The Pain of Losing a Car... A Story I Never Thought I’d Tell 💔.
Let me tell you a story…not as a car hire company, not as a business owner,
but as a human being who experienced that moment where reality suddenly stops making sense.
It was a normal night.
The car was parked safely at an apartment parking along Kenyatta Road.
Nothing unusual. No alarm. No suspicion. Just another routine day closed peacefully.
You know that confidence you have when you lock your car and walk away?
That silent belief that kesho everything will still be where you left it.
That was it.
Then morning came. Someone walked down to the parking…and called.
That call. The kind that instantly changes your breathing. "Gari haiko."
At first, your brain refuses to process.
You even laugh kidogo thinking ni confusion.
Maybe imeparkwa wrong spot.
Maybe caretaker aliisongesha.
Maybe mwingine amepark juu yake. So you go physically to confirm. You reach the parking. And there it is… an empty space staring back at you.
That silence hits differently.
Later we reviewed CCTV footage.
And that’s when disbelief turned into shock.
The thieves arrived calmly in a Corolla.
No hurry. No panic. No fear. For one full hour, walikuwa hapo. One hour.
Imagine sleeping peacefully while strangers are outside fighting your car door step by step.
They struggled for long… moving around the vehicle… trying different access points… until finally they gained entry kupitia rear left door.
Two trackers installed for safety?
Disabled right there at the scene.
Clean work. Planned work. Professional work.
And suddenly you understand, this was not luck.
It was intention. From that moment, akili yangu ilihang. I went back to that apartment four different times. Because your mind keeps negotiating with reality.
You start doing irrational things.
Ushawahi tafuta kitu mpaka kwa sink?
Chini ya bed? Kwa balcony?
Places you KNOW the car cannot possibly be?
Yes. That became me.
You walk around hoping maybe… just maybe… it will magically reappear.
I left the house at 4am rushing to follow leads.
No shower. No breakfast. Nothing.
I only realized 17 hours later after police stations, OB numbers, statements, calls, explanations that sikuwa hata nimeoga.
You keep narrating the same story:
Where was it parked?
What time last seen?
Who had access?
Was it locked?
Again.
And again.
And again.
By evening the story stops sounding real even to you.
Stress is contagious.
By jioni honestly, mtu angesikia conversations zetu angefikiria tumetoroka Mathare tukapewa concoction ya jaba na cookies.
That’s how exhausted reasoning becomes.
Then trauma starts showing itself in strange ways.
Every red car becomes yours.
Every passing Demio makes your heart jump.
You slow down traffic just to confirm number plate. From then, in every three cars I see…
two look like red Demios.
Brain refuses closure.
For almost 72 hours, appetite disappeared.
Today ndiyo nadhani nimekula.
But even today, akili bado haijarudi fully.
I parked another car absent-mindedly… tukaitafuta almost one hour again.
That’s when I realized loss stays in your system.
Later along Muindi Mbingu Street, Kanjo stopped me claiming I made a 90° turn.
Buana honestly, sikujua hata wanamaanisha nini.
Special appreciation to Sikika and everyone who helped amplify the alert, you carried this story far beyond what we could have done alone.
Your kindness has truly held us together.
So I’m asking again, kindly…
🙏 Continue resharing.
You never know who might see something.
You never know whose small information might bring it back home.
For now, we remain hopeful.
Because sometimes hope ndiyo kitu pekee unabaki nayo when logic fails.
@itskipronoh No one has time to convince you, we are all witnesses of this current regime's lack of even the slightest respect for human life. Can't get any lower than that.
They’re spreading lies that Gen Z isn’t registering to vote, aiming to foster apathy and undermine civic engagement.
This narrative is crucial to dupe highly-excitable but irredeemably-corrupt muzungu’s like @FCDONeilWigan@EUAmbKenya@UNDPKenya to validate rigging under the guise of “poor voter turnout” as touted by bribed influencers and mainstream (githeri) media journalists.
In reality, Kenyan youth are reclaiming their power from the vocal slum-dwelling and peasant minority who falsely claim to represent the majority vote.
If corrupt politicians are banking on churches or stupid old women, like those Mutahi Kahiga recently addressed, they’re in for a surprise.
Voting is just one tool in the arsenal - Kenyan youth have many cards to play when the moment arrives.