Spooked - The Shadow Side from Mind Your Own

Episode Date: March 24, 2026

The dead man does not know the value of his coffin.  This episode comes to us from Mind Your Own! Mind Your Own is a storytelling podcast navigating what it means to belong, all from the African perspective. Join Lupita as she shares tales of her own and dives into the lives of real people finding their way in new worlds of every kind. Listen to and enjoy Mind Your Own on any podcast platform!  This episode contains strong language and graphic imagery. Sensitive listeners, please be advised. “Comeuppance” 12-year-old Lupita’s split-second playground decision haunts her for years. Produced by Regina Bediako & Marisa Dodge. Original score by Clay Xavier. “Graveyard Shift” John Kibera has found the hustle to end all hustles in Nairobi. The shillings pour in. But one day, a job goes very, very wrong. Thank you, John, for sharing your story with us. Produced by David Exumé. Original score by Lalin St. Juste and Sam Law. Translation by Salome Nduku. Voiceover by Ndungi Githuku. Special thanks to our fixer Michael Kaloki. Original Mind Your Own theme song by Sandra Lawson-Ndu AKA Sandu Ndu x Peachcurls ft. Ehiorobo. This episode also featured the song O.T.T by Rouge. Executive Producers: Glynn Washington and Mark Ristich Managing Editor: Regina Bediako Director of Production: Marisa Dodge Series Producers: David Exumé and Priscilla Alabi Music Supervisor: Sandra Lawson-Ndu Story Scouts: Ashley Okwuosa, Fiona Nyong’o, Jessica Kariisa, Lesedi Oluko Moche Editors: Nancy López and Anna Sussman Engineering: Miles Lassi Operations Manager: Florene Wiley Story Consultant: John Fecile Graphic Design: Jemimah Ekeh Original Artwork: Mateus Sithole Special Thanks: Allan Coye, Jake Kleinberg, Samara Still, Sarah Yoo, Warner Music Group, and Afripods Mind Your Own is a production of KQED’s Snap Studios, with sales and distribution by Lemonada Media. Hosted and produced by Lupita Nyong’o. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Spooksters. Today we're riding down a special spook path, something a little different, because I'm going to hand the spook microphone over to a dear friend of spook to introduce a series we made in partnership with Lemonada Media to show us hard with soul, a sprinkle of darkness, and drum roll. It's coming to you courtesy of the Oscar-winning star of stage and screen with Peter Njongo. Because that's how we roll. Some of you know her from. from Black Panther or a quiet place day one, even 12 years of slave, but it's spooked. We know Lepida as a storyteller, a 3 am. texter, a gift giver, and a host extraordinaire. Lepida Niyongo, take it away.

Spooked. This episode contains strong language and graphic imagery. Sensitive listeners please be advised. I don't know one Kenyon who would read. rule out witchcraft, Juju, Urogi. Ah, no, it doesn't exist. I feel in some capacity,

every Kenyan has a little belief, a hidden belief in Urogi. In my family, it was very much the Lord is our shepherd and the blood of the lamb will cover me and protect me, But also, watch out for that dude, watch out for that corner. Just air on the side of caution. Today, we're going to get into all of that.

Superstition, Urogi, Juju. We're crossing into the shadow side. I'm Lupita Njongo, and this is Mind Your Own. When I'm got a go. And London, I'm at Tava'iha and Stockholm in London, but she'll make it feel like your home. There's a custom flow, like your own. Take all that feeling I know.

There's a custom to make your own. My coming followers home. It's the life I saw my job. When I was in year seven, I was hanging out in our field at school. I'd finish my activities, and I was waiting for the, late bus. Me and my friends were gathered at the edge of the playing field. We were lying on the ground. We were chatting amongst ourselves. Just kicking it. And there was a group of boys, I think they were like in year five running around the field. But for some reason, they decided

to run in our area. They were running around us and one of the boys decided to jump over. over my legs, over my legs. And I was like, so shocked. Because that is such a bad thing to do in my culture. There's a superstitious belief that if you jump over someone's legs, you stunt their growth and you could make them barren. The way you undo it is he has to jump over you again. So I'm like, come back here, you come back here, jump over me.

