At exactly 3:10 PM on Monday, an unsettling scream ripped through the aisles of the bustling Zawadi Supermarket in Thika town. Shoppers dropped their baskets. Trolleys came to a stop. An elderly man in the meat section flinched so hard he dropped his packet of minced beef. A pregnant woman holding a packet of baby wipes turned towards the commotion near the ladies’ clothing rack.
There, sprawled on the shiny tiled floor beside a row of bras and panties, was a woman estimated to be in her late 30s. Her face was twisted in pain. Her legs kicked frantically. Her voice echoed from the back of the supermarket to the main entrance.
“Uuuuuuwi! Uuuuwi! Nisaidieni!” she cried. “Inauma! Inaniuma sana!”
At first, security assumed it was a medical emergency. A woman in that level of agony could easily be experiencing labour pains or a sudden internal complication. But what made them hesitate was her next sentence.
“It is the bra! I just took the bra! Wacheni niondoe!” she yelled.
The guards, confused, looked at each other. One female security officer rushed to her side to help. That was when the full situation revealed itself.
Supermarket CCTV Footage Shows Suspicious Behaviour
Earlier that day, the woman had entered the supermarket wearing a light blue dress with a wide belt and a red sling bag. CCTV footage captured her walking slowly along the hygiene and beauty section before making her way to the clothing area.
For about fifteen minutes, she lingered among the undergarments, taking down one bra after another, comparing them in the mirror, checking their size, folding and unfolding them. She wasn’t in a rush. But she wasn’t shopping either.
At one point, she took a white bra with floral trimming and disappeared into a quiet corner between two tall shelves near the sanitary pads. When she re-emerged, the bra was no longer in her hands. She seemed more alert. Her walk changed. Her left hand clenched her side as if hiding something.
What the footage did not show, but what investigators later confirmed, was that the bra had been tucked inside her underwear and pressed firmly against her skin.
She made her way to the exit without buying anything. But before she could reach the main door, she stopped. She bent slightly, groaned, then staggered back toward the clothing section. Then, without warning, she screamed and fell.
Staff and Customers Freeze as the Woman Begs for Help
The scream was so sharp, it pierced through the quiet hum of the supermarket like broken glass. Children began crying. Some shoppers ran outside. Others stood in frozen silence. The woman was now on her knees, clutching her lower stomach. Her cries were specific and strange.
“Ni hiyo bra imeniuma! Siwezi toa! Inachoma!” she shouted.
Store attendants, unsure of what to do, tried to calm her. But she refused to be touched. She shouted at anyone who came too close. When the female guard tried to help her up, she slapped the air and shook her head.
“Achana na mimi! Kuna moto hapa chini!”
Eventually, she began to crawl slowly toward the clothing rack. Her eyes were wide. Her speech was no longer clear. Some say she was talking to someone invisible. Others say she was trying to apologise to the bra itself.
She finally managed to reach behind her dress, slipped her hand under, and pulled out the now crumpled white bra. As soon as it was out, she dropped it on the floor like a hot coal and screamed again. Her body began to calm slightly, though her breathing remained shallow and fast.
Security Declines to Involve Police Immediately
Normally, such an incident would result in police intervention. Theft, even of a single item, is taken seriously by supermarket management. But in this case, things were not so clear.
There was no struggle. No escape attempt. No argument. The woman was too shaken to even speak clearly.
Management reviewed the footage and confirmed the item had not passed through checkout. However, they decided to handle the matter quietly. She was taken to a private office, offered water, and later helped into a tuk-tuk with her sister, who had arrived shortly after being called. The bra remained in the supermarket.
Later that evening, a store worker mentioned something unusual.
“This is not the first time something like this has happened,” she whispered. “It started last month. Strange things with thieves.”
Similar Cases Reported in Supermarkets Across Kenya
Over the past four weeks, supermarket staff in Kisumu, Eldoret, Machakos, and Nairobi have spoken about peculiar incidents involving suspected thieves.
In Kisumu, a young man who hid razor blades inside his shoes ended up scratching his own ankles until they bled. He could not explain why.
In Machakos, a boy caught trying to slip sweets into his pocket began crying uncontrollably for an hour, unable to speak.
In Nairobi’s Eastlands area, a man who walked out with stolen margarine found himself stuck at the gate for twenty minutes, unable to lift his feet despite no visible blockage.
Each story is different. Yet they all point to a sudden, unexplained force acting at the moment of theft.
Public Reactions Range from Fear to Fascination
As news of the Thika bra incident spread, social media erupted with reactions. Memes flooded Twitter. Short clips of the woman’s scream were edited into songs on TikTok. WhatsApp groups circulated voice notes filled with speculation.
Yet amid the laughter were messages of warning.
People began saying supermarkets were now “armed silently.” Some joked about returning everything they had ever stolen. Others vowed never to touch what they had not paid for.
For small business owners who constantly lose goods to petty theft, the news brought unexpected hope. Maybe, they said, the days of helplessness were coming to an end.
Number that Circulates Among Traders
What shoppers did not know was that behind many of these incidents, there is a quiet movement happening. Not a group. Not a campaign. Just a number.
It is not advertised on TV. It does not appear on billboards. But those who have it pass it carefully to others. Like a gift. Like a secret weapon.
This number has been called by tailors, fruit sellers, salon owners, and wholesale suppliers. They all say the same thing. Something changed. Thieves no longer touch their stock. Their cash tills remain full. Their doors stay locked even without alarms.
And the best part?
No fighting. No chasing. No shouting.
The consequences now come from another place.
A Message for Business Owners, Traders, and Parents
Have you lost stock recently? Do you suspect your employees are stealing? Have your children complained of mysterious losses at school? Are you a woman whose handbag always seems to go missing in crowded places?
Maybe you have done everything. Cameras. Padlocks. Security dogs. Yet the theft continues.
Now there is another way.
No one will ask for your ID. You will not be required to explain everything. You only say what you want to protect. And then the results speak for themselves.
This is not punishment. It is preservation.
As the woman in Thika screamed, many laughed. Some pitied her. But those who watched carefully saw something else. A lesson. A signal. A message that times have changed.
If you want to work in peace, if you want to sleep without worry, if you want to carry your goods without watching over your shoulder, then make the decision today.
What you are protecting is not just property. It is your effort. Your dignity. Your peace of mind.
Thieves must now think twice. Because the pain that follows them is no longer physical.
It is silent. Invisible. And very, very real.
