The Shadow Side from Mind Your Own

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A sprinkle of a darkness and drum roll. It's coming to you courtesy of the Oscar winning star of stage and screen, the Peter Younger. Because that's how we roll. Some of you know how from Black Panther, or a quiet place day one, even 12 years of slave. But at spooked, we know Lupita as a storyteller.

A 3am texture, a gift giver, and a host extraordinaire. Lupita Neongo. Take it away. Spooked. This episode contains strong language and graphic imagery, sensitive listeners please be advised.

I don't know one Kenyan who would rule out witchcraft. Juju, Rogi. Ah, no, it doesn't exist. I feel in some capacity, every Kenyan has a little belief.

In my family, it was very much the Lord is our shepherd and the blood of the lamb will cover me and protect me.

But also, watch out for that dude, watch out for that corner, just air on the side of caution. Today, we're going to get into all of that superstition, Rogi, Juju. We're crossing into the shadow side. I'm Lupita Neongo, and this is Mind Your Own. Let's go home.

When I was in year 7, I was hanging out in our field at school. I'd finished my activities, and I was waiting for the late bus.

Me and my friends were gathered at the edge of the playing field.

We were lying on the ground, we were chatting amongst ourselves, just kicking it.

“And there was a group of boys I think they were like in year 5, running around the field.”

But for some reason, they decided to run in our area. They were running around us, and the one of the boys decided to jump over my legs. Over my legs. And I was like so shocked, because that is such a bad thing to do in my culture. There's a superstitious belief that if you jump over someone's legs, you stand to their growth and you could make them barren.

The way you undo it is the answer to jump over you again.

Come back here, jump over me, how could you do that? He comes and jumps over me, now he's kicking me. You shouldn't be jumping over us, there's a whole field. Go play elsewhere. Me and my friends are having a problem.

“Why are they doing this to us, shame on them?”

They were so irritated, small boys. And then I decided, okay, if he does it again, man, I'm going to have to have a word with him. He does it again. All my projects are falling on deaf ears. I swear God, next time his boy comes my way, I'm going to trip them.

I'm just going to kick my leg up casually the way I have been doing. And trip him. So, you know, I get back into conversation, but now my attention is fully on these boys. I'm pretending to engage in this gossip session by now.

“I am like listening to the bitter part of these boys' feet waiting for them to approach.”

And I lift my foot and it catches his and he falls. Yes, did it. But just as soon as I've rejoiced, I recognize almost like in retrospect that the fall didn't sound right. It was a, and so I'm like, wait, what? I get up.

All my friends get up. We're looking at the boy. He sits up, creeling his hand, and he goes, "Oh!" And he looks down at his arm. I look down at his arm.

And I see that where it's supposed to be brown, there is something white jutting out. And no sooner I've seen that white thing jutting out. Look, look, look of blood. His hand is facing the wrong direction. And then he starts to scream.

I'm about to be in a lot of trouble. I don't know what to do. There is panic all around me.

The teachers have a show up.

In no time, there's an ambulance there. You know, I just wanted him to trip and maybe you have a little graze on his elbow. That's it. You know, a little woops. I didn't want him to, like, I don't want him to end up in hospital.

He's put on a stretcher, and he's carried away. The teachers that left behind are trying to figure out what happened. And I feel like everybody knows that I did it on purpose. I'm hearing the boys that were running around. They're telling the teachers, "Oh, we were playing, we were playing."

And then he jumped over their legs and tripped. I realized that nobody knew that I had done it intentionally. And so I chose not to say anything.

“I was crying and crying, and I remember like what you just saying.”

Why are you crying so much? You're fine. Can't you see that the boy is hurt? You need to have the sympathy for him. Surely they would find out, surely he would say something. I wanted to find out what hospital he was in.

But then I realized that if I take too much action, they might figure it out. And then I might get expelled. My parents might have to pay the hospital bill. At that point, things were tight financially, and I knew that. He was out of school for a while, maybe a week or two.