How could you do that? So he comes, he jumps over me, and now he's giggling. He, yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm like, you shouldn't be jumping over us. There's a whole field. Go play elsewhere. Me and my friends are having him puffing me. Like, why are they doing this to us?

Shame on them. They were so irritated, these small boys, you know? And then I decide, okay, if he does it again, man, I'm going to have to have a word with him. He does it again. All my approaches are falling on deaf ears. I swear God. Next time this boy comes my way, I'm going to trip him.

I'm just going to kick my leg up casually the way I have been doing and trip him. So, you know, I get back into conversation, but now my attention is fully on these boys. I'm pretending to engage in this gossip session, but no, I am like listening to the pitter-patter of these boys' feet waiting for. for them to approach. And I lift my foot and it catches his and he falls. Yes, did it. But just as soon as I've rejoiced, I recognize almost like in retrospect

that the fall didn't sound right. It was a, and so I'm like, Wait, what? I get up. All my friends get up. We're looking at the boy. He sits up, creedling his hand, and he goes, ow. And he looks down at his arm.

I look down at his arm. And I see that where it's supposed to be brown, there is something white jutting out. And no sooner have I seen that white thing jutting out of blood. His hand is facing the wrong direction. And then he starts to scream. I broke someone's arm. I don't know what to do.

There is panic all around me. My friends have run to call the receptionist. The teachers have a show. up. In no time there's an ambulance there. You know, I just wanted him to trip and maybe have a little graze on his elbow. That's it. You know, a little whoops. I didn't want him to like, I didn't want him to end up in a hospital. He's put on a stretcher and he's carried away. The teachers that are left behind are trying to figure out what happened. And I feel like everybody knows that I did it on purpose.

I'm hearing the boys that were running around, then telling the teachers, oh, we were playing, we were playing. And then he jumped over their legs and tripped. I realized that nobody knew that I had done it intentionally. And so I chose not to say anything. I was crying and crying. And I remember, like, my teacher was saying,

Why are you crying so much? You're fine. Can't you see that the boy is hurt? You need to have sympathy for him. Surely they would find out. Surely he would say something. I wanted to find out what hospital he was in. But then I realized that if I take too much action,

they might figure it out, and then I might get expelled. My parents might be expelled. I'd have to pay the hospital bill. At that point, things were tight financially, and I knew that. He was out of school for a while, maybe a week or two. We were asked to write him a get-well, soon card, and so I signed the card. I was just so sure that when he got better and came back to school, he would come from me.

When I heard he was back, That day, I didn't hear anything my teacher said in those first sessions of class, man. Because all I could think about was like, I'm going to see him. I'm going to run into him at recess. He was going to point a finger at me and yell at the top of his voice. It's her fault. It's her fault. It's her who did it.

It was break time. And very unceremoniously, he just passed me by. He had one hell of a cast on. He saw me. He said, hi. I said, hi. And he just went on. It was like he didn't even recognize me.

Like, he didn't equate me to his accident at all. At first, I was perplexed. Because here I was, and I saw his face every night. And so to see him, so unburdened by me, was really quite surprising. And then I thought, that means I'm really in the clear. I felt, and I just kept the guilt. I didn't get suspended.

I didn't miss one day of school. And I didn't get socially condemned. If I didn't tell this story, nobody'd know. But I would. So, what comes? constitutes getting away with it. Don't go anywhere. More mind your own after this quick break.

Welcome back. You're listening to Mind Your Own. At some point or another, we've all had a scheme. Maybe it's a gamble that you're sure is going to turn out in your favor. And it does. And it keeps working for you. It's almost too good to be true. Well, I can tell you with certainty that you have never heard, a scheme quite like this one.

