The streets of Gikomba are known for chaos, movement, and the unmistakable buzz of thousands of traders shouting prices. In between the rows of shoes, clothes, and household goods, matatus swerve in and out of the narrow lanes like blood in a clogged artery. It is a place where you must stay sharp, keep your bags close, and watch your pockets every second. But on Wednesday morning, the usual warnings seemed unnecessary. That day, the punishment came instantly.
It was 10:23 AM when a loud scream startled a packed matatu on its way to town. A woman in the back seat cried out in panic. A man seated behind her had reached over and yanked her handbag with shocking speed. But before he could jump out of the matatu, something unexpected happened.
His hands stopped.
Not just paused. Not hesitated.
They froze.
Right there in the act.
He was still gripping the handle of the woman’s purse, but his body had become stiff like he was trapped inside a photograph. His eyes blinked, but everything else had halted. His arms, his fingers, even his upper torso were locked in place.
The woman, still trembling, turned around to snatch her bag back. But as she pulled, the thief’s hands would not let go. It was as if the fingers had melted into the leather.
And then he spoke.
Or rather, he shouted.
“Wewe ni mnoma!” he cried. “Usiniletee shida! Nimekosea!”
Passengers Watch in Disbelief as Scene Unfolds
The matatu had just passed Muthurwa footbridge when the driver pulled over. Everyone got out to see what was happening. The man’s body was now in a hunched position. His mouth moved, begging, bargaining, but his arms would not obey. He tried to stand. He tried to let go. He tried to reason with the woman. But none of it helped.
A traffic officer who happened to be nearby approached, thinking it was just another thief caught in the act. But when he attempted to force the man’s hands off the bag, he too stepped back in confusion.
“It is like his bones are no longer listening to him,” the officer said.
Crowds gathered. Phones came out. Videos were recorded. People whispered. Some laughed nervously. Others said it must be a new kind of trap.
No one could explain it.
The man kept apologising to the air, as if speaking to someone no one else could see.
“Wewe ni mnoma,” he repeated again and again.
One older lady whispered that maybe the woman he tried to rob had a secret protection. Something spiritual. Something stronger than prayers.
Matatu Crew Members Reveal Suspect’s History
According to the matatu conductor, the man was no stranger. He often boarded vehicles pretending to be a quiet, sleepy commuter. But once the vehicle got full, he would target women with handbags or small phones, always seated near the window to escape easily.
“He has done this before,” said the conductor. “But today, something grabbed him before we could.”
The driver nodded. “It was like someone pressed pause on him.”
They admitted they had chased him out several times in the past. But this time, it seemed he had been chased by something else.
Wider Pattern Across Nairobi’s Busy Routes
This strange reaction is not the first of its kind. For the past month, multiple reports have emerged from areas like Ngara, Pipeline, Githurai, and Umoja. In every case, a petty thief was caught mid-act and rendered powerless in a bizarre way.
In one instance, a man who stole a tray of samosas from a food cart ended up vomiting uncontrollably and crying for forgiveness before the food vendor even noticed they were gone.
In another case, a young man who tried to pickpocket someone’s phone during a crusade found himself dancing involuntarily for twenty minutes straight until he fell to the ground, shaking.
The stories are many. Each one more shocking than the last.
And slowly, one by one, victims are no longer speaking out. They are watching. They are letting justice happen quietly.
Vendors, Traders and Women Say They Feel Safer
For years, women travelling alone on public transport have been easy targets. Purses snatched, phones stolen, groceries lifted while they were distracted. Most accepted it as part of city life. A risk you take by stepping outside.
But now, there is a shift in confidence.
Mary, the woman whose purse was grabbed in the Gikomba matatu, said she was tired of constantly replacing stolen items. She had been robbed three times in two months. But that morning, she felt no fear.
“I felt like my bag was held by something bigger than me,” she said. “I do not know what happened to him. But I did nothing.”
Women like Mary are not alone. Traders who used to lose stock daily now report quieter days. Schoolchildren are walking home with snacks still in their bags. M-Pesa agents are working late again.
The change is being felt everywhere. And it is not because thieves are disappearing.
It is because the thieves are afraid.
Social Media Flooded with Footage and Testimonies
Videos of the matatu purse snatcher spread like wildfire. In less than four hours, three different angles had been uploaded online. Kenyans on Twitter, TikTok, and Facebook joked about the man’s frozen hands and his dramatic confession to “invisible powers.”
Some called it witchcraft. Others called it karma. Many simply called it justice.
But buried within the jokes and comments were real messages. People wanted to know how such protection was possible. They wanted to know if it could be accessed. They wanted to know who to call.
And quietly, people were already sharing the contact in inboxes.
One Call Can Protect Your Business or Home
While no names were mentioned on camera, behind the scenes a number kept circulating.
It is not a hotline. Not a shop. Not even an official service listed anywhere. But those who have called it share the same words. Immediate help. Powerful results. Total silence.
Whether you are a shopkeeper in a busy estate, a woman who travels daily with handbags, a student always on the move, or someone who keeps losing things without explanation—this number is your turning point.
Protection is not only for the wealthy. Safety is not only for the connected.
It is available for anyone ready to reclaim peace.
This Is Not Revenge. It Is Balance.
You are not asking for harm. You are asking for control.
You are not calling for violence. You are asking for a chance to work without fear.
Every day that passes without protection puts your life and property at risk. The streets do not forgive. And when petty thieves become bold, they return again and again.
Unless something stronger stops them.
No shouting. No arguments. No stress.
Let the thief carry his own punishment. Let your hands remain clean.
Final Message to Those Who Have Suffered Too Long
This story of frozen hands is not a joke. It is not fiction. It is your opportunity to stop depending on luck. If someone touches what is yours, let them face what they deserve. If they try to rob you, let your handbag fight back.
You do not need to announce it.
Just prepare.
Many have already made the call. Markets are calmer. Offices are more secure. Even supermarkets report fewer disappearing goods.
And all it took was one decision.