We were asked to write him a get well. Student card, and so I signed the card. It was just so short that when he got better and came back to school, he would come for me. When I heard he was back, that day...

“I didn't hear anything might he just said in those first sessions of class, man.”

Because I like to think about what it's like. I'm going to see him. I'm going to run into him at recess. He was going to point a finger at me and yell at the top of his voice. It's her fault, it's her fault, it's her who did it.

It was break time. And very unceremoniously. He just passed me by. He had one hell of a cast on. He saw me, he said, "Hi."

I said, "Hi." And he just went on. It was like he didn't even recognize me.

“He didn't equate me to his accident at all.”

The first I was perplexed, because here I was, and I saw his face every night.

And so to see him, so unburdened by me, was really quite surprising. And then I thought, "Whew." That means I'm really in the clear. I felt relief.

And I just kept the guilt that didn't get suspended. I didn't miss one day of school. And I didn't get socially condemned. If I didn't tell the story, nobody'd know. But I would.

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Welcome back. You're listening to mind your own. At some point or another, we've all had a scheme. Maybe it's a gamble that your sure is going to turn out in your favor. And it does.

And it keeps working for you. It's almost too good to be true.

Well, I can tell you with certainty that you have never heard a scheme quite like this one.

Today on Mind Your Own, we're taking you to Kenya to meet John Kibera, the man who disturbed the dead. I hope you're listening. John Kibera knows a lot about the thief manual. So, you know, a thief is not wise.

A thief's money is spent quickly, runs out quickly.

“When you're a thief, you have to be a hypocrite.”

You have just to pretend that you have no idea what is going on. Since age 11, crime was the only way he knew how to survive. He had been caught several times, served some time and went back to robbing banks and carjacking. One day, it nearly cost him his life. We were at a place called Kalanguari.

We are costed this particular victim as they were driving into the compound. We did not know that the police were laying in wait. Who would be policeman like a ambush.

I had the first gunshot, the second gunshot, and the third gunshot.

And everyone scrambled. We had gone as a squad of six people. The police gun down two of them. John made it out alive, but this was his last time doing armed robbery. He realized he wanted to find a better safer hustle.

“I really sat down and thought, what kind of crime would not bring me trouble with the police?”

What kind of crime would not give me trouble with the public? Attending the burial of one of his friends who was involved in the carjacking was a brutal reminder of why he had to change things up. And at that funeral, he noticed something. In the cemetery, I noticed that the rich were being buried in very expensive coffins. And this is where I go to the idea.

How could I steal these coffins? John imagined it would be like any other heist. You find a buyer? Hold a coffin shop and talk to the owner. Put together a small team of reliable men.

Move them. We had been locked up together. And yes, there was that one grizzly detail of handling dead bodies. But John had a solution for that too. Like three beers and then smoke some weed.

Even these used drugs too to sort of escape what I beat you.

Luckily, John knew a spot that was just ten minutes away from where he lived in Nairobi.

“In January of the year 2000, John Cabera and his band of misfits headed to Longnata cemetery for their first heist.”

Longnata cemetery is divided into three sections. These are sections for barring the very wealthy. These are sections for barring the millionaires. And the last section is for barring the poor. They got there at 2 a.m.

So there were no guards around to watch them sneak into the wealthiest section of the graveyard. They picked a grave at random and shoveled off the top layer of soil. Underneath was a concrete slab. The rich plaster the sides of the grave, and then they put the slab on top. The slab made the work easier because all you needed to do was just put it aside.

“After moving the slab aside, the team saw what they had come for.”

An expensive coffin. They hoisted the coffin out of the hall and set it on the ground. And when they opened it up. Surti Yangi Kunmiakena. He had on a suit, a golden ring, chain, rob shoes.

I was ecstatic. John and his team pulled the body out of the coffin, which was less foul than he thought it would be. The kind of corpse we are talking about is rich person's corpse. It was very well preserved. It was like a sculpture.

“Turns out even in death, the wealthy sleep better than the poor.”