Today on Mind Your Own, we're taking you to Kenya to meet John Kibera, the man who disturbed the dead. I hope you're listening. John Kibera knows a lot about the thief manual. You know, a thief is not wise. A thief's money is spent quickly, runs out quickly. When you are a thief, you have to be a hypocrite. You have just to pretend that you have no idea what is going on. Since age 11, crime was the only way he knew how to survive.

He had been caught several times, served sometime, and went back to robbing banks and carjacks. One day, it nearly cost him his life. We were at a place called Kawanguare. We accosted this particular victim as they were driving into the compound. We did not know that the police were laying in wait. I had the first gunshot, the second gunshot, and the third gunshot, and the third gunshot, and everyone scrambled.

We had gone as a squad of six people. of six people. The police gunned down two of them. John made it out alive, but this was his last time doing armed robbery. He realized he wanted to find a better, safer hustle. I really sat down and thought, what kind of crime would not bring me trouble with the police? What kind of crime would not give me trouble with the public. Attending the burial of one of his friends who was involved in the carjacking was a brutal reminder

of why he had to change things up. And at that funeral, he noticed something. So, that's up, I'm going to be with umawazzo. I can't find a business of to imbaga these imaginesa. In the cemetery, I noticed that the rich were buried in very expensive coffins.

And this is where I got the idea. How could I steal these coffins? John imagines it would be like any other heist. You find a buyer? I found a coffin shop and talked to the owner. Put together a small team of reliable men. Two of them, we had been locked up together. And yes, there was that one,

grisly detail of handling dead bodies, but John had a solution for that too. Like three beers and then smoke some weed. Even these use drugs too to sort of escape water with you. All that was left was to do the job. Luckily, John knew a spot that was just ten minutes away from where he lived in Nairobi. In January of the year 2000, John, Don Kibera and his band of misfits headed to Langata Cemetery for their first heist. Langata Cemetery is divided into three sections.

This is a section for barring the very wealthy. This is a section for barring the millionaires. And the last section is for barring the poor. They got there at 2 a.m. So there were no guards around to watch them sneak into it. the wealthiest section of the graveyard. They picked a grave at random and shuffled off the top layer of soil. Underneath was a concrete slab.

The rich plaster the sides of the grave, and then they put the slab on top. The slab made the work easier, because all you needed to do was just put it aside. After moving the slab aside, the team saw what they had come for. An expensive coffin. They hoisted the coffin out of the hole and set it on the ground. And when they opened it up, He had on a suit, a golden ring, chain, good shoes. I was ecstatic.

John and his team pulled the body out of the coffin, which was less foul than he thought it would be. The kind of corpse we are talking about is, the rich person's corpse. It was very well preserved. It was like a sculpture. Turns out even in death, the wealthy sleep better than the poor.

So, together with my team, we removed the suit, we removed the shoes, we removed the jewelry. Then we dumped the body back without any of the clothes or jewelry and without the coffin. They put the slab back

so that people would not catch on. We were fulfilling the scriptures that say, Bina d'angu, were come downed unikita, and he'll return by little bit of a human being comes naked to the world, and they should live naked. And by 4 a.m., I had taken the coffin to the businessman who owned the coffin shop, and he paid me my first 70,000 shillings. 70,000 shillings. That could get you something nice.

like a top-of-the-line computer or television. And then John took the chain, suit and shoes to a second-hand market called Gekomba for some extra cash. And from there, I felt business was really good because now I had found the shop and my work was now to bring in the coffins. But John is not even 20 years old at this point.

