Dominic Maisiba and his wife Teresa Kemunto during an interview at their Maili Mbili home, on February 7, 2025.
Forget chocolates, roses, and mushy love notes—when it comes to romance, Kenyans have their own playbook.
Across the country, from the misty highlands to the sun-kissed coast, love speaks in a multitude of languages, each with its own traditions, quirks, and evolution over time.
The dictionary sets it out clearly: The word “love” refers to both a feeling and an action. It is a noun and at the same time a verb.
Like conjoined twins, love the verb goes wherever love the noun wanders into.
However, given the dictates of culture, religion and even resources, there has never been uniformity in the way love is expressed.
And so, a question emerges: How do people from the various Kenyan communities express love? Our quest for an answer brought up a mottled picture of scenarios.
Picture a typical village man staying true to his community’s roots. Then imagine a woman who still believes in the example set by her grandmother.
If these two fall in love, are you likely to meet them holding hands on the village roads? Can they hug in public? Will you find him carrying an umbrella to shield her from the rain as they walk together? Well, can you even hear him tell her “I love you”?
Some men would not be found dead doing those things, in which those westernised might see no big deal.
“Love in African traditions is rich, symbolic, and deeply woven into communal life. Unlike today’s individualistic expressions, affection was often demonstrated through acts of service, symbolic gifts, and poetic language,” says Dr Kenneth Ombongi, a senior lecturer in history and archaeology at the University of Nairobi (UoN).
Among some traditional Luhya men, for instance, a special expression of love will entail giving their partners a free hand to shop whatever they like at the market. Market days come in handy for such gestures. She will shop and he will pay.
The woman will reciprocate by preparing the man the juiciest of traditional meals, and she will be sure to acquire some traditional brew for his enjoyment.
Since Valentine’s Day, life for me in the Palace has been very good.
Among the Agikuyu, Prof Ombongi says, a man’s love was shown by working on his in-laws’ farm, which was a gesture of commitment.
“Women expressed affection by preparing special meals or weaving garments,” says the professor, who is also the associate dean for Research and Postgraduate Studies at the UoN’s Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences.
“The Luos were even more flamboyant about expressions of love. Perhaps, this is an arena they do well even in today’s world. They embraced poetic courtship.
"A man would compose love songs for a woman he admired, while beaded ornaments carried messages of affection,” he adds.
Among the Kisiis, Prof Ombongi says, love was shown through hard work and responsibility.
“For example, a man built a granary for his bride, symbolising provision and stability. Intersections of masculine prowess, ability to work on the soil and provide as well as material wellbeing (with cows as a currency) cumulatively defined expressions of love among the Gusii,” says Prof Ombongi.
He goes on: “Among the Maasai, beaded jewellery spoke volumes. Red symbolised passion, white meant peace, and blue represented fidelity. A suitor offering fermented milk to a woman was a sign of deep affection and trust.”
“Overall”, says Prof Ombongi, “these traditions remind us that African love was never just about words—it was lived experience, nurtured, and deeply communal.”
As this week has been marked by love manifestations across towns, we took a journey through Kenya’s diverse cultures, discovering how different tribes express love—past and present.
Whether it’s the Kikuyu’s acts of service, the Luo’s evolving romance, or the Coastal communities’ whispered affections, one thing is clear: love is everywhere, in its own uniquely Kenyan way.
The Kikuyu love language
For generations, Kikuyu men have spoken the language of love not through words, but through actions.
Their expressions of affection paint a picture of dedication, responsibility, and unwavering commitment—a cultural heritage that continues to influence modern relationships.
"Our parents never said 'I love you' to each other", reflects George Muiruri, a 53-year-old businessman. His words open a window into a world where love was measured not in grand gestures, but in daily acts of devotion.
"You knew a man loved you if he provided, built a home, and ensured his family was secure. Women showed love through care, preparing meals, raising children, and maintaining a stable home".
In traditional Kikuyu society, courtship was a community affair. Rather than private romantic pursuits, families and elders played matchmaker, carefully considering potential partnerships.
The late 20th century brought winds of change to Kikuyu courtship traditions.
As urbanisation and education gained momentum, Generation X began to embrace new ways of expressing affection.
Muiruri's own love story captures this transformation: "I wrote her a letter and hid it inside my school notebook.
