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HAVE YOU DOWNLOADED BITCHAT YET?
As we all know, the regime is plotting an internet shutdown in the coming days, like they have done in all previous elections. They switch off the internet in order to block communication and ensure that citizens do not organise, verify their election results and demand for accountability over the massive election theft.
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Good afternoon Kenyans,
Chapter 2 summary of The People's Audit is out now.
Find it on this link.
https://t.co/iroRgPgZek
Will be working on chapters 3-5 within the coming days
(trying to balance work and this)
IMPORTANT message for everyone using Gmail.
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Retweet so every is aware.
@SunCultureKenya my payment was made on 25th August and I am still struggling to get answers!! Can someone please get in touch with me
@SunCultureKenya who do I follow up with about installation? Your agents and engineers are MIA
The British establishment have all ready covered this new Banksy up.
Can we get it Retweeted 10,000 times to show that they can never cover up their complicity in war crimes??
Protect the right to protest! RT!
If this comes across your TL please retweet until we find him and the others!!!
#RutoMustGoNow
#SiriNiNumbers
Haiyaaa⚡️
....the BIGGEST news content creator in the WORLD...just came to KENYA.......kijana ame CHOMA shule na VITABU zoooote!!!..alafu aka HEPA... 😂😂😂😂😂...KAZI YA MUNGU...HAINA MAKOSA!!! 😂😂😂😂 ... @dylanpage910
@frank_mwiti @chriskmaranga Agreed. It would also encourage people who are searching for leadership positions not for access to easy money, but to sustained economic growth. Low time preference thinking
@bevalynekwambo3 Look up RFK Jr work on autism and vaccine injuries. It was his major talking point while running for POTUS
We shall not be silenced.
My name is Boniface Mwangi. I am a Pan-Africanist, author, award-winning photojournalist, husband, father, and citizen of the Republic of Kenya, one of the member states of the East African Community. Agather and l are sharing our story to defy our torturers, who are cowards who wanted to silence us.
As a member of East Africa, I have the right to free movement across the East African Community and exercised this right by legally entering Tanzania. On 18th May, l arrived in Dar es Salaam to attend Tundu Lissu’s court case. Tundu had been arrested and detained on trumped-up ‘treason’ charges, the penalty for which is death in Tanzania.
I didn’t lie or misrepresent why l was entering the country. As friends of Tundu, as well as being pro-democracy and human rights defenders, Agather, myself, and other activists, lawyers and friends from Tanzania and across East Africa travelled to join him in solidarity, and to witness the scheduled court proceedings. There were eight of us on the same flight, and five of us were let through, while three others, Martha Karua, Lynn Ngugi, and Gloria Kimani were denied entry and later deported.
I went straight to my room at Serena Hotel and settled in for the night. At around midnight, l received a phone call from the reception informing me that some officers were there to see me. I didn’t go. They called three more times, but l refused to leave my room.
At around 12:15 am, armed men in civilian clothes came and violently knocked on my door, asking to see me. They had been escorted to my room by the hotel’s security after claiming to be police officers conducting a routine inspection. I refused to open the door. I was afraid to because of the reports that had been made by Tanzanian activists about enforced disappearances. After they threatened to take me by force, l posted on social media at around 12:30 am that my life was in danger.
I also contacted Tanzanian activists and they told me they would send a lawyer. The lawyer arrived at 3:30 am. He informed me the men who had come to my door were police officers, and l should go meet with them downstairs. Being alone and aware of the dangerous Tanzanian police, I was suspicious about why they had arrived in the middle of the night, so I refused to leave my room. I was afraid and concerned for my life and that is why I demanded to know the identities of the persons who intended to see me in the middle of the night without my invitation. I told the lawyer l would see them in the morning. I didn’t sleep, however. I packed my bags and sat on my bed waiting for dawn to break.
