Madwari Madwari
JF-Expert Member
- Sep 16, 2014
- 1,825
- 3,085
In 2019, during a coordinated attack on civilians in the Westlands District of Nairobi, Kenya, this unidentified British SAS operator, who happened to be in Kenya to conduct training, rushed in to help, escorting groups of hostages, carrying wounded civilians, and killing two of the five attackers.
So most people know that the reason why I'm sat here now is because I intervened in a terrorist incident in 2019, which was the most remarkable day of my life and something I felt I had been training for since the moment I was born. That morning of the attack, I was living in Africa, doing my own bit of shooting, finishing my training, and driving back into the city.
I was driving my pickup truck, and as I was going towards the city on what I call the main but dirt track, I pulled onto this track. It was common to see Maasai tribesmen or workmen working on the Chinese rail link. So, it was odd to see this short black guy wearing a smart business suit and highly polished shoes walking down the track. Something compelled me, against all common sense, to stop the car and ask, "Hey, do you want a lift?" He came running over, thanked me, and got in.
As we started driving, he asked, "What's your name?" I told him my name, Chris. He told me his name and asked, "How old are you?" I said, "I'm 43." He replied, "I'm 43 too. When were you born?" I told him, "September." He said, "I'm born in September too. What day?" I said, "September 15th." He responded, "This is a good sign. September 1975, we were both born."
He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a long dagger. I didn’t feel any threat whatsoever, just completely calm. I even joked, “You’re not going to kill me with that.” It was a long curved dagger with a double tip, an unusual-looking thing. He said, "Oh no, I carry this when I walk down this road in case I come across any evil spirits or demons." He chuckled and put it away.
I asked him, "Judging by how you're dressed, I take it you're going into the city?" He replied, "No, drop me off at the first village we come to. Don’t go inside the village, drop me off before we get into it." This was in Africa, so the village was like mud huts and wriggly tin roofs. As we approached the village, I stopped the vehicle. He opened the door and stepped out, and as soon as his foot hit the ground, everything changed.
His face changed—still the same person but as if I had insulted him badly. His voice changed too. It was quiet but loud, and I could hear it everywhere around me, as if it wasn’t just coming from one direction. It was vibrating in my heart. He said, “Chris, may God bless you many times this day.” Then, he suddenly snapped out of it, thanked me profusely, and closed the door. I drove off.
About 100 or 150 yards down the road, I looked in the mirror, and he was gone. I thought about it briefly but not much. Thirty hours later, after the most remarkable day of my life, his words were echoing in my mind. I was left wondering, "Where did that come from? Who was that? A message from…?"
That event marked the start of a countdown. The interaction with that man happened around 10:30 or 11:00 a.m., and the terrorist attack occurred at 3:30, or more precisely 3:27. From that point on, everything in my life was perfect. I had always considered myself unlucky, and if someone had told me that on my watch a terrorist attack would happen, I’d have thought I’d be out of the country or otherwise not involved. But from that moment, everything was second-perfect for the next few days.
After the encounter, I went and got a haircut, had lunch—Moroccan beef and a daiquiri cocktail—then went home to take a shower. As soon as I stepped out of the shower, put my jeans on, the phone rang. Someone was calling to tell me there was a terrorist attack happening.
So you had a cocktail, took a shower, and then got the call?
Yeah, I had gone to lunch, got a haircut, then went to a bar I liked. After having a cocktail, I went home, did some chores, took a shower, and just as I stepped out, put on my jeans, and put on a t-shirt, the phone rang. I wasn't going to answer it at first, but I did. It was a friend of mine in the complex, saying, "There's a terrorist attack happening at 14 Riverside Drive, you need to get down here."
So you weren’t in the area?
I was close by. Everything, again, is it chance or not? I lived fairly close to the area. The story I’ve heard over and over is that I was just there, but in reality, I heard about it and decided to go in.
What was the drive like?