And like a lot of people his age, he went through that cash fast. You know, you're in a bar, you need a drink, you know, a woman comes in. You need a woman. You don't want to embarrass yourself in your own local club. John knew he had a good thing going. He just had to think more strategically. I used to buy the newspaper every day to read the obituaries. And if the obituary was a full page or half page,

I knew that the deceased was coming from a wealthy family. In the obituaries, they must state that the meeting is taking place at 6 p.m. At this specific place. That's where the meetings to plan the funeral are happening. John and his boys would put on suits to blend in, head to the funeral preparation meeting, and listen. The bigger the budget of the coffin, the more money they would make when they stole it. Most days I could attend two meetings where people were mourning.

But they couldn't go to the graveyard until nightfall. So during the day, John and his guys would just hang out. We'd go to bus. It's a river road in Nairobi, it's a uthiru. Like one in river road in Nairobi and another in Uthiru. I love playing pool, so we always would play pool, just waiting, waiting for time for us to do our work. It was our game. One of these nights when they were out at a bar, John met someone special.

Margaret Wanzer. Her name was Margaret Wanziro. We met in a bar in Nairobi. We were having fun and enjoying the one-man guitar show. She used to work in bars. In the course of our conversation and get her. to know each other until the point of getting intimate, that's when I told her about what I did.

And she understood. She didn't just understand. No, no, no, no. Margaret invited herself into John Kibera's team, and she was in 200%. When the priest or the pastor would be saying it is time to lower the body, Margaret would be there and would really cry a lot.

Some of the coffins were not sealed with nails, but had locks. And in that crying, she would take an opportunity to take a photo of the lock to help us know how to open it later. The lady was hardcore. John's team grew to have eight people total. And over the next year, they would make around a hundred and fifty-thousy, thousand shillings every time they dug up a coffin and sold the valuables. That was enough to buy a brand new car. And John's original hunch was right. This was much safer than holding a person

at gunpoint or stealing a car. It was a lot better than armed crime or armed robbery. The corpse wouldn't ask you any questions. It's true. A corpse wouldn't give you the same heat. A living person would. at least not most of the time. One time we went to steal from a grave in Nianza province. And when we tried to, we all started trembling, and we couldn't do it. And this is the first time I started suspecting that corpses could have evil spirits. I only used to hear about it, but I never used to believe it. Okay, stay tuned.

We'll have more for you. after the break. You're listening to Mind Your Own. The team wasn't even able to get the coffin out of the grave. That's how hard they were trembling. And over the next few days, John started to see visions, of whom he could only assume was that poor soul that he was trying to rub. When I went to sleep, you know my teeth you know in my eyes on mycho.

When I went to sleep, I would see this person, like literally. I would see this person. And when I felt that this dead body, this corpse was tormenting me, I spoke to one elder and told him what was happening to me. And he told me that I had to find 50,000 shillings and go back to that community and ask for forgiveness. So I did to free myself from this problem.

Well, a restless spirit in an anonymous doorkman. nation was not enough to stop John from keeping this operation going. Not when the money was so good. Now I had money. I built an amazing house, a seven-story house in the neighborhood. Garry a Pidgeot. I bought myself a Pujot 504, which was renowned in Kenya. I could pay to sleep in a nice hotel.

I could visit different parts of the country. I could go to Mombasa, to the coast. I was at the peak of my life. It was like a landan lifestyle. Not only was John's wallet happy, but he realized he kind of liked being the boss. This was a level of security and comfort John had just never known.

So for each job we did, I had to get more money. I loved it. I was a friar because I mean your patron. I was the patron. They wouldn't go on any operation without me. It felt good to be the boss, who many people depended on.

John Kibera could finally enjoy the little things in life, like dates with Margaret. She was the first person to just take me somewhere where we could relax like recreation of people. place, like one where there was lots of entertainment with kikuyu musicians, whom I loved. She was beautiful. I loved her heart, and I respected her. She used to make me feel like a man.

She really used to encourage me and tell me, you know, be strong, love. I did this work until it got to a point where, The corpse was really nothing to me. We just kept on doing our thing without fearing anything. Which made John and his team more ambitious. They wanted to think bigger and bolder about their heists. Like when they went after the grave of Ibrahim Akasha, a drug kingpin who operated out of Mombasa.

