I Loaned My Husband Our Ksh240K Chama Money & Lost Our Land in the End

My name is Ann Mbulu. I am a primary school teacher in Machakos, and for the last four years, I have also been the treasurer of our chama.

We are 24 women. Teachers, small business owners, a salonist, and a shopkeeper. Ordinary women who understand one thing very well: money is hard to come by, so when you have it, you must protect it.

Apart from our normal merry-go-round, we decided to start a Christmas savings kitty. Every member contributed Ksh1,000 every month. Nothing dramatic. Just discipline.

Also read: Chama Revolution: What Successful Chamas Know & Do, Why Many Fail

By October 2024, the maths was simple; we had saved Ksh240,000.

For once, December was not going to find us panicking. We had plans. Food, clothes for the kids, and travel. Some women wanted to add stock to their business. As the treasurer, I felt proud. 

Then November came.

One evening, my husband sat next to me after supper and said, almost casually, “Baby, I need a favour.”

He told me about a tender opportunity in Nairobi. A sure deal. He just needed capital to secure it. The money would be paid back before Christmas. With profit.

I told him the money was chama money. He waved it off. “Aren’t you guys saving for Christmas? I’ll return it early December.”

 I convinced myself it would be okay. After all, he was my husband. I released the Ksh240,000. That is the moment my life split into two. He was either unavailable or I would be blue-ticked on WhatsApp.

Also Read: 7 Good Reasons to Join a Chama 

When I finally reached him, his tone had changed. “The tender collapsed. Give me more time.”

The women in the chama started calling me, friendly at first, then increasingly worried. They needed their cash to shop.

"Ann, I need to buy my children’s school uniforms before the prices shoot up," one member pleaded. 

Christmas was one week away.

Out of panic, shame, and fear, I did something I had always warned others against. I went to a shylock.

He was polite at first. Calculated fast and said, “I’ll give you Ksh240,000. In three months, you return Ksh320,000.”

Ksh80,000 interest.  In my head, I told myself that I had found a solution.

I paid back the chama before Christmas. Smiled. Attended the party. Even served as usual.

But January came with its full weight. By March, I had nothing to show, and the shylock stopped being polite. The shylock started making threatening calls. One day, he showed up at my gate. I was cornered. I couldn't risk my kids and neighbours seeing our belongings carried away.

Also read: How We Got Scammed Our Life Savings Through Chamas - (5 Victims Tell Their Story)

To save face and survive, I sold the 50 by 100 ft piece of land in Athi River for Ksh350,000. I had bought slowly with the dream of building some rentals to earn extra income. It wasn’t enough, but it stopped the threats.

It’s 2025 now, and I’m rebuilding. My husband is out of my life; we separated, and honestly, the relief of his absence is palpable

Today, I am rebuilding. Slowly. From zero.

Looking back, the money lesson is painful but clear. Money that belongs to others has no business being mixed with trust, love, or promises. Not even marriage.

I also learned that desperation makes even disciplined people break their own rules. One wrong decision, made in fear, can wipe out years of effort.

My biggest lesson wasn’t just about trust; it was about financial boundaries and accountability.