When morning came, l called Agather to come pick my bags and keep them in her room since l had to check out as I had an evening flight to Uganda to attend Kizza Besigye’s trial the next day. She was staying an extra night in Tanzania. I joined my colleagues downstairs for breakfast, and Agather took my bags to her room. At the restaurant, l decided to use the bathroom. When l exited the washroom, there were over a dozen men, in uniform and civilian clothes, waiting for me. I rushed back to my table screaming, to attract attention so that my fellow activists would know that l was about to be arrested.
The officers were led by Commissioner Samwel Mahirane of the Tanzania Immigration Department. He informed the President of the Tanganyika Law Society, Boniface Mwabukusi, that l wasn’t under arrest but they were taking me away for some questioning. I was driven away in Mahirane’s car accompanied by a lawyer of the Tanganyika Law Society.
We arrived at immigration, where I was interrogated about what l was doing in the country, and then recorded a statement. I was also fingerprinted and photographed. They then demanded that l produce my phone and laptop. I told them l didn’t have my phone and had left it.
At around 1:30 pm, l was taken back to the hotel. Serena Hotel's management provided CCTV footage to police showing Agather entering my room and leaving with my bag, which became the reason for her arrest, torture, rape, and illegal detention. We were taken to her room and it was searched. My bag was found, minus the phone and the laptop. That’s when the threats of violence by the police officers started. They started saying how they would beat me if I did not produce the phone l used to record and post the video I had shared online during the raid. They also confiscated Agather’s phone.
We were both taken back to immigration. Agather was interrogated for approximately two hours, with no presence of a lawyer, despite 3 lawyers being within the vicinity. They were ordered to keep off. At around 6:00 pm, my lawyer received a phone call from the Kenyan Ambassador to TZ, Isaac Njenga, who asked to speak to me. He told me l would be released and deported. My flight to Nairobi was at 8:00pm.
Within 5 minutes, another man came in, who l later learnt was from the State security, and he started referring to me as “mfungwa” (prisoner). He started beating me, in the presence of Agather and the three lawyers. He ordered me to remove my belt and emptied all my pockets. I later came to learn that it was around the same time that the President of the United Republic of Tanzania, Samia Suluhu Hassan, was quoted as saying that foreign activists from neighboring countries should not be allowed in Tanzania because they disrupt peace.
At around 7:00 pm, we were taken to the Central Police Station. A man who l later came to know was Faustine Jackson Mafwele (Assistant Commissioner of police, with numerous allegations of being the lead coordinator and implementer behind extra judicial killings, torture, and enforced disappearances) started making serious allegations against me. He said he had information that l had helped burn Kenya’s parliament last year, and l was a member of an illegal gang in Kenya. He also threatened to rape me. He levelled false accusations against me about things that could only have been fed to him by someone from the Kenya authorities.
The man who was from State security continued slapping and punching me in the presence of the lawyers, Agather, and other officers gathered at the police station. He said l would forever remember his face, even if l never saw him again. The lawyers were threatened and told they would be investigated for not being patriotic enough. Their association with us was considered a betrayal to Tanzania. They were ordered to leave, and they left us. Agather and l were each holding a book we had carried to read and Mafwele confiscated them. He asked me if l was circumcised, and after I confirmed to him that I was, he said he would circumcise me again to teach me a lesson.
They continued beating me, verbally abusing us, saying that we have been sent to ruin their country. Mafwele made a phone call to someone asking them to come and said that whether we liked it or not, we would produce my phone and laptop. We were told to wait at the reception. I asked one of the people at the reception to take me to the bathroom. When we got there, he said those people will do bad things to me, and it will be for my own good if l could produce the items they were asking for.
At around 8:00 pm, a group of 6 to 7 evil-looking men and one woman in civilian clothes walked into the office where Mafwele and the other officers had gathered. They went in, came back out, and told us to follow them. We were taken to a white Landcruiser that had tinted windows. At the back of the car were batons and vehicle registration plates. I was handcuffed in the back and blindfolded. Those men reeked of alcohol and looked dangerously evil. They drove for like 20 to 30 minutes and then we entered a compound.