You're who's there, Akasha? He was a drag lord. In a coffin worth 1.2 million. shillings. When he was shot and buried, we got the coffin. After two days, word went round that Akasha had been exhumed, but no one knew who had done it. They had picked too big a target. News was starting to spread around Nairobi and other parts of Kenya that people were indeed stealing from graves. But the names and faces were still unknown. John and his associates continued to disturb the dead and tempt fate.

Fearless, rich, and a little sloppy. I remember it was a Saturday, around 1.30 a.m. There's a day we had gone to steal a coffin at a place called Githunguri. Everything had been going to be going to steal a coffin at a place called Githunguri. planned. They found a grave, dug out the slab, but before they could get the coffin out, a local spotted them. Kerewe, and they were saying, weas, wazzi, wazzi, wazzi. And they started screaming. Vives! We ran away, and they started chasing us. My four colleagues and I, took off.

And when we go to River Sagana, it was everyone for himself. At least I could swim. I took. I made me who me saydiwa and to get to get to

Muntu, Sagana. I jumped into River Sagana and I swam for about 500 meters. I got out

of the river and onto the road. John hailed down a vegetable truck that gave him a lift back to town. He rented

a hotel room and tried to lay low for the night. I was lucky to have gotten away. But I kept thinking, what about my colleagues? I was taking tea in the hotel when I had it announced on the news. The news of Kenya, you may be taken abseed ABCD,

were there were never abacaburi, the people came to carry. Thieves had been burned in Maragua when they were trying to steal a coffin. Some of John's guys had been caught by angry locals who wanted justice. They were taken to Maragua and executed. As the other hotel guests shook their heads at the news, John, for his own safety, played along and pretended like he didn't know anything. He knew he had to stay as far removed from this new cycle as possible,

which meant he couldn't even go to their funerals. I'd bea-fikiriya to end or I'd like to end. I did think about it. I would have wanted to. But the fear that I could go there and, you know, then the suspicion, people would say this guy was with them or they used to be together. That fear stopped me. And this isn't like that gang shooter that got John into grave robbing in the first place.

No, this time John was the boss. John had spent time with them. John had brought each of them into the fold. They had families and I knew their families. I knew their wives. I knew their children. So I was really sad that I had brought them into this kind of tragedy. I was heartbroken.

I felt like I had no strength. I would wake up and I'd go to a pub. I would wake up and go to a pub. I would play pool. I would play from like 2 p.m. to 8 p.m. at night. And then I would go back home. John and his team lay low, not daring to approach another grave. But after a few months,

the money started running out. A few of John's men approached him and said, When the cooking stick breaks, that is not the head of cooking. Like you don't stop cooking because the cooking stick has broken. So they said, let's get back to work. John agreed to continue the grave robbing spree. After all, it was the only source of income, not just for himself, but for his.

his old team, and they'd all gotten used to that London lifestyle. But before he could plan another heist, he had to tell a certain someone that it just wasn't worth the risk anymore. That person was Margaret. I mean, she loved the work. But you know, when I looked and saw that trouble was starting to crop up, I felt no. There is no point for both of them.

us to die. And that is why I asked her to step aside from this. After a long and difficult argument, John agreed to give some of his earnings to Margaret so that she could step out of the coffin-stealing game and start a business of her own. You do this and let me hassle. That marked the last time he and Margaret ever spoke. and John kept hustling, kept unearthing coffins, and kept tempting fate. We were boxing day, Macawar, 2004. It was Boxing Day of 2004.

We were at Langata Cemetery. We were at Langata Cemetery. And we had dug this particular grave and we had taken the coffin out. But the vehicle that was supposed to come and collect the coffin was late. You cannot carry the coffin on your back. You cannot put it on a motorbike. Daylight was approaching and the team did not have enough time to put the coffin back where it came from.

