punishment.
They decry what they term “double punishment”, where offenders serve lengthy jail terms—sometimes up to 30 years—only to be pursued for hefty fines afterwards.
“This is unjust and oppressive,” Mulanya said, warning that sentences must be clear and not punitive beyond reason.
Equally troubling, they argue, is the lingering shadow of capital punishment.
Despite reforms the courts continue to impose life imprisonment, creating confusion and undermining the spirit of change.
The MPs also link harsh penalties, particularly for sexual offences, to rising prison congestion.
While acknowledging the gravity of such crimes, they insist the law must now shift towards rehabilitation—“guiding and counselling offenders.
This will make them return to society as responsible citizens”—rather than simply swelling already strained prisons.
MPs are pushing for a comprehensive overhaul of the criminal justice system, focusing on:
Kitur, Omulanya and Osero told the press in Kisumu that their greater emphasis on rehabilitation rather than purely punitive measures.
Their proposal is to:
The goal, they argue, is to ensure offenders return to society as responsible individuals with improved moral grounding, rather than being warehoused in overcrowded prisons.
Mulanya explained that Article 26 of the Constitution of Kenya guarantees the right to life. Every person has the right to life.
A person shall not be deprived of life intentionally, except as authorized by law.
It also states that life begins at conception, with limited exceptions relating to medical or legal circumstances.
In context: the MPs say they want to align the Penal Code with Article 26 of the 2010 Constitution of Kenya.
The MPs argued punishments—especially severe ones—must respect the constitutional protection of life and human dignity.
So, now what is confronting policymakers is whether reform can stretch far enough to accommodate not only the economic and legal needs of inmates.
This includes, their most personal concerns inked on humane and biological ones as well.
Behind the walls of Kodiaga, that question is no longer theoretical. It is lived, daily, in absence—and in hope.