Audio By Vocalize
On any given evening in Kisii, prayer is not unusual. It happens in homes, in churches, and even at roadside kiosks where life pauses for a moment and voices rise in song.
Faith here is not just belief, it is survival, hope and community.So when a soft-spoken foreigner appeared in town, Bible in hand, voice soaked in hymn and promise, few saw danger. They saw a man of God. They saw answers.
But behind the prayers, investigators now say, may have lurked something far more sinister, a carefully crafted deception that has left not only women shattered, but the church itself hanging on the cross of betrayal.
For weeks now, Kisii has been gripped by a scandal that reads like fiction, but feels painfully real. A foreign man, identified by locals as “Collins” or “Collo”, is alleged to have preyed on more than 100 women under the guise of offering prayers and spiritual guidance.
His base? Not a church, but an Airbnb. According to reports circulating online and corroborated by residents, Collo would invite women, many of them married, for what he described as overnight prayer sessions.
He promised breakthroughs, healing and even a chance at a better life abroad.For some, he dangled the ultimate dream: relocation to the United States.And they came. They came with faith. They came with hope. They came trusting a man who spoke like a preacher. But what awaited them behind those closed doors, according to disturbing claims now rocking the town, was not deliverance but exploitation.
In Menyinkwa, a bustling satellite centre of Kisii Town now at the centre of the storm, Collo was a familiar face.Not in church pews, but in markets, roadside kiosks and social joints. He prayed with people, sang with them and blended in effortlessly. “He could pray for us, he could sing with us,” said a woman identified as Nyaboke, who has since come out publicly to distance herself from the unfolding scandal. “Please don’t spoil my marriag. I only knew him as a pastor.”
Prayer exploited
Her plea captures the confusion gripping many. Because Collo did not look like a threat. He looked like a servant of God.
Experts say, that is how such manipulation works. A convincing voice. A Bible. A calm presence. A hint of prophecy. It is not just preaching; it is performance. And for those searching for answers, the act can be irresistible.
According to allegations now under police scrutiny, the so-called prayer sessions often took a disturbing turn. Women who walked in expecting spiritual intervention reportedly found themselves in compromising situations, some allegedly recorded without their consent.
Even more chilling are claims that the man later leaked these videos online, leaving behind a trail of shame and broken lives.For some, he allegedly handed out a small “token”, just five dollars. Not payment, but perhaps a calculated move to blur boundaries, confuse victims and silence questions.
In one widely circulated clip, a rented room appears set up like a casual hangout, complete with a table and a bottle of whisky. The setting feels less like a place of prayer and more like something else entirely. A far cry from the altar. “It’s shocking,” said Richard Okero, a resident of Menyinkwa. “I used to see him all over town, but I could not imagine he could be doing such things.”
Others are questioning whether he was ever a pastor at all. “They say he is a pastor, but I have never seen him in any church,” said Elizabeth Kemunto, a roadside hawker.
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That contradiction lies at the heart of the scandal. If he was not a recognised preacher, how did he gain so much trust?
In deeply religious communities, the title “man of God” carries immense weight. It commands respect, lowers suspicion and opens doors. For a skilled manipulator, it can become the perfect disguise.
Individuals often position themselves as spiritual authorities, people who hear from God and see what others cannot. To question them feels like questioning faith itself.Red flags are ignored, boundaries blur, and by the time doubt creeps in, it is often too late.
One of the most unsettling aspects of the Kisii saga is the profile of the alleged victims.
Many are said to be married women, women with families, businesses and reputations, who on the surface appeared grounded.But beneath that surface, sources suggest, were private emotional, spiritual or personal struggles that drove them to seek something more.
Faith manipulated
Something deeper. And in that search, they may have encountered a man who knew exactly what to say.
For many Kenyans, the story feels uncomfortably familiar. Over the years, cases of fake pastors promising miracles, money or healing have surfaced across the country.Some demand cash; others demand loyalty. A few, disturbingly, demand far more personal “sacrifices”.
What makes the Kisii case stand out is its scale, and its brazenness. An Airbnb instead of a church, promises of visas instead of miracles, and a digital trail that has turned a private ordeal into a public spectacle.
Beyond the scandal lies a deeper wound. Every such incident does not only harm individuals; it chips away at the credibility of the church itself.
Genuine pastors now find themselves under suspicion, congregants are questioning leadership, and trust continues to erode. As one local preacher quietly admitted, “When one man misuses the pulpit, we all pay the price.”
Authorities have since taken notice. Kisii County Police Commander Ronald Kirui confirmed that investigations are underway to trace the origins of the videos and identify those involved. “We shall issue a report concerning the matter in due course,” he said. For now, the man at the centre of the storm remains elusive. But the damage he is alleged to have caused is already widespread.
As Kisii grapples with the fallout, one question lingers: how did it come to this? How did prayer become a doorway to pain, and how did a man with no known church command such belief?
Perhaps the answer lies in a difficult truth many are now forced to confront, that faith, powerful as it is, can also be exploited. And when it is, the consequences cut deeper than scandal. They strike at identity and trust.
In churches across the country, the cross stands as a symbol of sacrifice, truth and redemption, but when a man hides behind it to deceive, manipulate and allegedly exploit, something sacred becomes distorted.
