My Client Forced Me to Cook and Eat Human Flesh: Ann Wanjiru Recounts Horror Experience
Imagine life pushing you to the edge, where survival becomes a battle and choices are stripped away. In a raw, emotional interview, 25-year-old Ann Wanjiru shared her story, not seeking sympathy, but to unburden herself from the weight she has carried for years.
With a voice cracked by sorrow and weighed down by regret, Ann, who was born in Nairobi's Dandora area, revealed a dark chapter of her life—a story of prostitution, trauma, and survival that few would dare to speak aloud.
Speaking on Citizen TV’s Shajara Na Lulu show, Ann began her story by recounting a traumatic incident, where her 23-year-old boyfriend, whom she met while she was 16 years old, was shot near Pangani Police Station for allegedly stealing a phone while she was seven months pregnant.
The boyfriend had lied to her that he worked as a matatu conductor, but she would later, after the shooting incident, find out that he was a thug. That moment marked the beginning of a long and painful spiral.
After the shooting, the mother of her child’s father took her in along with the baby for two months, but eventually said she couldn’t manage anymore. Ann returned home when her baby was only two months old. She took up the same job her mother was doing then, but after three months, life became unbearable again.
One day, she bumped into an old friend headed to town. Curious, she asked what job the friend did. The friend introduced her to club work. "I sell myself here," the friend said. Desperate and without options, Ann went along. That very night, a client liked her and she earned some money. She went back home, convincing herself she had found a temporary solution.
Her baby was just four months old when she had to stop breastfeeding. It was painful, but necessary.
She returned to the club scene. On one night, she met a client around 1 a.m., went to a room with him, and then went back to the club. She got home at 4 a.m., exhausted, holding a few shillings. That week, she wrestled with guilt. Her mother had no idea what her daughter had become.
Ann continued in prostitution for a year. “The job is hard,” she said.
There were rare nights of relief. She recalled an Indian man who had just landed in Kenya. He sent a hotel security guard to get him a call girl and she was picked up. After spending the night with the foreigner she was paid KSh.30,000, the most she had ever received.
“Even in this line of work, we still pray,” she said quietly.
But most nights weren’t so lucky. On average, she says she earned between Ksh.4,000 and KSh 7,000. The money never matched the pain.
Eventually, Ann met a man from her neighbourhood. They fell in love. She became pregnant again. But the relationship became a source of torment. It pushed her to the edge, to the point of considering suicide.
One tragic day, she was robbed by a client, phone gone, and money stolen. That same day at around 1 a.m., a man approached her outside the club. He asked her how much she charged. When she answered, he said it was too little and offered to pay more. They went to his house in South B.
This final encounter was something out of a nightmare.
She asked for a glass of water, he gave it to her. But after drinking it, she felt dizzy.
“I was given a glass of water, and after drinking, I immediately started feeling dizzy,” Ann recalled.
What happened next was the breaking point. The man asked her to cook. When she opened the fridge to find ingredients, she was horrified to discover a human leg, cleanly cut and packed. A child’s leg.
“Whatever you see, don’t be alarmed. Just cook,” Ann recalls being told.
Paralyzed with fear, she obeyed. She boiled the meat, but it refused to soften.
“Human meat doesn’t cook… it just foams,” she said.
He instructed her not to use salt. She boiled the meat, but it remained tough. She cooked ugali as instructed by the man and served him.
Then came the moment she’ll never forget. He told her, “We are eating this meat together. Taste it first, how will I know you haven’t bewitched me?”
She resisted, but he strangled her until she passed out. When she regained consciousness, he was staring at her. She had no choice but to eat it.
“Human meat is tough. It just doesn’t chew,” she repeated. She swallowed it despite feeling like vomiting.
Afterwards, he told her to eat another piece. She did. Then he began eating his portion. As morning approached, he finally told her she could leave. Her body felt weak. The man refused to pay the agreed Ksh.15,000 but gave her Ksh.3,000 out of pity.
“I don’t even remember how I got there. I don’t know what he put in the water. I was sick for a month,” she said.
At the hospital, doctors confirmed she had been drugged, which is why she had no memory of events.
“Since then, I’m terrified. I ate a child,” she confessed.
Doctors later confirmed she had been drugged. The memory loss made sense. But the emotional scars? Those would take a lifetime.
“Since then… I’ve been scared. I ate a child.”
“I never told my mother. She knows now. But I want to say… Mama, forgive me. It wasn’t my choice. Life hardships pushed me to the edge since I had you, my child, and basic needs in the house to provide,” she concluded.
Following the gut-wrenching experience, Ann left the streets and now depends on friends and well-wishers to take care of her two young children.
Ann Wanjiru’s story is a piercing testament to the hidden battles many women fight. It is uncomfortable, gut-wrenching, and deeply human. Beneath the layers of pain is a plea, not just for forgiveness, but for understanding. For grace. For the world to see women like her not as what they’ve done, but what they’ve endured.
