In the violence-plagued Rift Valley town of Nakuru, everybody was talking about the new curfew. Imposed by the government to stem fighting between gangs from different tribes, the order to be either indoors or out of town by 7 p.m. seemed to be having an unexpected and tragic consequence - sexual violence was on the increase.

At one of the town's camps for people displaced by Kenya's post-election turmoil, an elderly man told me his niece had been lured outside and raped.

Sadly, this was not an isolated crime. Only days before, the rape of three girls had been reported to camp authorities.

"People know the girls are vulnerable and they do not know their way around," said a member of a committee of government officials, residents and aid agencies that is coordinating activities at the camps.

He explained that since the curfew, the prostitution trade in town had collapsed as bars and nightclubs closed early. Men looking for flesh had found an alternative in the camps. Officials said they'd received reports men were driving around in cars, scavenging for sex.

As in other Kenyan towns, the sex trade thrives in Nakuru, oiled by a flourishing entertainment trade and vibrant night life. Scantily dressed girls descend into town at dusk, where they position themselves in nightclubs and street corners to lure clients. With the curfew, the girls are missing.

The official's comments reflected concerns raised by aid agencies Merlin International and the Adventist Development and Relief Agency that the camps had become hunting grounds for sex pests.

Officials fear conditions could trigger a rise in HIV infections, after a survey in Kisii, a town about four hours away by bus, also found an increase in casual sex in camps.

Deprived of ways to make a living, the displaced people there had found themselves with too much time to spare, the survey found. Sex appeared to be one of the only ways to whittle away time.

The two organisations said sex pests posing as displaced people had infiltrated camps there.

The magnitude of Kenya's humanitarian crisis is unprecedented, and even the government was caught off guard by the post-election violence in which 1,000 people were killed.

"There was a lot of confusion. Many people were coming every day in trucks and there was no one to assist," a photojournalist said.

As more people spilled into camps, hundreds of volunteers who had no experience of handling emergencies found themselves in the middle of the crisis. Situations in the camps that called for urgent interventions were sometimes left to fester.

The significance of this is that some rapes were not being reported, or were being discovered too late. The official told me the rape of the three girls was reported several days after it had already happened because those who heard about it first did not know how to react.

By the time the girls were taken to hospital, there was no evidence of rape. And when police went to arrest suspects at the camps, they were repelled by gangs who thought their tribesmen were being harassed unfairly. It seems even grave issues are being looked at through tribal lenses.

"We don't feel safe at all," said a woman at another camp. "We want to go home."

But her home no longer exists - it was burnt down during the violence in Eldoret, another town in the Rift Valley.

Kenya's political leaders may have struck a deal, but I doubt many people in the camps will be leaving for quite some time. Few would want to venture back to homes where they saw their relatives, friends and neighbours bludgeoned to death.

Patrick Mathangani is blogging a personal capacity.

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