John knew that if they got caught with this coffin, it would be Maragua all over again. In a snap decision, he resorted to a skill he had sworn off what felt like a lifetime ago. To hijack. Carjacking. And the first van they saw wasn't just any van. A van belonging to the nation media group.

Probably the largest multimedia production company in all of East and Central Africa. I switched off the van and grabbed the key. Meanwhile, one of my teammates pulled the... the driver out of the van. The team left the newspaper employee on the ground and went back to the cemetery. When we go to the cemetery,

the coffin couldn't fit because there were still newspapers in the back of the van. So I quickly got into the back of the van. I removed all the newspapers, I dumped them on the ground. And they handed me the coffin. After John pulled the coffin into the back

of the van with him, his teammates closed the door and locked it from the outside. There were no windows, no screens to see the road or the driver's seat. So all John could really see was this golden coffin that they planned to sell. He heard his teammates get in the front and felt the van start moving. Now, Langata Cemetery is very close to Nairobi's central business district, like 10 minutes stops.

Surely they could get there, sell the coffin, and ditch the vehicle. At least that was the plan. John was sitting in the back of the van, in the dark, when he heard... That's when the shooting started. John was thrown against the wall as the van swerved and then came to a screeching halt. He desperately tried to find shelter as bullets punched holes through. the van's walls. The van was like a sieve.

With the doors locked from the outside, John had nowhere to go. But daylight was bleeding through those bullet holes, and it was shining a light on his one saving grace. John Kibera cracked open the lid of that golden coffin, slid inside of it, and closed it shut. Gary, he was sarsay, Kassimama. After about three minutes of it,

gunshots, there was silence. My colleagues from the number of gunshots, I would not expect they had survived. So I knew they were dead. John lay silent and sweltering in the heat, but he could hear voices approaching. Police. I heard the door of the van being opened. Someone must have reported the carjacking. Police discovered that there was a golden coffin in the back, and they wondered what it was for. One of the police officers was asked to check what it was for. I lay completely still. I stiffened my body and opened my eyes wide and fixed them.

In that panic, I cut off a piece of cotton wool from the side of the coffin, and I put it in my mouth so I would look truly dead. and I just prayed for God to save me any way he could. When the police officer opened the coffin, we saw each other face to face. My eyes were wide open, but they were fixed, trying to put on the look of a dead person. I played dead as best as I could.

The officer slammed the coffin shut. He got out of the van and told the other officer, that there was a corpse inside the coffin and it was sweating. I could hear them discussing among themselves what to do. They agreed that the cops need to be taken to the city mortuary. So they agreed that they would carry the coffin and put it in the police land rover. So six of the officers lifted the coffin and they were carrying it on the tarmac of Kenyatta Avenue. That's when my heart told me,

Don't be slow. So, just as they were about to put it in the Land Rover... Ha! They've got to-a-chir-kir-kut-N-Khar. I smacked the coffin loudly. The moment I hit the coffin, their police officers dropped it. I jumped out, and I saw a crowd of people. Everyone ran away, saying an evil spirit had been seen in Nairobi.

People were running, jumping into their... vehicles and trying to get away. Remember, there were three other corpses and no one knew which one would get up next. A lady asked, what is happening? And I'm the one who answered, Can't you see a corpse is running?

Amidst the chaos, John took off. He knew that the police would not treat him any more kindly than they had treated the three corpses in the van. And I just felt time was up for this kind of work.

Ahead of me, I saw Kamukonji police station. I ran there and talked to the OCS. The officer in charge. I turned myself in, and I said, I was the one in the coffin on Kenyatta Avenue. They took me to Makadara court, where I was charged with exhuming dead bodies. That is when the police put my name in the newspapers.

