I still feel depressed when I think about how far I could have been

In 2009, I was working in a bank in Thika. I had been promoted too and I was getting attractive allowances. The promotion couldn’t have come at a better time; my eldest daughter had just left her marriage and come back home with a six-month- old baby, and my husband had quit his job. I was now the sole breadwinner.

I had requested to go on leave in April, which would have perfectly coincided with my children’s school holidays. But for some strange reason, the acting manager insisted that I had to go on leave in March. I went on leave and on coming back, I was surprised that he and another key employee had also gone on leave. The Thika branch was a small one with a skeleton staff, so it was odd to have several key employees on leave at the same time.

On my first weekend back to work, I had planned on attending the burial of a colleague but the acting manager insisted that I had to be at work. Although I was usually in the administrative department, I found myself having to handle the duties of a teller- something I’d never done before. I realised that one of the employees was constantly calling the acting manager, which seemed weird to me. If he was on leave, why was he still working via phone? Another employee was unnecessarily rude to me and when I threatened to report him, he just shrugged and said, “utajua hujui”, hinting there was nothing I could do.

We received a request from another bank to loan them Sh10 million for their ATM machine. As we had Sh 18 million at hand, this was something we could easily manage. But the acting manager resisted the move and after many calls, he finally authorised lending only four million shillings. Later in the day, I noticed the same colleague who had been rude to me come out with a loaded backpack. In hindsight, these little things should have warned me that something fishy was happening behind my back.

I was indoors from Saturday to Tuesday, as it was Easter weekend and I had no other plans. On Tuesday, we found out that all the money we had left in the cash box had mysteriously disappeared. A colleague- who served as a teller- and I were immediately apprehended and taken to the Thika Police Station.

I was shocked and confused. I went back over the weekend’s events and connected the dots. But I had no proof. Later, the bank’s custodian was also arrested. We were held in the police cells for four days before being released on bond.

In June 2009, we were rearrested by the Anti-Banking Fraud Unit and taken to a remand prison. It was an over-crowded dirty room. There was barely any room to sleep on the beds. We were so packed that if you wanted to turn you had to alert the others so you could turn in unison. Then the lice and bedbugs! I still bear permanent scars on my arms. I remember wishing that I’d actually stolen the money. At least the suffering could make sense.

Suicidal

On being released five days later, I was so depressed that I almost committed suicide. I had handful of pills when my son suddenly walked into the room, which thwarted my plans. I started thinking of how my children would suffer if I died, and decided that suicide wasn’t the answer. Determined to make the best of the situation, I started cooking and selling Swahili snacks.

Things were just starting to look up for me when the court sentenced me to three years in prison. One of my colleagues, the teller, was also given a similar sentence while the other was found innocent by the court.

After two years, we pardoned by the President. I came out to find that both my parents had got seriously ill. My dad was suffering from Alzheimer’s and his memory was all gone. My mother passed on a year later in 2014. The small business I had started had collapsed and the money I had been paid by the bank was all gone.

I found stigma to be one of the biggest challenges when one is transitioning back to life after doing time. I applied for jobs in vain. A friend asked me to help in her shop but never paid me. I learned that she had cautioned the other employee not to trust me with money as I was a thief. Many people, even some close family members, believed that I was guilty.

In 2015, I started cooking and selling food again. Later that year, my daughter gave me some money to set up my restaurant, Fatso’s Authentic Swahili Dishes, which is located just opposite the Catholic University of Eastern Africa.

The business keeps me going, even though sometimes I still feel depressed when I think about where I could have been. I recently learned that a former colleague was paid almost 30 million shillings for his service to the bank. We had started working at around the same time, so if I hadn’t been framed, I’d have received a handsome payment for my service. Through Clean Start Kenya, I manage programmes to help women and girls to have an easier time transitioning back to society.