How I fought for my life in ordeal and lived to thank God for it
By Kepher Otieno, August 1, 2025It was last Friday night, and I had just begun to drift into a deep sleep when a loud bang at the door jolted me awake.
At first, I wasn’t sure what was happening, but instinct told me something was terribly wrong.
I quickly got up, heart pounding, and walked straight to the sitting room. Through the window, I saw them—thugs, forcefully trying to break in.
I switched on all the lights, hoping the brightness might scare them off. It didn’t. In fact, it only seemed to fuel their aggression.
They doubled their efforts, hammering and battering the door with crude weapons—metal bars, machetes, pangas. Within moments, they succeeded.
They stormed in like a scene from a nightmare. Humanity was thrown out the window. The house was turned into a battlefield as we fought for our dear lives.
For almost fifteen minutes they ransacked everything and everywhere in the house—shattered windows, dismantled electronics, stole our TVs, laptops, mobile phones, even the Wi-Fi router and assorted valuables.
My young son and my brother were forced to lie face-down in fear, under threat of being assaulted if they dared move or speak or raise further alarm.
I rushed to my bedroom, locking the door behind me trying to seek refuge as a whispered solemn prayer for Gods mercy.
For close to six minutes, the thugs fought to break the bedroom door while I tried to hold it shut.
The door came down and I remained exposed.
What happened next is something I won’t describe in detail—not because I forget, but because the trauma is still raw and am still writhing in pain from the hospital bed rest.
After they were done with me, I was left bleeding heavily, helpless and broken.
They eventually fled, leaving behind a house stripped bare and a family in shock.
Life first
My brother peered through the window and shouted for help, but they were still here and we could see them taking off now that the neighbours were coming.
Stunned, with doors and windows broken, we had two choices: chase the attackers or save a life. We chose the latter. Neighbours rushed me hospital because I was bleeding profusely.
On the way, my brother suggested that we branch at the police station and report. That was by 2:36 am. At the police station, the officer on duty didn’t waste time- one look at my condition and he told us, “Please rush this man to the hospital now.
Come back later to record a full statement. Life first.”
Those words still echo in my mind.
The thugs were gone, but their terror lingers. I am recovering now, by the grace of God. And though the scars are many—some visible, others not—I am reminded and I also remind all colleagues and everyone daily that life is precious, and that courage, faith, belief in God are our strongest weapons.
-Kepher is a senior writer with the People Daily