John served six months in prison. After he got out, he tried to move back home to Kauanguare, but he wasn't just John Kibera anymore. He was John Kibera, Kenya's most notorious grave robber. He found out that the papers and tabloids had been spreading his story all over town, a man who made a killing from digging up the dead. And that reputation followed him everywhere he went. So, people who askizabeth, when someone hears that you deal with corpses,

they definitely fear you. This kind of crime is one of a kind, worldwide. If I walked into a bar, someone would see me and recognize me, and they would panic. If I interacted with ladies, they didn't want to associate with me. They were really scared of me. I need new places I need new places

where people couldn't recognize me I gave away my house to a school for orphans as for the cash money I donated it to Langata Women's prison but them blankets

and supplies I've never gone back After that John basically just attended church did some volunteering and kept it low-key Maybe he thought he might be able to live a normal life now. Maybe his past was finally behind him,

which could leave him room to build a future with someone. I met this girl in 2005. She was an asha in a church that I used to go to. Yeah, Arusi, so Arusi, Rousi, so Rousi, came a five in 2008, 2007. Our wedding was to be a year. 2007. But on the wedding day, the father of the bride came with a newspaper, showing me as a criminal. He said he cannot allow his daughter to marry a criminal. So, he took her way when she was still in her

wedding dress. They got into the car and they left. John Kibera, thank you. so much for telling us your story. These days, John is a preacher in Nairobi, as well as a motivational speaker telling kids that crime does not pay. For more about John, check out our show notes. And thank you for listening. It's been good to have you. I've really enjoyed going with you to Langeata Cemetery. In the middle of the night, we looked left, then we looked right. The coast was clear. Until it was... Time to play dead.

We'll see you the next time you mind your own. Until then, here's a song from the continent. OTT by Rouge. Hey, Amado. Guess what you are da? She said, Kristen Diyo. Because everything is... Hey, I'm my door.

Guess what Titi say. What you are do? Mind your own. So everything is O-T, O-T, O-T, everything is O-T-T-T. Everything is O-T-N-O-T. Everything we do is top-lough, but everything is do low-key. Everything is O, everything is O-T-C. Mind Your Own is hosted and produced by me, Lupita Nengo.

This is a production of Snap Studios at KQED, with sales and distribution by Lemonada Media. The executive producers are, Glenn Washington and Mark Ristich. Our managing editor is Regina Bediaco. Our director of production is Marissa Dodge. Original music in my story, Comeuppance, was by Clay Xavier. The story Graveyard Shift was produced by David Exame,

Translation by Salome Ndoucu, voiceover by Ndungi Giduku, original music by Lalene Saint-Just and Sam Law. special thanks to our fixer, Michael Kaloki. Our Mind Your Own producers are David Exame and Priscilla Alabi. Our story scouts are Ashley Oquosa, Fiona Njongo, Jessica Carissa and Lacedi Oluco Moche. Our editors are Nancy Lopez and Anna Sussman. Our story consultant is John Fisiel.

Engineering by Miles Lassie. A music supervisor is sound. Sandra Lawson Ndu, also known as Sandu Ndu. She also created the Mind Your Own theme song with peach curls, featuring vocals from Ehirobo. Graphic design by Jemima Eke. Original artwork by Mateos Sitole. Special thanks to Alan Koi, Jake Kleinberg, Samara Still, Sarah Yu, Warner Music Group, and Afropods. Make sure to follow Mind Your Own and listen on Apple Podcasts.

Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you get your podcasts. There's even more to love with Lemonada Premium. Subscribers get exclusive access to bonus content from across the network for only $4.99 a month. Subscribe now on Apple Podcasts. Now, go out, get together. For tuning into Mind Your Own Spooksters, and thank you, La Peter Niongo. Big love and thanks as well to our partners. Lemonada Media, the Afropods, Warner Music Group,

SNAP's home station of KQED, Norm Elygen, CA's Josh Lingren, all of Team Snap and to each and every person who put love into this show. There is so much more where this came from. Stories to make you laugh, make you cry, and let you look at the world through someone else's eyes. Listen and enjoy, mind your own, on any podcast platform.