Dust, Choma & Confessions: A Kitengela Catch-Up to Remember.

Koa openly says that if lunch is on the ladies, pilau njeri it shall be.
Iker, slightly MIA on the WhatsApp proceedings, seconds him with no apologies:
“They” are not good in the kitchen.

So Kitengela it is—the chosen catch-up destination.
How we agreed to this still puzzles me. I suspect Lulu played mind games, and her counterpart, the moran, quietly agreed.

Me? I didn't overthink it. I simply reminisced on our last catch-up in the same region, Koa hosting.
Why lie—that choma was top-tier. But again, would I expect less from this Maasai host?

Wendo texts that she’s already on Mombasa Road. Alma says she’s leaving from Karatina but promises to join.
Please, Iker, pick up the phone already.

Yes, Hails accompanied me.
In my monkey bag I carried two plastic bags—precautionary, as she gets car sick and pukes like she is on a payroll.
She was excited to go anywhere with me—my handbag in a human form.

Lulu picks us from Eastmart.
We wait a few minutes for Zola, who is trying to escape boda trips at the stage.
Seriously—must everyone who alights from a Super Metro bus use a boda to get home?
It’s like Team Sisi Kwa Sisi on the ground.

The dust.
Oh, the dust.
We chill.
We feast.
We recall the good, the bad, and the ugly in that institution that brought us all together.

Countless hours spent together picking a zillion calls from mostly agitated clients.
Oh my! That dreadful calibration exercise—
Your tone was off.
Your listening skills were wanting.
You logged in two minutes late from your schedule.

The gang—Lulu, Zola, Wendo, Alma, Koa, Iker, Ursuna, Dora, June (now in a faraway land), Paula (she couldn't join us as her dad was unwell), I, and others held it down.

Btw Lulu, what became of the fake account maker?
Dark persona right there!!

But mostly—we just talk about life.
Raw talk.

Alma got into entrepreneurship. She’s figuring it out.
Zola is now an HR madam—and that title fits her like a glove.
Lulu moved towns for workplace convenience.
She still would go back to Kiambu Road in a split second.

Me?
I was branded the one “elevating Kenyans.”
Positive or negative? That's a story for another day. 😄

Let’s pause.

Wendo needs her own paragraph.

“I’m so sorry, guys. I never invited you for my wedding…
I also didn’t know the wedding was happening that day.”

Yes. You read that right.

She found out on Friday evening.
Passed through town after work, got a dress, booked a last-minute makeup artist for Sunday morning.
The makeup artist showed up smelling of alcohol—Zola had to give her water first.
But she came through.

The wedding happened Sunday, during second service.
Reception? Backyard at her mother-in-law’s.
Guests? Less than 15.

She shows us the photos.
Gorgeous.
We were all in admiration of how she pulled it off—so quickly, so beautifully.
Simplicity is a life hack.
And I salute her for that.

Alma utters this before saying the parting prayers:

“The mountain calls.”

So next stop: Nyeri.
Overnight catch-up.
No fine details yet—but the idea alone excites me.

Meanwhile…
Whoever gave me a rib—uko wapi jamani?
Wink if you need help 😏
Or perhaps, you are lost.
I shall look for you myself 😃

And if you see Iker, please let him know—alitupanga.

Ever had one of those catch-ups that turned into therapy, laughter, and life confessions?
Tell me about it—or text your squad.
Time flies. But friendships like these?
They’re worth every dusty ride.