So, together with my team, we removed the suit, we removed the shoes, we removed the jewelry. Then, we dumped the body back, without any of the clothes or jewelry, and without the coffin. They put the slab back so that people would not catch on. We were fulfilling the script, just let's say. "Been Adanguari Kudadunyanibirakitu, Natarudibirakitu, a human being comes naked to the wall.

And they should live naked." And by following him, I had taken the coffin to the businessman who owned the coffin shop,

and he paid me my first 70,000 shillings.

70,000 shillings. That could get you something nice, like a top-of-the-line computer television. And then, John took the chain, suit, and shoes to a second-hand market called Gekwomba, for some extra cash. And from there, I felt business was really good, because now I had found the shop, and my work was now to bring in the coffins.

But John is not even 20 years old at this point, and like a lot of people his age, he went through that cash fast. You know, you ain't a bar, you need a drink, you know, you are a woman comes in, you need a woman. You don't want to embarrass yourself in your own local club. John knew he had a good thing going. He just had to think more strategically.

I used to buy the newspaper every day to read the obituary, and if the obituary was a full page, or half-page, I knew that the disease was coming from a wealthy family. In the obituary, they must it, that the meeting is taking place at 6pm, at least specific place. That's where the meetings to plan the funeral are happening. John and his boys were put on suits to blend in, head to the funeral preparation meeting, and listen.

The bigger the budget of the coffin, the more money they would make when they stole it. Most days I could attend two meetings where people are morning. But they couldn't go to the graveyard until nightfall. So during the day, John and his guys would just hang out. We'll go to Bath.

Like one in Rivaroid, in a hobby, and another in Uthiro.

I love playing pool, so we always would play pool, just waiting for time for us to do our work.

It was our game. One of these nights when they were out at a bar, John met someone special.

We were having fun and enjoying the one-man guitar show.

She used to work in Bath.

“In the course of our conversation and getting to know each other, until the point of getting intimate,”

that's when I told her about what I did. And she understood. She didn't just understand. No, no, no, no. Margaret invited herself into John Caberas team, and she was in 200%.

When the priest or the pastor would be saying it is time to lower the body, Margaret would be there and would really cry a lot. Some of the coffins were not sealed with the nails, but had rocks. And in that crying, you'd take an opportunity to take a photo of the lock, to help us know how to open it later.

The lid was hardcore. John's team grew to have eight people total.

“And over the next year, they would make around 150,000 shillings every time they dug up a coffin”

and sold the valuables. That was enough to buy a brand new car. And John's original hunch was right. This was much safer than holding a person at gunpoint or stealing a car. It was a lot better than armed crime or armed robbery.

The cops wouldn't ask me any questions. It's true. A corpse wouldn't give you the same heat, a living person would. At least, not most of the time. One time, we went to steal from a grave in Yanza Province.

And when we tried to, we all started trembling. And we couldn't do it.

“And this is the first time I started suspecting that corpses could harm evil spirits.”

I only used to hear about it, but I never used to believe it.

OK, stay tuned. We'll have more for you after the break. You're listening to mind your own. The team wasn't even able to get the coffin out of the grave. That's how hard they were trembling.

And over the next few days, John started to see visions of whom he could only assume was that poor soul that he was trying to rob. Now, let's say, "Okay, I'm not going to die." When I went to sleep, I would see this person like literally. I would see this person. And when I felt that this dead body, this corpse was tormenting me, I spoke to an elder and told him what was happening to me.

And he told me that I had to find 50,000 shirings and go back to that community and ask for forgiveness. So I did to free myself from this problem. Well, a restless spirit in an anonymous donation was not enough to stop John from keeping this operation going. Not when the money was so good. Now, I had money.

I built an amazing house, a seven story house in the neighborhood. I bought myself a putty of five or four, which was renowned in the Kenya. I could pay to sleep in a nice hotel. I could visit different parts of the country. I could go to move the bus, the coast.

I was at the peak of my life. And I could also make sure it was like me. And then, lifestyle. Not only was John's wallet happy, but he realized he kind of liked being the boss.

This was the level of security and comfort, John had just never known.