It was short, but the effort meant everything. Our love grew slowly, and by the time I went to her home for introductions, her parents had already known about me through the community."
While public displays of affection remained taboo—love being considered too precious for public exhibition—the sacred institution of marriage adapted to changing times. Yet, the core values of provision and commitment remained steadfast.
The celebration of Valentine's Day within the Kikuyu community tells its own story of cultural transformation. "I grew up in a time when Valentine's Day was almost unheard of", Muiruri recalls. "My parents never celebrated it. The closest thing to a romantic gesture I saw was my father buying my mother new clothes or shoes".
Through the decades, Muiruri's personal story reflects the changing face of romance in Kikuyu society.
During his school days in the 1980s, young love found expression in simple gestures - shared sweets and biscuits passed between classes, carefully penned letters tucked into notebooks, and treasured photographs exchanged as tokens of affection.
As he entered university in the 1990s, romance grew more elaborate. Students would plan picnics under shady trees, dance together at disco sessions, and express their feelings through thoughtful gifts of drinks or carefully chosen pieces of jewellery.
Today, Valentine's celebrations have evolved to embrace global customs while keeping their Kikuyu heart – couples go for famed Mugithi night outs, exchange roses and chocolates, but you'll still find them sharing tender moments over traditional nyama choma, making the celebration uniquely their own.
Perhaps most telling is how the Kikuyu community has balanced tradition with contemporary values. "The Kikuyu community has long been known for its entrepreneurial spirit, and this extends to relationships", Muiruri observes. While financial stability remains important in relationships, today's couples seek partnerships based on mutual support rather than traditional provider roles alone.
This evolution reflects a broader truth: love, like culture, is not static. It adapts and grows while holding onto the wisdom of generations past. In the Kikuyu community, this means maintaining the substance of traditional love—commitment, responsibility, and care—while embracing new ways of expressing it.
Luo love: From hidden gestures to open displays
In the heart of Luoland, love's expression has undergone a remarkable transformation over generations. Where once romance dwelled in shadows, today it dances in sunlight, telling a story of cultural evolution that spans decades.
"In our tradition, courtship barely existed," explains Joshua Majiki Ondu, a Luo Council Elder. His words paint a picture of a time when young women might find themselves whisked away to marriage while fetching water from the river, their parents having arranged unions without their knowledge.
"Marriage was about children and strengthening family ties," he reflects. "A man showed affection through cattle, sheep, or goats, not words or touches."
In those days, love's language was subtle. A man might have several wives, but the one who held his heart could be identified by the time he chose to spend in her company. "The culture placed great value on discipline, respect, and chastity," Ondu notes. "Intimacy before marriage was unthinkable."
Yet, as times change, so do expressions of love. Enter Gradus Lusi Warindu, 70, and Joan Adhiambo Lusi, 69, who embody this evolution with grace. After 46 years of marriage, they've become pioneers of public affection in a society that once kept love behind closed doors.
Joan Adhiambo Lusi (right), speaks passionately during an exclusive interview with the Nation at her home in Kisian, Kisumu County, on February 6, 2025.
Their story challenges traditional norms while commanding respect. As church marriage counsellors, they practice what they preach, their love visible for all to see. "I love you" flows between them as naturally as breath, and terms of endearment like "babe" pepper their conversation without hesitation.
"Being counsellors in family life has shaped how we express our love," Mrs Lusi shares.
"How can you guide others in matters of marriage if you don't live by those same principles?"
Their neighbours and fellow church members have grown accustomed to seeing them walk hand in hand, their affection breaking cultural barriers with dignity.
The Lusis' love speaks through small gestures: surprise gifts, frequent check-in calls, and quality time together. Mr Lusi still opens car doors for his wife, and they're not afraid to dance together in public. "Buy each other gifts, even if she doesn't like it sometimes. Just appreciate the gesture," Mr Lusi advises.
Gradus Lusi Warindu during an interview with the Nation at his home in Kisian, Kisumu County, on February 6, 2025.
"Go on outings, watch movies together, listen to music, and dance along." His face lights up as he shares a recent memory: "During my birthday, my wife took me dancing at a nearby hotel. We danced the night away and had such a wonderful time.
Their story represents more than just personal happiness—it's a bridge between traditional values and modern expressions of love. While respecting their cultural heritage, they've carved out space for open affection, showing younger generations that love can be both dignified and demonstrative.
