Munene, the journey...

They said we should wait. The wazees were deliberating. They were discussing "important" issues of national security and interest. So, we walked out. We stood by the door. It was raining hard, and we strained to stand as close to the wall as possible, to avoid getting drenched. Inside, the air was exuberant. The wazees were laughing heartily as they imbibed to their fill with nyama choma and Tusker baridi . My stomach was grumbling. I looked around at my friend. She was shivering. "She's going to catch a cold if we don't get somewhere warm soon," I thought to myself. I could stay here and wait to see the wazees and tell them why we had come. Or I could save my skin and call it a day (or night). I chose the former. I motioned to Wanjiku to follow me. She seemed shocked. We had come so far, having walked in the wind and rain for two hours. She was heavy with child, and due any day now. We passed the Toyota VXs that had transported the wazees to