In this undisclosed location, while still blindfolded and handcuffed, l was ordered to strip naked. After stripping naked, the handcuffs were removed. Someone put some padding on each hand. I was then grabbed by four strong men, two holding each hand, and the other two my legs. I was tied upside down and naked to a metal pole, with my legs hung over the metal bar, and my wrists tied around my ankles. They started hitting the soles of my feet with a wooden plank, and then someone would massage my feet after every hit. The pain cut so deep that l couldn’t even cry, but screamed in excruciating pain. They played gospel music at full blast on the car’s radio to drown out my screams.
I was tortured first. I was in a lot of pain and they demanded that I stop screaming as they claimed my screams would wake up the children. One of them said they should stuff my underwear in my mouth to muffle the screams. In this prone position, we were both viciously tortured, resulting in both external and internal wounds. The padding they had placed on our hands was to protect and minimise the injuries on the wrists, and to avoid the handcuffs causing deep wounds and marks.
When they were done beating the soles of my feet, they said, “weka moto” (put fire), and that’s when someone applied some lubricant on my anus, and they started shoving objects that l have no idea what they were. They laughed as they shoved the objects, and others would encourage whoever was doing it to push all the way. They removed my underwear from my mouth and started interrogating me while they assaulted me. They asked for my names, why l was in Tanzania, who l knew, where my gadgets were, and so on.
Despite my screams for help, they continued to violate me as they jeered. They told me they were recording everything, and if l dared to speak about what had happened to me, they would post the videos online. I was repeatedly asked to wiggle my waist while they inserted things in my anus, say I was enjoying myself and shout, “ASANTE MAMA SAMIA”. While l was still in a suspended position, my torturers continued to reign blows on me.
They photographed me while naked and then told me to turn around, squat while facing the wall, then one of them inserted their fingers into my anus. They asked me to say, “Asante Mama Samia” while they were violating me. They informed me again that they had recorded everything, including the gruesome torture, and made it clear that any attempt to publicize what they did to me would result in the release of the photos and videos to the public.
They then removed my blindfold and told me to turn around and face the camera. While all this torture was going on, I was repeatedly asked what was my purpose for being in Tanzania and I was repeatedly accused of burning the Parliament of Kenya. At this point I could also hear the loud screams of Agather who was crying out for help. I also heard one of our torturers declare that he wanted to be given an opportunity to rape Agather.
The officers asked for my email address and social media account handles and passwords. They also asked for my wife’s and children’s names, the school my children attended, and the address of my residence. They threatened to harm my family if l revealed what they had done to me. I was then told to dress up, which l did, and they handcuffed and left me on the cold floor. I groaned in pain the entire night, and l could hear Agather suffering near me. Any attempt to talk to each other was met with blows and we were ordered to be silent.
We were woken up on 20th May 2025 and ordered to strip naked. We were told we were going to take a shower. I could barely walk due to the excruciating pain in my feet and ankles. I asked for permission to crawl like a dog instead. I was still handcuffed and blindfolded. I crawled for some distance. In the bathroom, they opened the handcuffs and removed the blindfold. I found a bucket with water for my bath.
The man who removed my blindfold was in civilian clothes and armed with an AK-47 rifle. He watched me as l bathed. Once l was done, he gave me a new set of clothes from the bag and some open shoes l had carried. He put back the blindfold and handcuffs and led me to a white Landcruiser. A man with an AK-47 sat opposite me. The car drove off and we were on the road for hours, and hours, and hours. I wasn’t even allowed to take a bathroom break. When it started getting dark, l told them I had to relieve myself and they gave me a bottle to pee in. After many hours of driving, l was dumped in a room, still handcuffed and blindfolded. They gave me a soda and a loaf of bread. I ate while blindfolded and handcuffed. All this time they kept insulting and harassing me.