As Mrs Lusi puts it, with a warm smile, "When we go shopping, we hold hands. Even if it makes some people uncomfortable, we remain true to ourselves."
Love is an arranged hush-hush affair in Coastal communities
Along Kenya's sun-kissed coast, love whispers rather than shouts. In the traditional communities of Lamu County—the Bajuni, Aweer, Sanye, and Giriama—romance has always been a private dance, performed away from prying eyes. Here, love stories unfold differently from the modern world's public displays of affection.
"Even if your heart burns with passion, you keep it hidden," says Mohamed Mbwana Shee, 67, chairman of the Lamu Bajuni Council of Elders. In his community, the word "Nakupendha" (I love you) is reserved strictly for private moments. "That's something that ends in the bedroom," he explains with quiet dignity.
"As young men, we couldn't interact with young women or girls. That means we had no chance to approach a woman and tell them I love you. My wife Mwanaheri Mohamed was given to me by my parents, uncles and aunts. They're the ones who organised and we're happily married. This is our 38th year," said Mr Mbwana proudly.
These coastal communities share a common thread in their approach to romance. Parents traditionally played matchmaker, carefully arranging marriages for their children. Diza Doza, 74, an Aweer (Boni) elder, recalls how families would "reserve" potential spouses for their children from an early age.
"Your daughter would be around five years old when a family would approach you, entering an agreement to have her kept for their son," he explains. The Boni young men and women were also not allowed to marry from other tribes, he adds.
Mr Doza, however, says intermarriages have occurred among the Boni in today's world.
The Sanye community approached romance with similar discretion. Zainabu Gobu Wako, 50, a Sanye elder from Witu, describes how married couples showed affection through subtle gestures: "A husband and wife would express love indirectly, perhaps by visiting relatives together. The romance remained behind closed doors." Saying 'I love you' or 'An'Sijalahdhah Jelalteh kabah' ' in the Sanye native language was not uttered in public as it was considered disrespectful.
In the Giriama tradition, even saying "Nakuhenza Muchangu" (I love you, my wife) in public was considered taboo. Khamis Kaviha, 61, a Giriama elder, explains that love was demonstrated through actions rather than words or physical displays.
Today, these communities find themselves at a crossroads between tradition and modernity. "Technology has changed everything," Mbwana reflects. "Young people now learn about romance through the internet, adopting Western ways of expressing love."
Yet many elders view these changes with concern rather than criticism. They understand their communities must evolve, even as they work to preserve the dignity and privacy that have long characterized coastal expressions of love.
In West Pokot romance comes in many forms
As Valentine's Day approaches and young couples plan their celebrations with flowers and champagne, a different kind of love story unfolds in the quiet villages of West Pokot. Here, elderly couples share their own touching perspectives on romance, proving that love's sweetness deepens with time.
In Simotwo B village, Pastor James Akazile, 70, and his "lovely angel" Rael, 58, sit beneath a shade tree at their home. Their 36-year marriage tells a tale of love untouched by modern Valentine's traditions. "We grew up in grazing fields looking after cattle," Pastor Akazile says with a gentle smile. "We hear about Valentine's Day and follow along like sheep, but our love is simpler."
Rael, a mother of six, chuckles at modern terms of endearment. "I hear people call each other 'Babe,' 'Daddy,' 'sweetheart,' but our love is about being together, sharing meals." When asked about kissing, she laughs heartily. "Unanyonya mtu wapi? (Where do you kiss?) Even moving close is ewowoh (stressful)!" Yet her eyes sparkle as she contemplates their own Valentine's celebration: "We'll sit here with our children, enjoy ugali with sukuma wiki, and that's perfect."
In Kapenguria, another love story unfolds by the roadside, where Samuel Mwangi Mwaura and his wife Teresia Wamboi sell clothes together. Married since March 1977, their partnership radiates trust and respect. "My wife doesn't like lies," Samuel says proudly. "We pray to God, and He is our protector."
Though they've never celebrated Valentine's Day before, Samuel's eyes light up at the possibility. "I'm ready to kiss her with flowers of my tongue and take her far!" he declares. Teresia, a mother of 10, dreams of visiting Mombasa with her husband. "I'd love to see the lake that moves to and fro (the ocean)," she says wistfully.
