Mama Uhfe

08/02/2025

Please hear out my true life story🙏🏾

Mama Uhfe – Episode 1: The First Sacrifice

The road to Nairobi was long, but it wasn’t the distance that made it heavy—it was the weight of what I left behind.

I can still see my mother’s face the morning I walked away. She stood at the door of our small mud house, holding Uhfe on her hip. His little fingers had curled around my shawl, refusing to let go. His cries echoed in my chest long after I boarded that old, rusty matatu that carried me away from him.

"Mama, where are you going?" His tiny voice had broken me.

"To find us a better life, my love," I had whispered, kissing his soft forehead.

I lied. I didn’t know if life would get better. But I had to believe it.

Nairobi – The City of Dreams or Nightmares?

The first time I stepped into Nairobi, the air felt different—thick with ambition, but also something else... danger. The streets hummed with life, matatus racing past with reckless speed, vendors shouting, people pushing through the crowds like life itself was chasing them.

I had one contact—an old friend from the village, Aunty Beatrice, who promised to help me find work. She lived in Kibera, one of the biggest slums in the city. When I arrived, she welcomed me with open arms, but the moment I sat down, reality hit hard.

"Uhfe, in Nairobi, no one helps you for free," she warned as she stirred watery porridge in a dented sufuria. "If you’re not smart, this city will eat you alive."

The next morning, she took me to an agency that placed house helps in wealthy homes. That was how I met my first employer—Madam Cynthia in Kileleshwa.

I thought she would be kind. I was wrong.

The First Home – A House, Not a Home

Madam Cynthia’s mansion was bigger than my entire village. It had marble floors, a swimming pool I was forbidden to touch, and glass chandeliers that sparkled like dreams I could never afford.

"You will work here. Cooking, cleaning, washing. No mistakes. No laziness. And keep your mouth shut," she said, handing me an old uniform.

Her first rule was simple: Never speak unless spoken to.

Her second rule was brutal: Never expect respect.

I worked from 4 AM to midnight, scrubbing floors so clean I could see my reflection in them. Madam barely acknowledged me, but when she did, it was only to criticize.

"You villagers are so slow!"

"Didn’t your mother teach you anything?"

"Even my dog has more sense than you!"

Every word was a stab, but I swallowed the pain. I had no choice.

Then, came the real danger. Her husband.

The Shadow in the Hallway

It started with stares. Then, comments. Then, unwanted touches when no one was watching.

"You work too hard, Mama Uhfe," he whispered one evening, his breath too close to my ear.

I froze. My skin crawled. I wanted to run. But where?

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay on my thin mattress, heart racing, waiting for footsteps outside my door. Waiting for something worse.

This job was my only hope. But was it worth my dignity? My safety? My soul?

For Uhfe, I had to endure.

But for how long?

08/02/2025

Mama Uhfe – Episode 5: The Accusation
The morning after that terrifying night, I went about my duties in a daze, my mind racing with escape plans. Where could I go? Who would take me in? How would I survive?

But before I could find answers, trouble found me first.

I was scrubbing the kitchen floor when I heard Madam Cynthia’s furious voice call out.

"Mama Uhfe! Get in here, you filthy thief!"

My stomach dropped.

I rushed to the living room, hands trembling, only to find her standing by the dresser, holding a small velvet box. The house was silent, except for the sharp sound of her nails tapping against the lid.

Inside, her wedding ring was missing.

I knew, at that moment, that I was doomed.

"Where is it?" she hissed, her eyes burning into mine.

I blinked, confused. "Madam, I… I don’t understand."

She threw the box at my feet. "Don’t play dumb! My diamond ring is missing, and you are the only one who enters this room when I’m not around!"

"Madam, I swear on my life, I have never touched your ring!" My voice cracked.

She scoffed. "Oh, please. You village girls come here acting innocent, but you’re all the same—greedy, desperate, and shameless."

Tears burned my eyes.

"Madam, I would never—"

"Shut up!" she snapped. "You think I don’t know what’s going on in my own house?"

I swallowed hard. "I don’t understand…"

She stepped closer, her perfume thick and suffocating. "You’ve been throwing yourself at my husband, haven’t you?"

My breath caught.
"W-what?"

"Don’t act surprised! The way you walk around here, pretending to be innocent, pretending to be quiet. I see it! The little games you play to seduce men!"

I shook my head frantically. "Madam, please, I swear on my child, I have done nothing!"

Her lips curled in disgust. "Liar."

My legs went weak.

Mr. K was sitting on the couch, watching everything. Silent. Expressionless.

This was his doing. This was his trap.
Madam Cynthia’s voice sliced through my panic. "I should call the police!To be continued..

31/01/2025

Mama Uhfe – Episode 3: The Trap

I woke up with a knot in my stomach. Something was coming. I could feel it in the heavy silence that filled the house, in the sharp way Madam Cynthia’s heels clicked against the marble floor, in the way Mr. K’s eyes lingered on me like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

I moved through my work like a ghost, avoiding his gaze, keeping to myself. But fear has a scent, and predators can smell it.

That evening, Madam Cynthia sat in the living room, scrolling through her phone, her manicured fingers tapping against the screen. I had just placed a tray of tea on the table when she suddenly looked up at me.

"Mama Uhfe."

My breath caught in my throat.

"Yes, Madam?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

I swallowed hard. "No, Madam."

She leaned back, crossing her legs. "Are you sure? Because I don’t like secrets in my house."

I could feel Mr. K’s presence behind me, lounging on the couch, pretending to read the newspaper. My skin crawled.

"I have nothing to hide, Madam," I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.

