From the shores of Sanita Kitole’s quiet coastal town of Uyombo in southern Kenya, one can see dolphins bobbing in the water from time to time. The environmental activist has grown deeply attached to the biodiversity of his region, he says, located in Watamu Marine National Park. For several years now, he’s been working with community groups, especially women, to reforest mangroves and develop sustainable businesses in Mida Creek. But over the past two years, the town of Uyombo has made headlines, thanks to the government eyeing the area as the site for the first nuclear power plant in Kenya. According to NuPEA, the national nuclear power regulator, the country’s development ambitions could significantly increase its electricity needs, rendering the current electricity production, generated largely by hydropower, insufficient. The potential project has triggered anger among the largely fishing-dependent local population, who say they fear losing their land, their access to the sea, and their livelihoods. “[The proponent of the nuclear plant] just came here. They tell you this is the place that we have chosen to build the power plant. That’s all. And then you lose everything,” Kitole says. Residents also say the plan for managing radioactive waste is unclear to them, and highlight the project’s proximity to Watamu Marine National Park and Arabuko-Sokoke Forest, a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve. Protests have erupted over the plans. ​​“They didn’t involve us from the start, didn’t explain what nuclear energy is. When we asked questions, we got arrested,” Kitole says. But despite protests, plans to use the land for a nuclear power plan are technically legal and sources tell Mongabay that it is reigniting long-standing tensions over community land rights in the country. In this area, the majority of the population doesn’t have title to the land. That makes the land essentially the property of the state, which can dispose of it for projects as it sees fit. Researchers say this is part of a recurring pattern throughout the country: because of how the Community Land Act plays out, many communities can’t get titles because the process is complicated and expensive. For years, residents of Uyombo have tried to address the situation and obtain papers, but without success… Mongabay sought comment from Kenya’s National Land Commission, the Ministry of Infrastructure, and the Office of the President, but didn’t receive any responses by the time this story was first published.

Securing title to community lands can cost 3 million to 4 million shillings ($23,300 to $31,000), according to Joyce Mbataru, communications manager at the Kenyan Wildlife Conservancies Association (KWCA). By contrast, it costs only around $1,000 in administration fees to obtain a private land title — an option some community members opt for. The average annual income in the country is around $2,000. “Most of the costs are related to government technical support, awareness,” Mbataru tells Mongabay. She adds county governments are sometimes not supportive or cooperative in helping securing communities secure land titles, due to conflicts of interest…

In other regions, communities have also faced obstacles in gaining land titles. In northern Kenya’s Turkana region, U.K.-listed Tullow Oil was prospecting for oil on land that pastoral communities lived on but didn’t have title to. The county government decided to allocate the land to the oil company, and when it started its project, the pastoralists faced eviction. Similarly, the Ogiek people in the Mau Forest lacked titles, and in 2009 the Kenyan government decided to take over their land, affecting their livelihoods. After a long legal battle, the Ogiek won: they were officially recognized as a community and obtained the right to dispose of their land…