When I got in the truck, I hadn’t been living there long, so I didn’t know exactly where it was. I put it on Google Maps—it wasn’t that far. On a normal day, that drive could take over an hour, but on that day, when the whole city was in chaos, it only took me 15 minutes to get there. I used advanced driving techniques I’d been taught, driving on the sidewalk, going in and out. Advanced or high-speed pursuit driving isn’t about just driving fast; it’s about knowing when to make a move, when to go for it, and when not to. Everyone can drive fast, but that’s how you get killed or kill someone else.
So, this is the basic 101 San Antonio driving course. The key is to get there—get there and don’t die. It was all about driving at high speed, as fast as I could, because every second counted. I had this sense that the timeline was collapsing.
As I was driving, I was trying to call people to let them know what was happening, turning up the volume to hear them better. I was in a new truck and somehow ended up with a classical music playlist. Suddenly, Vivaldi’s "Summer" started blaring through the speakers while I was maneuvering through traffic. It felt like I was living in my own movie, and I started laughing at the absurdity of it all.
I definitely formed an anchor to that song for the rest of my life. It became my personal soundtrack for that moment. After that song finished, the next one was "Danse Macabre," another classical piece.
As I approached my destination, I kicked open the door and grabbed my gear, but there was no one there to give me information. It was eerily quiet. I drove into the area and saw burning cars that had been set on fire by grenades. I used those cars as a demarcation line, deciding not to go further than that. I threw on some gear to look official and moved toward the entryway of the complex to assess the situation.
The chaos was palpable—cars on fire, people panicking. I didn’t know if it was a car bomb or something else, but grenades were definitely involved.
In this whole experience, it’s not just the event itself that sticks with me, but the feelings surrounding it. There’s a misconception out there that I just happened to be in the right place at the right time, but it was a conscious choice to go in. I remember hearing a woman scream, abruptly cut off by gunfire. That moment compelled me to act.
Twenty-two hours later, I walked out of there. A lot happened in that time, but what I did during those hours is between me and those who were involved. Many people know the details because I’ve briefed law enforcement and military personnel.
There’s a big gap between public perception and the actual events. The full story will come out eventually, but for now, I can only share what I can.
From my perspective, as someone who’s only read the headlines, I initially thought this whole incident lasted maybe two or three hours. Discovering it actually spanned a 24-hour period is mind-blowing. I was briefing some guys in a U.S. military unit, and their reaction was similar—they assumed it was just one building involved, where I helped save some people. The scale of what actually happened is pretty epic.
It’s not for me to share all the details now, but when people hear the full story, I think they'll be amazed. I’m thankful I was there, and every evening I pray and give thanks for that moment. As Sarah often says, “If you see a need, be the one to fill it.” There were times when I felt the world was falling apart around me, and then I realized I was the one who had to step up and help.
It’s a strange feeling. You might have those fierce hesitations we talked about, but when the gunfire started, it was like, "This is what I was trained for." I don’t want to come off as arrogant—I’m not the guy who stands up and claims, “Yeah, I did it all.” I reacted in the moment.
You’re one of the most humble people I know. We’ve been friends for a while, and you’ve never acted like that. I think my lack of need to boast is part of it. I’m not trying to engage in veteran shaming, but there are some who feel the need to show off.
That’s why I wanted to do this podcast. I don’t want to be the super serious guy all the time. Yes, I can be intense, but I’m also a normal person. I have a sense of humor and can stand my ground if crossed, but I’m not going to be the one who intimidates others.
You wouldn’t even be on this podcast if you were like that. I’ve always appreciated your authenticity. People see the accomplishments, but you’ve always been down-to-earth.
Those who boast about their credentials or experiences often reveal their insecurity. If you have to keep proclaiming that you’re an alpha male, it’s likely that you’re not. Confidence doesn’t need to be shouted; it speaks for itself.
Full interview:
View: https://youtu.be/kK-6UCSW48c?feature=shared
Explaining the westgate mall incident:
View: https://youtu.be/p8Eiauns1rM?feature=shared
Instagram chanel of SAS officer:Login • Instagram