NAIROBI, Kenya — Every 27 December, the family of Ambrose Kimiti gathers at their rural home in Leshau Pondo, Ndaragwa constituency, to mark the anniversary of their late father’s death.
It is a simple ceremony-prayers, quiet reflection, shared memories- a moment to honour a life once lived.
But for the second year in a row, the gathering will be overshadowed by a different kind of grief.
Ambrose will not be there.
“He was last home in December 2023,” his sister Bernice Gathigia told Y News. “He attended the memorial, and a few days later, he left for Somalia.”
That was the last time the family saw him.
–A brother who ran towards danger to save lives-
Ambrose, 45, is the fifth-born in a family of six, a trained nurse who graduated from KMTC Nyeri. But unlike many of his peers, he never practised in Kenya.
“Once you finish college, you start looking for work,” Bernice says. “For Ambrose, that work took him to the most dangerous places in the world.”
He joined Iqarus, a global medical company that provides emergency healthcare and medical evacuations in conflict zones, often subcontracted by the United Nations.
Over the years, Ambrose moved from one volatile posting to another.
“He hopped from one hotspot to another,” Gathigia recalls. “Afghanistan. Mali. Places most people only see on the news.”
In September 2023, after completing a high-risk assignment in Mali, Ambrose was deployed to Somalia, where Iqarus had been contracted to support medical evacuations under UNMISOM.
The deployments were short — typically six weeks.
“He came home for Christmas in December 2023,” Bernice says. “He was with us. He was happy.”
On 27 December 2023, Ambrose attended his father’s memorial in Leshau Pondo. Days later, he returned to duty.
Two weeks later, everything changed.
-We lost contact with Ambrose-
On January 10, 2024, as Bernice and other relatives travelled for a burial, her phone rang. The call came through WhatsApp, from a foreign number.
“It was his employer,” she says. “They told us they had lost contact with Ambrose in the field.”
Ambrose was part of a medical evacuation team that included another Kenyan nurse and a Ukrainian pilot, among others.
According to information shared with the family, their aircraft had stopped to refuel when things went wrong.
“They reported that they had landed in the middle of nowhere,” Bernice says. “Very far from Mogadishu.”
Help did not come immediately.
“For two days, his phone was still on,” she recalls. “But he never answered.”
The updates from the employer were vague — and they remain so to this day.
“They kept telling us, ‘We do not have any verifiable information.’”
Then, communication went silent.
This is truly heartbreaking. Dr. Ambrose Kimani Kimiti is a Kenyan doctor currently being held by Al Shabab in Somalia. Dr. Kimiti and his medic colleagues were on a UN mission when their helicopter crashed on January 10th 2024. It looks like the UN has all but abandoned them. I
-Proof of life-
Two years later, this December 2025, several undated videos surfaced — including one showing Ambrose alive, but held captive by the Al-Shabaab terror group in Somalia.
“It was overwhelming,” Bernice says. “Painful. But it also gave us hope.”
In the video, Ambrose directly appeals to the United Nations and to President William Ruto, urging them to intervene and secure the release of the captives.
“I have worked with the United Nations before in Mali and now in Somalia as part of its medical response team,” Ambrose says in the undated footage.
“I speak to you today as a captive held by Al-Shabaab together with my medical evacuation members for more than one and a half years.”
He added that the UN, “has failed us completely and has done nothing to secure our release or ease our suffering. The United Nations has a duty to secure the release of its contractors taken captive in the course of their work.’
He says the helicopter they were flying in crashed on January 10, 2024, landing in territory controlled by the terror group.
A Ukrainian pilot, abducted during the incident, made a similar appeal around this same period — reinforcing the family’s belief that Ambrose and his colleagues are still alive.
Yet despite the proof of life, little appears to have changed.
“For 24 months, the employer has told us the same thing,” Bernice says. “‘We still have people on the ground. We are doing our best.’ But they will not commit to whether they are alive or dead.”
She believes ransom demands may be delaying action.
“They are not moving fast,” she says. “They (Al-Shabaab) want ransom. Now that there is proof of life, can the strategy change?”
A mother who waits
Back in Leshau Pondo, Ambrose’s 78-year-old mother waits.
“It is a nightmare for her,” Bernice says.
The uncertainty has taken a toll on the elderly woman’s health.
“She keeps asking if she will live long enough to see her son come back home.”
Each time she falls ill, the family reassures her with the same promise.
“We tell her, ‘You agreed you will wait for Ambrose to return.’”
Still waiting
The Ministry of Foreign Affairs is aware of Ambrose’s case, and appeals have been made through diplomatic channels and local leaders, including the area legislator.
But for the Kimiti family, progress is not measured in statements. It is measured in days passed. In empty chairs. In unanswered questions.
Every 27 December, they return to the same homestead. They pray. They remember their father.
And they leave an unspoken space for Ambrose — the son, the brother, the nurse who went to save lives far from home, and who is still waiting to come back.
“This video has given us hope,” Bernice says. “We are still waiting.”