She stared at me for a long moment, then waved her hand dismissively. "Fine. Go."

But as I turned away, I heard her mutter under her breath. "Dirty village girls… always looking for trouble."

My chest tightened. Did she suspect? Did she know?

That night, I locked my door.

But locks don’t stop powerful men.

Episode 4: A Night of No Escape

I woke to the sound of my door handle rattling.

My blood turned to ice.

I sat up, heart hammering, staring at the shaking door. The lights in the corridor were off, but I knew. I knew who it was.

"Mama Uhfe," a voice whispered. "Open up."

Mr. K.

My throat dried up. I pressed my back against the wall, my body trembling.

"I know you're awake. Don’t make me angry."

I covered my mouth, suppressing a sob. God, please. Not like this.

The handle rattled harder. Then, silence.

For a long moment, I didn’t move. Had he gone?

Then, footsteps. Walking away.

I waited until I could no longer hear them before collapsing onto my thin mattress, my body shaking violently.

That night, I made a decision.

I had to leave. Before it was too late.

But Nairobi was not kind to women who ran.

31/01/2025

Mama Uhfe – Episode 2: A Dangerous Proposition

That night, sleep was a distant dream. I lay awake on the thin mattress, staring at the dark ceiling, listening to the faint hum of city life outside. My heart pounded at every creak, every shifting shadow under my door. Was he coming?

Morning arrived too soon. I dragged my tired body to the kitchen, forcing my hands to work through the fear. Scrubbing. Sweeping. Cooking. Surviving.

Madam Cynthia’s sharp voice sliced through the silence.

"You’re slower than usual today! Are you sick, or just stupid?"

I forced a smile. "Sorry, Madam."

She didn’t care for an answer. She never did.

Mr. K was already seated at the dining table, reading his newspaper. His eyes flickered to me, holding my gaze for a second too long. The same smirk. The same danger.

"Mama Uhfe," he called smoothly. "Bring me more tea."

My hands trembled as I poured, careful not to spill a drop. His fingers brushed against mine, deliberately slow. I pulled away, my skin crawling.

Madam Cynthia was busy on her phone, unaware. Or maybe she knew and chose to ignore it. Rich women don’t question their husbands, especially when their wealth comes from them.

Later that afternoon, when Madam left for her salon appointment, Mr. K found me alone in the laundry room.

"You work too hard," he said, leaning against the door. "A woman like you deserves a better life."

I stiffened. I knew what was coming.

"I could help you, you know," he continued, stepping closer. "More money. Less work. Just… be nice to me."

I wanted to scream. To run. To slap him across his smug face.

But I needed this job. Uhfe needed me to keep this job.

"Sir, I respect you," I whispered, keeping my eyes low. "Please, don’t do this."

His fingers brushed my arm. A chill ran down my spine.

"Think about it," he murmured before walking away, leaving me breathless with fear.

I could not stay here. But where would I go?

That night, I prayed. For strength. For protection. For a way out.

29/01/2025

Mama Uhfe – Episode 1: The First Sacrifice

The road to Nairobi was long, but it wasn’t the distance that made it heavy—it was the weight of what I left behind.

I can still see my mother’s face the morning I walked away. She stood at the door of our small mud house, holding Uhfe on her hip. His little fingers had curled around my shawl, refusing to let go. His cries echoed in my chest long after I boarded that old, rusty matatu that carried me away from him.

"Mama, where are you going?" His tiny voice had broken me.

"To find us a better life, my love," I had whispered, kissing his soft forehead.

I lied. I didn’t know if life would get better. But I had to believe it.

Nairobi – The City of Dreams or Nightmares?

The first time I stepped into Nairobi, the air felt different—thick with ambition, but also something else... danger. The streets hummed with life, matatus racing past with reckless speed, vendors shouting, people pushing through the crowds like life itself was chasing them.

I had one contact—an old friend from the village, Aunty Beatrice, who promised to help me find work. She lived in Kibera, one of the biggest slums in the city. When I arrived, she welcomed me with open arms, but the moment I sat down, reality hit hard.

"Uhfe, in Nairobi, no one helps you for free," she warned as she stirred watery porridge in a dented sufuria. "If you’re not smart, this city will eat you alive."

The next morning, she took me to an agency that placed house helps in wealthy homes. That was how I met my first employer—Madam Cynthia in Kileleshwa.

I thought she would be kind. I was wrong.

The First Home – A House, Not a Home

Madam Cynthia’s mansion was bigger than my entire village. It had marble floors, a swimming pool I was forbidden to touch, and glass chandeliers that sparkled like dreams I could never afford.

"You will work here. Cooking, cleaning, washing. No mistakes. No laziness. And keep your mouth shut," she said, handing me an old uniform.

Her first rule was simple: Never speak unless spoken to.

Her second rule was brutal: Never expect respect.

I worked from 4 AM to midnight, scrubbing floors so clean I could see my reflection in them. Madam barely acknowledged me, but when she did, it was only to criticize.

"You villagers are so slow!"

"Didn’t your mother teach you anything?"

"Even my dog has more sense than you!"

Every word was a stab, but I swallowed the pain. I had no choice.

Then, came the real danger. Her husband.

The Shadow in the Hallway

It started with stares. Then, comments. Then, unwanted touches when no one was watching.

"You work too hard, Mama Uhfe," he whispered one evening, his breath too close to my ear.

I froze. My skin crawled. I wanted to run. But where?

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay on my thin mattress, heart racing, waiting for footsteps outside my door. Waiting for something worse.

This job was my only hope. But was it worth my dignity? My safety? My soul?

For Uhfe, I had to endure.

But for how long?