So for each job we did, I had to get more money. I loved it. You're going to find out how many of your patron was the patron. They wouldn't go on any operation without me. It felt good to be the boss who many people depended on.

John Kibera could finally enjoy the little things in life. Like dates with Margaret. She was the first person to just take me somewhere where we could relax like a recreation place. Like, one where there was lots of entertainment with Kikuya musicians who my loved.

I loved her heart. And I respected her. She used to make me feel like a man.

“She really used to encourage me and tell me, you know, "Be strong, love."”

I did this work until it got to a point where the corpse was really nothing to me. We just kept on doing our thing without fearing anything. Which made John and his team more ambitious. They wanted to think bigger and bolder about their heists. Like when they went after the grave of Ibrahim Akasha,

a drug kingpin who operated out of Mombasa. You're with your Akasha?

He was a drag load in a coffin with one point two million shillings.

When he was shot and buried, we got a coffin. After two days, what went round? That Akasha had been exhumed. But no one knew who had done it. They had picked too big a target. News were starting to spread around Nairobi and other parts of Kenya

that people were indeed stealing from graves. But the names and faces were still unknown. John and his associates continued to disturb the dead and tempt fate. Fearless, rich, and a little sloppy. I remember it was a Saturday.

I was at the same place.

We had come to steal a coffin.

At a place called Ithokuri. Everything had been going as planned. They found a grave, dug out the slab. But before they could get the coffin out, a local spotted them.

“I think I got a coffin, but I got a coffin.”

And they started screaming. "Vives!" "Vives!" We ran away and they started chasing us. My four colleagues and I took off. And when you go to Rivasarana, it was everyone for himself.

At least I could swim. I jumped into Rivasarana and I swam for about 500 meters. I got out of the river and honed to the road. John hailed down a vegetable truck that gave him a lift back to town. He rented a hotel room and tried to lay low for the night.

I was lucky to have gotten away. But I kept thinking, what about my colleagues? I was taking tea in the hotel. When I had it announced on the news.

“When I got out of the river, I was thinking, "What's going on?”

These had been banned in Maragua. When they were trying to steal a coffin." Some of John's guys had been caught by angry locals who wanted justice. They were taken to Maragua and executed. As the other hotel guests shook their heads at the news.

John, for his own safety, played along and pretended like he didn't know anything. He knew he had to stay as far removed from this new cycle as possible. Which meant he couldn't even go to their funerals. I did think about it. I would have wanted to.

But the fear that I could go there and, you know, and then the suspicion people would say, "This guy was with them or they used to be together." That fear stopped me.

And this isn't like that gang shootout I got John into grave robbing in the first place.

No. This time, John was the boss. John had spent time with them. John had brought each of them into the fold. "For millions of years, what much do you enjoy in Maragua?"

They had families and I knew their families. I knew their wives. I knew their children. So I was really sad that I had brought them into this kind of tragedy. I was heartbroken.

I felt like I had lost strength. And I got to... Mamca... And I would wake up. And go to a pub.

I would play pool.

It'd be him at night. And then... I would go back home. John and his team Lalo,

not daring to approach another grave.

But after a few months, the money started running out.

“A few of John's men approached him and said...”

When the cooking stick breaks, that is no doubt of cooking. Like you don't stop cooking because the cooking stick has broken. So they said, "Let's get back to work." John agreed to continue the grave robbing spree.

After all, it was the only source of income, not just for himself, but for this old team. And they'd all gotten used to that London lifestyle. But before he could plan another heist, he had to tell a certain someone that it just wasn't worth the risk anymore.

That person was Margaret.

I couldn't have been that busy. I mean, she loved the whack. But you know, when I looked and saw that trouble was starting to grow up, I felt, no. There is no point for both of us today.

“And that is why I asked her to step aside from this.”

After a long and difficult argument, John agreed to give some of his earnings to Margaret, so that she could step out of the coffin stealing game and start a business of her own. You do this and let me hassle.

That marked the last time he and Margaret ever spoke. And John kept hustling, kept unearthing coffins, and kept tempting fate.

