How a hidden camera destroyed a mother's life
Fatimata*, a mother of two, is a survivor of online gender-based violence. She shares her story during an interview.
What you need to know:
- A Kisumu sex worker’s life unravels after a secretly recorded video circulates widely on social media platforms.
- Non-consensual filming exposes the mother of three, highlighting digital gender-based violence and weak law enforcement responses.
On the morning of November 8, 2025, Fatimata* received a phone call that would change everything. A friend, her voice trembling, asked what she had done to herself. Fatimata was confused. Then came the instruction: check your WhatsApp immediately.
What she found stopped her cold. A video of herself, recorded without her knowledge the previous day, was already circulating on Facebook and WhatsApp. Her face was visible. Her voice was audible. Her place of work was fully exposed. The video had been titled Umalaya Kisumu (Prostitution in Kisumu).
For the first time in her 17 years working as a sex worker in Kisumu, the stigma was no longer whispered in alleyways. It had been broadcast to the world.
How it happened
The day before, on November 7, 2025, a middle-aged man had approached Fatimata in her usual workplace, presenting himself as a client. They stepped away from the others and negotiated a price. He agreed.
As she opened the door to usher him in, the man suddenly claimed he was looking for someone else. The conversation had begun in Dholuo, but he kept insisting she speak in Swahili instead. “I told him I couldn't express myself well in Swahili," she says.
The exchange grew increasingly strange. He neither identified who he was looking for nor asked for directions. It was going nowhere. “Eventually, I left him and went back to the lobby to wait for another client,” Fatimata says.
Read: Betrayal, filming, blackmail: How trusted relationships become gateways to online sexual abuse
Only later did she piece together what had happened. The man had been recording the entire time. He was carrying two phones, one in his hand and another tucked in his shirt pocket. “I never imagined he was filming me,” she said.
Nation reviewed the video strictly for verification and authenticity. It was uploaded to Facebook under an account named Creative Channel. It opens with the content creator urging viewers to follow his page, then announcing his intention to “expose” a building he claims is frequented by sex workers. He films himself approaching the premises, warning viewers that the women might grab his phone. He then records three women standing outside, singles out Fatimata, follows her into the building, and continues filming.
He negotiates a price, insists on talking outside the room, then abruptly announces he must see someone else and leaves. Throughout the footage, he frames the interaction as investigative journalism, while exposing Fatimata's identity without her consent.
‘My children have been mocked online’
Fatimata traced the account to Facebook and, after messaging a user in the comments section, she was given a name and a location. The man was known as Collins, or “Collo”. Following public pressure, the original video was eventually taken down. But by then it had already spread far beyond the original post. “People downloaded it. It was shared everywhere, WhatsApp, Facebook, different platforms,” she says.
The consequences for Fatimata, a mother of three, have been devastating. Her neighbours have turned on her. Her children have been mocked online. She now leaves home early and returns late to avoid people. Her income has collapsed. “My reputation is completely destroyed,” she says.
A case going nowhere
On November 8, 2025, she reported the incident at the Kondele Police Station, where it was recorded under OB No. 44/21/10/2025. When she followed up a week later, she was told the case had been referred to the Directorate of Criminal Investigations (DCI). She was also asked to surrender her phone for forensic analysis in Nairobi. “I didn't understand why my phone, the victim's phone, had to be taken to Nairobi,” she notes.
On a later visit, she says officers told her she would need Sh10,000 to facilitate the cybercrime investigation. “I didn't have that money, so I left the police station and never returned,” Fatimata explains.
She later sought help from a leader handling gender-based violence at the Kisumu Sex Workers Alliance. Nation reached out to that leader, who said the matter was sensitive and could not be discussed on the phone, and promised to make contact for a physical meeting.
Kondele Officer Commanding Station Daniel Ogechi confirmed to Nation that the case had been transferred to the DCI and that the victim's phone was needed for forensic analysis to verify the video. On the reported request for Sh10,000, he said he could not confirm the claim but acknowledged that costs were involved in sending the phone to Nairobi.
When Nation searched for Creative Channel on Facebook, the original account had been removed. Several accounts with similar names remain active, one focused on solar energy and electronics, another on science, technology and engineering. Nation did not find the original video on any of these pages. Attempts to reach “Collo” through contact details provided by Fatimata were unsuccessful. The mobile number was no longer in service.
Fatimata entered sex work in 2008 after leaving a marriage marked by emotional and physical abuse. She and her husband already had three children by then. After the separation, she worked washing bed sheets at a guest house but struggled to meet her family's basic needs. A friend later introduced her to sex work.
She subsequently entered another relationship, but that too ended badly. “We had a disagreement, and he chose to humiliate me in front of my children because of the work I used to do before we got engaged,” she said.
Today, she is still looking for justice, and not only for herself. “This has broken me. But I don't want another woman to go through what I am going through. If I can even get a pro bono lawyer to help me argue the case, I'll really appreciate it,” she said.
‘Crime is complete the moment content is shared’
Brenda Yambo, a legal counsel at the Federation of Women Lawyers (Fida-Kenya), is unequivocal: what happened to Fatimata constitutes digital gender-based violence under Kenyan law. “Non-consensual recording and publication violate the Constitution's protections on dignity and privacy, regardless of a person's occupation,” she says.
Brenda points to three specific legal frameworks that apply. The Computer Misuse and Cybercrimes Act of 2018 criminalises the recording or publication of intimate or private content without consent, and the offence is complete the moment the content is shared, even if it is later deleted. The Constitution of Kenya (2010) guarantees dignity and privacy to all persons. The Data Protection Act of 2019 prohibits the unlawful processing and dissemination of personal data, including videos and voice recordings.
“Occupation does not remove these protections. Sex workers are entitled to the same rights to dignity, privacy, and equal protection under the law,” Brenda says.
She is equally clear that deletion does not end the matter. “Digital content is easily copied, downloaded, and redistributed. The law recognises this, but enforcement has not caught up with the realities of digital harm,” she said.
Despite the legal clarity, Brenda says survivors consistently run into walls when they try to report such cases. Many police stations lack the technical expertise, equipment, or clear protocols for digital offences. When the victim is a sex worker or another marginalised woman, stigma compounds the problem.
Read: ‘Women’s bodies are the battlefield’: Survivors recount digital misogyny during femicide protests
“There is often an unspoken judgment that undermines urgency and seriousness. Victims are subtly blamed or treated as less deserving of protection,” she said.
Survivors also frequently face what Brenda calls secondary victimisation, where the process of reporting itself becomes traumatic. “Instead of protection, survivors face suspicion, repeated questioning, and procedural delays, while the perpetrator remains free,” she said.
Fida-Kenya, she adds, is available to provide legal advice, representation, and psychosocial support to survivors in such cases.
Fatimata is still waiting. The man who filmed her without consent, broadcast her identity to the world, and upended her life and her children's lives has not been held to account. The phone that could help trace him has not been submitted. The case file sits with the DCI. And every day, she leaves home early and returns late, hoping her neighbours will not see her.
*Name changed to protect the mother's identity.
