TRENDING HORROR STORY: The Kenyan UBER DRIVER picks a DEPRESSED 'KDF' ARMY OFFICER who has been working in SOMALIA "Around Nairobi One Night at gun-point"

Me: What’s there?

Him: I’ll show you.

And so off to Lang’ata barracks we go. He asks me not to be in any hurry. That he wants to see the sights.

And as I drive down Uhuru Highway, he lowers his window, puts his hand out and makes waves against the wind. He seems at peace. Like this whole exercise is therapeutic to him.

I drive around the roundabout and up Lang’ata Road. Just as we are going past Nairobi West, he spots a drunk man beating up an equally drunk woman. She is scantily dressed and appears generally dishevelled. Consider it is going on 02:00h, it is easy to conclude she is a prostitute.

Him: Stop the car. Now!

He opens the door and jumps out even before the car has stopped completely. With his Colt in his hand, he runs towards the man and woman, yanks him away from her, kicks him on the stomach, hurls him to the ground and starts whipping him with his gun.

There’s a beat down and then there’s a gun whipping. I have never seen one before and I never see one again.

First a cut appears on the victim’s face. Followed by another. Then the cuts get too bloody. You can’t tell how many cuts there are exactly. Then the victim spits out a tooth followed by another and soon enough, he is choking on teeth and blood. His eyes are rolling to the back of his head and it looks like he is on the verge of dying. That amount of blunt force trauma to the face and head can’t be good for anyone’s brain.

Then Charles stops suddenly and turns to the woman. I’m watching all this from a far. Humans react differently to violence. Fight or flight. That’s what schools teach. But nobody ever tells you that there’s a third reaction. Freezing. Most people freeze in the face of violence. Me being one of them.


Charles takes his trenchcoat off and covers the woman up with it. She is trembling.  
Whether it is because she’s terrified or cold, I’ll never know.

He then hugs her and rubs her back continuously for a few minutes as her assailant lies on the ground groaning and choking.

After retrieving his hand grenades and other belongings from his coat, he hugs the lady again and joins me inside the car.

His hands have blood all over them. He wipes them clean with my wet wipes and wipes the gun too. But blood is never easy to clean off. After dumping the dirty wipes on the road, we drive off towards the barracks.

02:09h. Lang’ata Barracks. Nairobi.

We’re seated in the car outside the gate and he points to a place among some trees above the gate.

Him: Do you see that structure up there?

Me: (Leaning toward him to catch a glimpse of what he’s pointing at) Yeah.

Him: In that structure there is a .50 calibre machine gun with over a thousand rounds of ammunition accompanying it.

Me: What’s a .50 caliber machine gun?

Him: Well, when I was a kid we used to call them general purpose machine guns or GPMG. They are those huge machine guns you see hoisted in the back of a Humvee in movies.

Me: What’s a Humvee?

Him: It’s a fucking military jeep Daniel! Jesus Christ! You’re a good old pot of ignorance, aren’t you?

Me: Well forgive me for not knowing military jargon. You just picked me off the streets, remember?


Him: Well, a .50 calibre machine gun derives its name from its bullets. If it hits you, it could bloody well cut you in half.

Me: So why are we seated outside the barracks at half past two in the morning staring at weapons of mass destruction?

Him: Wangu and her company were patrolling a village about 100 kilometers south of Mogadishu when....CONTINUE READING>>>
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