It was boxing day of 2004. We were at Langarta cemetery. And we had diabetes, particular grave, and we had taken the coffin out. But that was supposed to come and collect the coffin or the late.

You cannot carry the coffin on your back. You cannot put it on a motorbike. Daylight was approaching and the team did not have enough time to put the coffin back where it came from. John knew that if they got caught with this coffin,

it would be Maragua all over again. In a snap decision, he resorted to a skill he had swan off what felt like a lifetime ago. Day jack. Cod jacking.

And the first van they saw wasn't just any van.

A van belonging to the nation media group. Probably the largest multimedia production company in all of East and Central Africa.

“I switched off the van and grabbed a key.”

Meanwhile, one of my teammates pulled the driver out of the van. The team left the newspaper employee on the ground and went back to the cemetery. When we go to the cemetery, the coffin could feed because there was still newspapers in the back of the van.

So I quickly got into the back of the van. I removed all the newspapers. I dumped them on the ground. And they handed me the coffin. After John pulled the coffin into the back of the van with him,

his teammates closed the door and locked it from the outside. There were no windows, no screens to see the road or the driver's seat. So all John could really see was this golden coffin that they planned to sell. He heard his teammates get in the front and felt the van start moving. Now, longata cemetery is very close to Nairobi Central Business District

like 10 minutes stops. Surely they could get there, sell the coffin and ditch the vehicle. At least, that was the plan. John was sitting in the back of the van in the dark when he heard "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!"

That's when the shooting started. John was thrown against the wall as the van swerved and then came to a switching pot. He desperately tried to find shelter, as bullets punched holes through the van's walls. The van was like a sieve.

With the doors locked from the outside John had nowhere to go, but daylight was bleeding through those bullet holes and it was shining a light on his one saving grace.

slid inside of it, and closed it shut.

Sorry, if you were to say, Kasimama.

“After about three minutes of gunshot, there was silence.”

My colleagues from the number of gunshots, I would not expect they had survived. So I knew. They were dead. John lay silent and sweltering in the heat,

but he could hear voices approaching. Police. I heard the door of the van being open. Someone must have reported the car jacking. Police discovered that there was a golden coffin in the back,

and they wandered what it was for. One of the police officers was asked to check what it was for. I lay completely still. I stiffened my body,

and opened my eyes wide and fixed them.

In that panic, I cut off a piece of cotton wool from the side of the coffin, and I put it in my mouth so I would look truly dead. And I just prayed for God to save me in the way he could.

“When the police officer opened the coffin,”

we saw each other face to face. My eyes were wide open. But they were fixed. Trying to put on the look of a dead person. I played dead as best as I could.

The officer slammed the coffin shut. He got out of the van, and told the other officers that there was a corpse inside the coffin, and it was sweating. I could hear them discussing among themselves what to do.

They agreed that the cops need to be taken to the city of Moachari.

So they agreed that they would carry the coffin

and put it in the police land Rover. So, six of the officers lifted the coffin and they were carrying it on the Tama Kofkinad Avenue. That's when my heart told me, "Don't be slow."

So, just as they were about to put it in the land Rover, they had to put the coffin on the wall. I smacked the coffin loudly. The moment I hit the coffin, their police officers dropped it.

I jumped out. And I saw a crowd of people. Everyone ran away. Seeing an evil spirit had been seen in the ropes. People were running,

jumping into their vehicles, and trying to get away.

“Remember, there were three other corpses”

and the no one knew which one would get up next. I led the act. What is happening? And I'm the one who once said, "Can't you see your corpse is running?"

Amidst the chaos, John took off. He knew that the police would not treat him any more kindly than they had treated the three corpses in the van. And I just felt, "Taymo's up for this kind of work."

I heard of me, I saw Kamakonji police station. I ran there and talked to the OCS. The office I charge. I turned myself in. And I said,

"I was the one in the coffin on Kanyata Avenue." They took me to Makadara court, where I was charged with exhuming dead bodies. That is when the police put my name in the newspaper. John served six months in prison.

