The Ruto sculpture artist beaten by goons has sent shockwaves through Kenya’s creative circles, as self-taught sculptor Philemon Sang lies battered at home after a brutal attack while trying to gift his latest work to President William Ruto through local officials.
The incident, unfolding just days ago in Nakuru County, underscores the perils artists face when blending talent with political homage in a tense election year.
Philemon Sang, a 35-year-old carpenter from the quiet Kaplelach village in Nyota Ward, Kuresoi, has long turned scrap wood and raw vision into icons that capture national pride.
His big break came last year with a towering statue of Olympic champion Faith Kipyegon, carved right after her Paris gold rush. That piece, erected in Eldoret, split opinions; some hailed it as a heartfelt tribute, others mocked its rough edges, but it put Sang on the map.
Undeterred, he doubled down this month, chiselling a fresh likeness of President Ruto, complete with the signature cap and steady gaze that echoes campaign trail charisma. “It’s my way of saying thank you for the inspiration,” Sang told neighbours before heading out, his tools still dusted with sawdust.
The drama kicked off on Sunday, October 26, a day before Ruto’s scheduled swing through the Rift Valley for development handshakes and voter chats.
Eager to make the handoff personal, Sang lugged the heavy sculpture over dusty roads to Sirikwa, aiming to link up with the area MP or an Office of the President rep. What he found instead was chaos. Eyewitnesses reveal of a mob, rough types in camouflaged jackets, circling him like hyenas on a limp gazelle.
They pounced, fists flying, as Sang clutched his creation, begging for a chance to explain. The sculpture, all two metres of polished mahogany dreams, vanished into the fray, snatched as a trophy or pawn in some unseen grudge.
Word spread that the goons were tied to the local MP’s camp, a claim that’s got tongues wagging in tea dens from Keringet to Njoro. The MP himself stepped in at first, barking orders for his aides to whisk Sang to safety in a waiting saloon car. Relief washed over the artist, or so he thought.
But midway down a rutted backroad, the vehicle veered into a sprawling maize field, golden stalks swaying like indifferent witnesses.
That’s when the real reckoning hit. “They dragged him out and beat him senseless with clubs and boots,” recounted Thomas Mitei, Sang’s father, his voice cracking over a crackly phone line to reporters.
Mitei, a weathered farmer with calloused hands from decades tilling the same red soil, pieced together the horror from hospital whispers. “My boy went to honour the President, not to bleed in the dirt. This sculpture was his heart poured into wood, just like the one he did for Ruto back when he was Deputy. That time, it earned him 50,000 shillings and a nod. Now? Stolen and shattered dreams.”
Sang stumbled from the ambush with ribs cracked, face swollen like an overripe mango, and a gash that needed eight stitches at Keringet Hospital.
Discharged Tuesday, he’s holed up in the family shack, sketching idly on napkins while painkillers dull the ache. Doctors say he’ll mend physically, but the theft of his art, a six-week labour born from late nights under kerosene lamps, stings deeper.
“He doesn’t talk much now,” Mitei added. “Just stares at the empty spot where the statue stood. We thought reaching out officially would bring pride to our village. Instead, it brought shame.”
No one’s claimed the hit publicly, and the MP’s office dodged calls Wednesday, citing “scheduling conflicts” ahead of Ruto’s tour wrap-up. Police in Kuresoi logged a report, but sources say it’s low on the pile amid maize theft spikes and bar brawls.
Ruto’s team, ever image-conscious, hasn’t commented, though insiders murmur of quiet enquiries. This isn’t Sang’s first brush with the powerful. That earlier Ruto bust, from his deputy days, sparked a small stipend that bought tools and hope.
The Kipyegon nod? It drew cheers from athletics fans tired of forgotten heroes. Yet here, in a county where politics simmers like ugali on low heat, art becomes ammunition. Critics see shadows of deeper rot. “Artists like Sang are the unsung threads of our storytellers,” said cultural advocate Jemimah Gecaga, founder of Nairobi’s ArtVibe Collective.
“Beating him for a gift? It’s not just thuggery. It’s silencing voices that humanise leaders.” Fellow creators from Eldoret welders to Kisumu painters rallied in comment storms, vowing fundraisers for a replacement piece.
One viral post reveals, “Ruto’s face in wood outlasts concrete promises. Protect the carvers.” As October’s sun dips lower, revealing long shadows over Kuresoi’s hills, Sang nurses wounds that mirror Kenya’s fractured canvas.
Will the stolen sculpture surface in some backroom deal or fuel a forgotten bonfire? The Ruto sculpture artist assaulted by goons isn’t mere headline fodder.
It’s a cautionary verse in the ballad of ambition, where talent meets the mob, and respect curdles into regret. For now, in Kaplelach, a father watches his son heal, one careful breath at a time, dreaming of wood that won’t splinter under pressure.