Former Nairobi Governor Mike Sonko has turned national attention toward gender-based violence (GBV) support systems, revealing the existence of a special hospital unit that offers free, comprehensive services to survivors.
His remarks come in the wake of disturbing allegations that his daughter, Salma Mbuvi, was assaulted at her Kitengela home—an incident that has pushed the family into the public spotlight and revived urgent conversations around domestic violence in Kenya.
Sonko said her daughter is a repeat victim of Gender violence.
The confrontation reportedly erupted after Salma placed a distress call to her mother, claiming her husband had slapped her twice during an argument.
According to Sonko, the heated exchange began when Salma asked her husband to buy breakfast for their children, who were hungry.
He allegedly responded aggressively, inflicting visible injuries on her face and lips. Sonko—who later rushed to Kitengela, accompanied by his security team—recorded the confrontation, where he demanded answers from his son-in-law.
In the video, Sonko could be heard thundering, “Why are you beating my daughter yet I’m paying for your rent, shopping, and paying for your children’s school fees?”
The clip also captured a moment where a member of Sonko’s security team slapped the husband, prompting Sonko to intervene: “Let us not do anything to him in front of the children.”
Mike Sonko is showing a real definition of being a parent. Never let anyone touch your blood, no matter what. This bully thought he could beat Sonko’s daughter and get away with it.
Yet in a twist that reflects the complex emotional terrain of intimate partner violence, Salma was seen defending her husband, asking her father and the security team why they were assaulting him.
Sonko later said his daughter has experienced similar attacks “multiple times,” prompting him to take her back to his home temporarily.
According to him, the husband will now be required to visit Salma’s maternal home—with his parents—to “collect her properly,” a traditional reconciliation gesture that underscores the gravity of the incident.
But beyond the family drama, Sonko has used the moment to shine a spotlight on a critical piece of Kenya’s GBV support structure: the Gender Violence Recovery Unit (GVRC).
While the unit itself is not new, Sonko’s decision to highlight it during such a public moment of crisis has given renewed currency to its mission and relevance.
The GVRC, housed within the Nairobi Women’s Hospital network, is one of the country’s most important but often under-discussed institutions.
It offers free medical and psychosocial services to survivors of physical and sexual violence. These include emergency medical treatment, post-rape care, HIV prophylaxis, counselling, trauma therapy, legal support, forensic documentation, and long-term rehabilitation.
The centre also plays a pivotal role in supporting survivors through the justice system. By properly documenting injuries and providing court-ready medical reports, GVRC increases the chances of successful prosecution in GBV cases—a process that is notoriously challenging in Kenya, where evidence handling often collapses cases before they begin.
Sonko revealed that many women—just like his daughter—suffer abuse silently, often unaware that institutions like GVRC exist or that services are entirely free.
His disclosure of the unit’s existence suggests that his own encounter with GBV, through his daughter’s experience, has made him more vocal about the need for accessible, survivor-centred support systems.
The timing of his revelation is significant. Kenya has been grappling with rising cases of sexual and domestic violence, worsened by economic pressures, social stress, and longstanding cultural norms that discourage victims from speaking out.
Many survivors turn to family negotiations instead of formal reporting, while others lack the financial means to seek medical care or legal representation.
In this context, the GVRC’s model—free care, forensic expertise, psychosocial support, and legal facilitation—could be transformative. But the challenge remains awareness and accessibility.
Sonko’s remarks, amplified by his political stature and the emotional gravity of his daughter’s case, may help bridge that information gap.
Critically, his reaction also exposes the contradictions within Kenya’s response to GBV. On one hand, survivors are encouraged to report abuse and seek help; on the other, community and family pressures often nudge them toward silence or reconciliation.
Salma’s instinctive defence of her husband, despite visible injuries, reflects a common psychological and cultural pattern where survivors often protect their abusers out of fear, dependence, shame, or hope for change.
Sonko’s public intervention—dramatic and confrontational—will undoubtedly spark debate about boundaries, privacy, and the role of family in GBV matters.
But by centering the conversation on the availability of free, professional help, he shifts the narrative from mere spectacle to systemic importance.