Kenyans count bodies in post-election battleground

NAKURU, Kenya (Reuters) - Bodies of murdered Kenyans piled up in Nakuru mortuary on Saturday. Some adults, some children. Some bore the machete blows, spear thrusts and arrow shots that probably finished them off.

All had been burned, their limbs and digits curled up and faces rigid as if frozen in horror.

At least 27 people have been killed in the past two days in clashes between rival ethnic gangs in Nakuru, a lakeside town nestled in a breathtaking stretch of Kenya's Rift Valley that was once a hit with tourists.

Until Friday, it had escaped weeks of violence that has killed at least 700 people in the east African country and forced 250,000 from their homes since a disputed December 27 election returned President Mwai Kibaki to power.

Not anymore. As police unloaded sixteen burnt bodies off the back of a pick-up truck, a crowd stood by in shock, looking away as each corpse was dumped. A woman wailed and ran away.

"I've never experienced this in Kenya," said a sharply dressed man in a navy polo shirt, his face streaming with tears. "I just pray that our leaders end this thing quickly."

Kibaki's rival Raila Odinga, who lost by a narrow margin in a vote international observers say was flawed, claims rigging.

Many have died in clashes between rival tribes that have exposed the deep ethnic fault lines in the nation's politics.

"TRIBALISTIC MADNESS"

Like many victims of the bloodshed in his country, long seen as one of Africa's most stable, Nicodemus Adede knew his attackers -- they were friends.

"They're people who have lived together with us doing this. Can you imagine?" the 29-year-old motorcycle taxi driver asked, nursing two machete wounds on his head as he waited at a Nakuru hospital where 165 victims have been treated.

"We were friends but this is like tribalistic madness. I still don't know how why they did it."

As he spoke, a man with an arrow sticking out of the side of his skull walked past -- dazed but somehow still conscious. Workers from the medical charity Medecins Sans Frontiers scurried about treating the wounded and taking X-rays.

Even the many lucky enough to escape the machetes or poisoned arrows still lost their homes to gangs who looted and torched them. Refugees sheltered in fields and churchyards.

Some piled up the belongings they had salvaged: wooden furniture, suitcases, sofas, even fridges and stereos -- belying the relative prosperity of the popular tourist town.

"At least we're alive," said Mureithi Kibinge, 25, a credit officer for a small finance firm, as he balanced a wardrobe, bed and sofa on a trailer. A mob had burnt his house to ashes.

"All these material things can still be acquired again. We just want our peace back."

(Editing by Daniel Wallis)