Decades after abandoning her family to pursue a whirlwind romance with a Kenyan Maasai warrior, British woman Cheryl Thomasgood has spoken publicly about the deep regrets that followed her decision.
Now 65, Cheryl reflects on a past that once made international headlines. At the age of 34, she left behind her second husband, Mike Mason, and three children on the Isle of Wight after falling for 6-foot-2 Maasai dancer Daniel Lekimencho during a holiday at the Bamburi Beach Hotel in Mombasa.
“I thought I had found a spiritual soulmate,” Cheryl told Daily Mail Online, recalling how she was swept off her feet by Daniel, who was part of a cultural troupe entertaining tourists.
Within weeks, she ended her marriage, returned to Kenya, and embraced a life far removed from her quiet suburban routine. Settling in a Samburu manyatta (village), Cheryl traded modern comforts for goat-skin beds, cow’s blood, cabbage meals, and a way of life steeped in traditional Maasai customs.
The dramatic move sparked global curiosity and fascination, symbolizing a romance that bridged continents, cultures, and lifestyles. The couple married and later relocated to the UK with their daughter, Mitsi, intending to raise her alongside Cheryl’s other children.
But the fairytale quickly unraveled.
“Daniel changed completely,” Cheryl recalled. “He became obsessed with money, possessions, and sending cash home. It was like he turned into a different person.”
Disillusioned, Cheryl filed for divorce just a year after Mitsi’s birth. Today, she lives alone in a quiet coastal town in Somerset, where few know about her sensational past.
While she has no contact with Daniel, Cheryl remains close to all her children and describes Mitsi as “the one good thing” that came out of the relationship.
“I was at a low point, and I thought Daniel could heal me,” she said. “But I was just running from my problems. It wasn’t love—it was escape.”
Cheryl’s story, once splashed across tabloids as a symbol of bold romance, has now faded into a private reflection on heartbreak, family, and the cost of impulsive choices.
