Dedication
To every nation that opens its doors in trust,
to every heart that welcomes love in good faith,
and to those who have paid the price for another’s deception.
This book is for the honest —
the ones who believe in love,
who stand for truth,
and who remind the world that compassion without caution
is a wound waiting to be reopened.
Author’s Note
When I began writing Sham Love, I wanted to confront a reality that often hides behind smiles and wedding vows — how illegal immigration can weave its way into the most intimate spaces of life. This story uses romance as its vessel, but beneath the tenderness lies a warning. It exposes how love, trust, and even faith can become tools for manipulation when desperation turns into exploitation.
Ndegwa’s journey from Mucii to Ugeni is not just the tale of one man chasing a dream. It is a mirror of a global truth — how some foreigners exploit the generosity and openness of nations that welcome them. In their hunger for survival, personal interests or status, they trade integrity for opportunity and use affection as a shortcut to legality. Loretta in the story, meanwhile, represents the human cost of such deception — the citizens, communities, and individuals who pay the price of misplaced trust.
Sham Love is not a political manifesto; it is a social mirror. Through one woman’s heartbreak, it asks hard questions about borders, belonging, and the moral decay that hides behind the word “asylum.” It reveals how a nation’s trust, like a lover’s heart, can be betrayed from within — not by force, but by charm.
This book is for every reader who has watched sincerity twisted into strategy, and for every nation that has opened its doors only to be deceived. It is a reminder that compassion must walk hand in hand with caution, and that love — whether between people or nations — must never lose its wisdom.
David Waithera
Sham Love
© 2025
The wheels screeched against the runway, and the airplane shuddered to a halt. Passengers clapped, some out of habit, others in relief. But Ndegwa did not clap. His lips pressed into a firm line, his fingers gripping the armrest. For him, this landing was no ending—it was the first step in a carefully drawn plan.
He adjusted the watch on his wrist as the captain’s voice filled the cabin. Welcome to Ugeni, local time 4:42 a.m. He exhaled, his breath steady, eyes scanning the faces of fellow travelers. Tourists with cameras dangling from their necks, businessmen rehearsing presentations in their minds, students clutching documents—all of them carried innocence in their eyes. They came for what was promised. Ndegwa came for what he would take.
The queue at immigration moved slowly. Bright lights illuminated tired faces. Ndegwa rehearsed his story once more, a story he had crafted long before setting foot on Ugeni soil. When the officer finally looked up from the screen and asked, “Purpose of visit?” Ndegwa’s smile widened just enough. “Tourism. A little rest.” The officer stamped his passport without lifting his gaze. Visitor visa: Ninety days. Ndegwa took back his passport, sliding it into the inner pocket of his jacket. His pulse quickened, though his...
To every nation that opens its doors in trust,
to every heart that welcomes love in good faith,
and to those who have paid the price for another’s deception.
This book is for the honest —
the ones who believe in love,
who stand for truth,
and who remind the world that compassion without caution
is a wound waiting to be reopened.
Author’s Note
When I began writing Sham Love, I wanted to confront a reality that often hides behind smiles and wedding vows — how illegal immigration can weave its way into the most intimate spaces of life. This story uses romance as its vessel, but beneath the tenderness lies a warning. It exposes how love, trust, and even faith can become tools for manipulation when desperation turns into exploitation.
Ndegwa’s journey from Mucii to Ugeni is not just the tale of one man chasing a dream. It is a mirror of a global truth — how some foreigners exploit the generosity and openness of nations that welcome them. In their hunger for survival, personal interests or status, they trade integrity for opportunity and use affection as a shortcut to legality. Loretta in the story, meanwhile, represents the human cost of such deception — the citizens, communities, and individuals who pay the price of misplaced trust.
Sham Love is not a political manifesto; it is a social mirror. Through one woman’s heartbreak, it asks hard questions about borders, belonging, and the moral decay that hides behind the word “asylum.” It reveals how a nation’s trust, like a lover’s heart, can be betrayed from within — not by force, but by charm.
This book is for every reader who has watched sincerity twisted into strategy, and for every nation that has opened its doors only to be deceived. It is a reminder that compassion must walk hand in hand with caution, and that love — whether between people or nations — must never lose its wisdom.
David Waithera
Sham Love
© 2025
The wheels screeched against the runway, and the airplane shuddered to a halt. Passengers clapped, some out of habit, others in relief. But Ndegwa did not clap. His lips pressed into a firm line, his fingers gripping the armrest. For him, this landing was no ending—it was the first step in a carefully drawn plan.
He adjusted the watch on his wrist as the captain’s voice filled the cabin. Welcome to Ugeni, local time 4:42 a.m. He exhaled, his breath steady, eyes scanning the faces of fellow travelers. Tourists with cameras dangling from their necks, businessmen rehearsing presentations in their minds, students clutching documents—all of them carried innocence in their eyes. They came for what was promised. Ndegwa came for what he would take.
The queue at immigration moved slowly. Bright lights illuminated tired faces. Ndegwa rehearsed his story once more, a story he had crafted long before setting foot on Ugeni soil. When the officer finally looked up from the screen and asked, “Purpose of visit?” Ndegwa’s smile widened just enough. “Tourism. A little rest.” The officer stamped his passport without lifting his gaze. Visitor visa: Ninety days. Ndegwa took back his passport, sliding it into the inner pocket of his jacket. His pulse quickened, though his...
