When the story of Purity Kendi – the Meru mother of seven whose explicit images went viral – broke, it shook parents and communities alike. Many wondered how she could have fallen into such a trap.
However, beneath the judgment lies a deeper truth: digital vulnerability knows no age, gender, or status.
Digital experts say in a world where smartphones connect us to both comfort and danger, sextortion, the act of coercing someone into sharing intimate content and then using it for blackmail, has become a silent epidemic.
“It’s happening in Kenya’s cities, villages, and homes,” says Naftali Mwadime, a digital expert.
He says, parents, children, teachers, and even professionals are being drawn into emotional or financial traps by people who weaponise trust, and while technology offers convenience, it also demands caution.
This observation is a reality for many.
In a quiet village in Meru County, whispers spread faster than rain on iron sheets.
A woman’s name, once spoken with respect, now lingered in low tones, tinged with pity and disbelief.
Screens glowed with her image, shared and reshared by strangers.
However, behind the scandal, behind the viral noise, was a mother, broken, terrified, and asking only for one thing: forgiveness.
“I just wanted someone to talk to,” says Purity, 48. “He made me feel seen… understood. I didn’t know it would end like this.”
It began innocently, as most modern tragedies do.
In a Facebook inbox, he painted pictures of a shared future, a possible marriage, a home, and stability for her children. For Purity, whose small tailoring business had been struggling, his promises sounded like a rescue.
The newfound “suitor” purportedly even sent her Sh20,000 cash at the onset to prove how serious he was about the relationship.
However, soon, affection turned to manipulation, she says, after she sent him private videos, at his urging, framed as proof of trust. Suddenly, the tone of his messages shifted.
The sweetness soured into threats and extortion. By the time she realised she was dealing with a predator, it was too late. The clips surfaced online, spreading through WhatsApp groups and social media. Overnight, Purity’s world collapsed.
She started locking herself in the house because people whispered whenever she appeared in public.
A digital trap, a human heart
Cyber-harassment experts say Purity’s story mirrors a growing pattern in Kenya, sextortion, a form of digital blackmail where victims are coerced into sharing intimate content and later threatened or exposed.
Jane Wangari, a criminal lawyer, says that according to the Computer Misuse and Cybercrimes Act (2018), sharing intimate images without consent is a criminal offense. Yet, enforcement remains slow, and victims like Mary often face not just legal hurdles but deep emotional wounds.
She says behind every leaked image is a real person, a parent, a daughter, a colleague, carrying shame that is not theirs.
“Victims are often manipulated through affection and isolation, and the shame that follows can be crippling, especially for women who fear community judgment more than the law.”
For many victims, she explains, help comes too late, or not at all. Some delete their social accounts; others disappear into silence, although the pain lingers, and so do the questions.
Why are so many people falling prey to online scams? What does this say about emotional loneliness in the digital age?
Leah Mwaniki, a psychologist, says the lure of online companionship often masks deeper struggles.
Prof Rebecca Wambua, a lecturer, counsellor and author of: The Hows – An essential guide for parents and teachers in helping children maximise their God-given potential, says loneliness is not just for teenagers, young adults and Gen Zs. She explains that adults can be emotionally starved, and in that hunger, they lower their guard online.
Purity’s children, notes the Professor, were the silent casualties of this incident. digital trap.
“Children absorb shame by osmosis, and when a parent is ridiculed publicly, children internalise it, even when they don’t understand the details.”
In Purity’s case, says the author, rebuilding her children’s confidence will be the hardest part. She will need to keep reminding them that “Mum made a mistake, but I’m still your mother. We’ll stand again.”
Purity’s ordeal reflects a larger Kenyan paradox: while internet access is expanding, digital literacy and emotional safety lag behind. Many are online daily, posting, chatting, transacting, yet unaware of the predators hiding behind friendly avatars.
In the rush to connect, few pause to question digital intimacy or boundaries. As Prof Wambua puts it, “We teach children to cross roads safely, but we rarely teach adults to cross the digital street with care.”
Gender experts argue that the intersection of poverty, emotional vulnerability, and online grooming creates fertile ground for exploitation.
“Predators target those who seek validation or economic relief,” explains Lydia Nanjala, a digital rights advocate. “It’s not foolishness; it’s emotional engineering. And it can happen to anyone, teacher, businesswoman, pastor’s wife.”
Today, Purity is slowly rebuilding her life. With support from a local women’s group, she has reopened her tailoring shop. She attends counselling sessions through a county initiative that partners with Usikimye to support victims of gender-based digital abuse.
“She is learning to forgive herself; she didn’t deserve what happened, and she can’t stay silent – maybe another woman will learn from her story and be careful”, says Prof Wambua.
Her courage to speak is part of a larger healing journey. She has also joined an online support group for women who have survived cyber harassment. “Silence protects predators, but when survivors speak, even anonymously, they reclaim power,” says Lydia.
Purity’s story forces people to rethink how they navigate connection in a world where trust and technology coexist uneasily.
Digital trust must be earned, not assumed.
Love online should never require proof through exposure. Forgiveness is not weakness; it is recovery.
For parents, the lesson is double-edged: to protect children from online predators while guarding themselves from emotional scams. In both cases, awareness, openness, and conversation remain the best armour.