After he got out, he tried to move back home to Kanyata. But he wasn't just John Kibera anymore. He was John Kibera, Kenya's most notorious grave robber.

He found out that the papers and tabloids had been spreading his story all over town. Aman, who made the killing from digging up the dead. And that reputation followed him everywhere he went. So at the end of the case, Kizza couldn't be in the coffin. What do I do?

When someone hears that you deal with corpses, they definitely fear you. This kind of crime is one of a kind, worldwide. If I walked into a bar,

someone would see me and recognize me, and they would panic. If I interacted with ladies, they didn't want to associate with me. They were really scared of me.

You say, "What's the need for me?" I need a new place. A new place is where people couldn't recognize me. I give away my house to a school for orphans.

As for the Kashmani, I donated it to the young adult women's prison. But the young kids sent supplies.

After that,

John basically just attended church,

“did some volunteering, and kept it low key.”

Maybe he thought he might be able to live a normal life now. Maybe his past was finally behind him, which could leave him room to build a future with someone. I met this girl in 2005.

She was a nasha in a church that I used to go to. I was waiting for him to be in 2007. But on the wedding day, the father of the bride came with a newspaper. Showing me the crimino.

Yeah, Kashmani, how is it going to be? He said he can not allow his daughter to marry a crimino. So, he took her away.

He took her away. He took her away. He took her away. He took her away.

“When she was still in her wedding dress,”

they got into the car, and they left. John Rivera,

thank you so much for telling us your story.

These days, John is a preacher in Nairobi, as well as a motivational speaker, telling kids that crime does not pay.

For more about John, check out our show notes. And thank you for listening. It's been good to have you. I've really enjoyed going with you, too.

Longata Cemetery. In the middle of the night, we looked left, then we looked right. The coast was clear.

And do it wasn't. Time to play dead.

“We'll see you the next time you mind your own.”

Until then,

here's a song from the continent.

OTT by Rouge. Everything is OTT. Everything is OTT. Everything is OTT. Everything is OTT.

Everything is OTT. Everything is OTT. Everything is OTT. OTT. Mind your own is hosted and produced by me, Lupita Nyongol.

This is a production of SNAP Studios at KQED, with sales and distribution by Lemonada Media. The executive producers are Glenn Washington and Mark Ristich. Our managing editor is Regina Bediako. Our director of production is Marissa Dodge.

Original music in my story come up and was by Clay Xavier. The story graveyard shit was produced by David Exime. Translation by Salomon Duku. Voice over by Dungi Gidoku. Original music by Laline Sanjust and Sam Law.

Special thanks to our fixer, Michael Kaloki. Our mind your own producers are David Exime and Priscilla Alabi. Our story scouts are Ashley Okosa, Fiona Nyongol, Jessica Karisa, and Lecidi Oluko Moche. Our editors are Nancy Lopez and Anna Susman.

Our story consultant is John Fassil. Engineering by Miles Lassie. A music supervisor is Sandra Lawson Ndu. Also known as Sandu Ndu. She also created the mind your own theme song with peach curls.

Featuring vocals from a heroine. Graphic design by Jemima Ekke. Original artwork by Matteo Sittole. Special thanks to Alan Koy, Jake Kleinberg. Samar is still Sarah Yu, Warner Music Group and Afra Pods.

Make sure to follow Mind your own and listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music or wherever you get your podcasts. There's even more to love with Lemmonauta Premium. Subscribers get exclusive access to bonus content from across the network for only 4.99 a month. Subscribe now on Apple Podcasts.

Now go out. Get together. And mind your own bodies. Thank you for tuning in to Mind your own Spooksters.

Big love and thanks as well to our partners.

Lemmonauta Media. The Afra Pods.

“Warner Music Group snaps home station of KQD.”

Normalizing. C.A. Josh Lindgren.

All of team snap and to each and every person who put love into this show.

“There is so much more where this came from.”

Stories to make you laugh, make you cry and let you look at the world through someone else's eyes.

Listen and enjoy Mind your own on any podcast platform.