On Wednesday, 22nd May, I was given tea and a mandazi. That afternoon, their tone changed and they asked me what l wanted to have for lunch. I told them l didn’t have an appetite but they said l must eat. I asked for fruits, which they brought without a fork or anything to eat with. I ate off the plate like a dog. They also gave me pain killers, and said they would release me with an “Onyo Kali.” That l should never step back in Tanzania or they will kill me. And if l shared what they did to me, they would find me and murder me.
That evening, when it was dark, l was told to remove my open shoes and taken outside to learn how to walk. They surrounded me and told me to walk around. My feet were swollen and it was very painful to walk. Afterwards, l was offered my first proper meal since Monday, but l couldn’t eat it since l had no appetite. In the early morning hours, they woke me up, put some money in my pocket and dumped me by the roadside. They told me not to dare open my eyes until they were gone. When l opened my eyes, I found a boda boda guy waiting, and he dropped me a few metres away from the Horohoro border. They had given me Tsh 20,000 and Ksh 400. I used the money to pay someone who helped me cross the border and I went through the Tanzanian Customs at the border point. They stamped my passport and after crossing into Kenya, l called my wife.
I was never legally deported to Kenya, but summarily dumped at the Horohoro border post near Ukunda, Kwale County, on the morning of Thursday, 22nd May, 2025. In order to preserve my memory and evidence, I recounted the events since my illegal arrest and detention. That due to the illegal arrest and illegal detention, I faced a lot of torture that resulted in both physical and mental harm.
My name is Boniface Mwangi and this is my story. I will not be silenced. The days of silence are over.
Nairobi, 2nd June 2025.
Retweet 🙏 it can't cost you anything
#FreeNjeri
Take your 5 minutes and watch this guy cook the entire Water Resource Authority panel, I love this so much😂
RT WIDELY
#FreeRoseNjeri
The Fable of the Money Magician
In a faraway land called Credulia, people worked, traded, and saved golden coins. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was fair—what you earned, you kept. What you saved, you owned.
But one day, a man in a velvet robe arrived. He called himself The Money Magician.
“I can help your kingdom grow rich,” he told the king. “Just let me make more money.”
“How?” asked the king.
“I’ll create it from nothing,” the magician whispered. “You’ll have new money to spend—but no one will notice at first. Prices will rise slowly. It’ll feel like magic.”
And so, the magician built a great tower in the center of the city, called the Central Mint, where he quietly made new coins.
The king used this new money to build statues of himself, give handouts, and hire helpers to praise his wisdom.
But something odd began to happen. The money lost its sparkle. It bought less. The poor couldn’t afford bread. The middle class couldn’t save. Only the king and his friends kept growing richer.
People started to grumble. “Why are prices so high? Why do we have to work more and get less?”
The king panicked. He rushed to the Money Magician.
“Don’t worry,” said the magician, smiling. “We’ll use the new money to train experts and teachers who will explain that all of this is for the people’s good. We’ll call it 'stimulus' and say it creates jobs. We'll build schools to teach children that more money is always the answer.”
And so they did.
Soon, scholars gave long speeches on why printing money was wise. Teachers taught children that saving was selfish, and spending was patriotic. Newspapers wrote that anyone who questioned it was a danger to society.
More money was printed. More lies were spread. And the more the people suffered, the more they were told it was their fault—for not understanding “modern economics.”
But in secret, a few people remembered gold. And truth. And fairness.
One day, a boy stood in the square and shouted:
“If printing money makes us rich, why are we all getting poorer—except the king and the magician?”
The guards came quickly. But the people were already listening...
--
Moral of the Story:
When thieves steal money, it’s a crime. When they use the money to rewrite truth, it becomes a kingdom of lies. This is the origin story of Keynesian economics.
https://t.co/CkKKygR6WJ
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What you will receive :
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