The couple's mutual respect shows in small ways. "Nobody calls me anyhow," Teresia explains. "We respect each other's phones. If my phone rings, he won't pick it up." She values words over gifts: "A tongue brings good things and bad. You can receive flowers but later face troubles. I prefer hearing him tell me nice words."
A younger perspective comes from Rosaline Ashiroi, 37, who sees Valentine's Day as a chance for marriage renewal. She plans to surprise her 55-year-old husband Thomas Etau with flowers and a swimming trip. "I want to show him that somebody's daughter loves him," she says warmly.
For the Abagusii it’s all a subtle art
In the rolling hills of Gusiiland, tradition teaches that the deepest affection flows not through public displays or grand gestures, but through carefully woven threads of respect and discretion.
"Among the Abagusii, love was never a public performance," explains Araka Matundura, Chairman of the Abagusii Council of Elders. His eyes hold the wisdom of generations as he describes how marriage was built on a foundation of mutual respect rather than outward displays of emotion. Public displays of affection—the casual embraces and intimate moments now common among young couples—were once unthinkable in traditional Abagusii society.
Perhaps most telling is the elaborate system of respect embedded in how spouses addressed each other. "A man would never call his wife by her given name," Matundura reveals. "If his wife was Moraa, daughter of Mogaka, he would refer to her as 'Mogaka's daughter.' This wasn't distance—it was dignity."
Dominic Maisiba and his wife Teresa Kemunto during an interview at their Maili Mbili home, on February 7, 2025.
As Valentine's Day approaches and shop windows fill with red roses and heart-shaped chocolates, Matundura views these modern expressions of love with concern.
He has witnessed marriages crumble over unmet expectations of gifts and grand gestures—casualties, he believes, of Western influences on traditional values. "Couples now separate over uncreated bouquets," he notes with sadness, "when our ancestors built lasting unions on foundations of respect."
In Abagusii culture affection is expressed not through what is shown, but through what is preserved—the quiet dignity of respect, the sacred space of privacy, and the deep understanding that true love needs no audience.
In Kalenjin love comes with longevity and strictness
As lovers prepare to paint the town red, 101-year-old Francis Kipserem celebrates a different kind of love story.
In his home along the Nandi-Uasin Gishu border, he treasures something far more precious than flowers or chocolates: 62 years of marriage to Christine Kipserem, whose devotion he credits for his longevity.
Francis Kipserem 101 years old together with his wife Christine Kipserem 62, during a valentine interview at their home in Lessos Nandi County.
"The best gift I can give my wife isn't flowers," says the father of 21, his eyes twinkling. "It's my gratitude for raising our children and caring for me in my twilight years."
“During our days there was no valentine celebration but we used to express our love through dancing and eating together and that is what we are still doing,” said Mzee Kipserem.
But love's language can be surprising. Christine reveals, that her husband's affection once took an unexpected form: strictness and overprotectiveness. She claims that during their hey days beating a wife was part of expressing love.
“Though my husband hardly tells me he loves me; from his expression I know he loves me. During our days we were told when your husband beats you it was a way of expressing love. That's why I've stayed all these years, unlike today's couples who hop from marriage to marriage,” said Ms Kipserem.
Just a few miles away in Eldoret, a different love story unfolds. Shadrack Moimet, a 49-year-old herbal doctor, and his wife Alice represent a new generation's approach to romance. "The words 'I love you' work magic on my wife," Shadrack beams. "Every time I say it, she seems to grow younger."
Breaking with his community's reserved traditions, Shadrack proudly holds his wife's hand in public. Their open displays of affection have had an unexpected benefit: their children view marriage with optimism. "They see us as role models," he says proudly.
This Valentine's Day, while Mzee Kipserem and Christine share their customary meal at home, Shadrack plans to whisk Alice away to Nairobi for a romantic celebration. Alice's eyes light up when she speaks of her husband: "His love is genuine. When he holds my hand, it's wonderful. Marrying him was the best decision of my life."
These two couples, separated by half a century but united in lasting love, show that whether expressed through traditional dedication or modern romance, genuine affection speaks a language all its own.
By Wycliffe Nyaberi, Elizabeth Ngigi, Elizabeth Ojina, Oscar Kakai, Kalume Kazungu, Titus Ominde and Elvis Ondieki
