When top-performing athletes die, their deaths are given meanings that reflect the multitude of roles they play in the worlds they inhabit. This was no different when on February 11, 2024, Kenyan media announced the tragic death of 24-year-old marathon record holder Kelvin Kiptum alongside his coach, Garvis Hakizimana. His passing made international headlines as people across the globe mourned the many roles he played as an international athlete, a Kenyan, a son, a husband, and a father. Kiptum was the first athlete to run the marathon under 2:01, a landmark ratified by World Athletics only six days before his death. As such, he hoped to shatter the two-hour barrier at the Rotterdam Marathon in April 2024. Athletes of Kiptum’s caliber are the soul of the sport; they provide thrilling performances and push the boundaries of human performance to newer heights. When fans and officials mourned Kiptum, theirs was not a personal loss. Rather, they grieved the interruption of progress toward a higher standard of human performance. This feeling was especially tangible with Kiptum’s death at such a young age, which robbed us of years of brilliance and major strides in sporting achievement.

Kenyan athletes are national treasures. In the words of sports journalist Roy Gachuhi, they “are to the nation what forests are to the human race.” Just as every win is met with national jubilation, so citizens and political leaders registered Kiptum’s death as a national loss. In an unprecedented move, the Kenyan government gave Kiptum a state funeral. The decision to honor Kiptum in this manner was influenced by criticisms of the government’s chronic failure to care for its athletes despite milking their efforts and success for international fame and prestige. While Kenyan athletes have been invaluable and steadfast ambassadors of the country since the 1960s, the government has not always appropriately rewarded them. Articles written in the wake of Kiptum’s death highlighted other athletes, such as Samuel Wanjiru and Agnes Tirop, who both died young. Special attention was also given to Kenyan athletes Nicholas Bett, David Lelei, Samuel Kipkosgei, and Kenneth Muriithi, who died in accidents on Kenya’s roads. These statistics were not unique to Kenya, however, as a Vox article drew attention to a global trend of marathon runners killed in such circumstances.

While the athletes noted above died suddenly and tragically, it is worth noting that in the longer history of Kenyan running, ephemerality is the norm rather than the exception. Relatively few Kenyan athletes hang their spikes after a long career. In fact, since the 1960s, Kenyan newspapers are replete with articles inquiring the whereabouts of once high-performing athletes including Delilah Asiago, Henry Rono, Sabina Chebichii, Mathew Kisorio, Raymond Yator among others. 

It would seem that Kenyan women runners in the 1960s-1980s disproportionately experienced short careers due to injuries, cultural and structural barriers, bans for using performance-enhancing drugs, personal decisions, and sudden death.

Kiptum was an only child, husband, and father of two young children. Like many elite Kenyan runners he was the primary breadwinner. For his family, his death was the loss of a beloved one and a rupturing of the future his career promised. The Kenyan state stepped up to complete  construction of the houses Kiptum promised his parents and wife. As the media followed these rituals and events that led up to Kiptum’s burial, they brought down the curtain that often protects the families of elite Kenyan athletes from unwanted outside scrutiny. Yet, this protection can sometimes distract from the role of spouses and parents in enabling athletes to make history. It is only in Kiptum’s death that his wife, Asenath Rotich, became more visible, receiving an invitation to Rotterdam in April, where Kiptum was honored before the start of the race.

Even after Kiptum was laid to rest, the ruptures of his death reverberated. In the immediate aftermath, a group of Kenyan netizens speculated that Kiptum’s death was not an accident. Instead, they suggested, both overtly and covertly, that previous marathon record holder Eliud Kipchoge had a hand in his death. This might have just been a case of internet trolling if an interview with Kipchoge had not revealed the emotional damage these accusations had taken on him and his family. This was a first for a sport that had not previously witnessed such levels of animosity in Kenya. Those in the Kenyan fandom highlighted generational differences and intra-ethnic bias not immediately recognizable to outsiders as possible catalysts for these allegations.

On June 15, Athletics Kenya (AK) completed the Olympic trials and unveiled the official team that will represent the country at the summer games. Yet, even as confetti filled the stadium, Kiptum’s absence loomed large. This was a different team from what fans, athletes, and officials envisioned at the beginning of the year. Death ruptures pasts, presents, and futures. When the deceased is a world-famous icon like Kiptum, these ruptures are felt deeper and wider. But what becomes clearer in death is not entirely obscure in life. That is, the lives and careers of African athletes offer rich insights into different political, social, and cultural aspects of life on the continent.