I had just gotten my first job and the blood that flowed in my veins was warm and bubbly.
The company I was working for then knew well how to reward its employees at the end of each year. I guess we were making quite some money for the employer because in return he always splashed it back in a way that was unique and memorable.
This particular year we were being taken for an overnight team building event at Sagana where we were supposed to engage in kayaking, rock climbing and bungee jumping.
More than half of the workforce was below 30 with no externally visible signs of serious dating or getting married.
Our employer must have gotten concerned that we were going to become monks and start wearing pink robes and probably scare away his customers.
He therefore invested heavily in activities that encouraged mingling and getting to know each other more deeply and intimately.
We boarded buses from the workplace towards the destination with no clue as to what lay ahead of us. We never bothered to research on the activities at hand. We never made an effort to question the weather outlook.
We left in our office clothes, and most of us had just packed an extra t-shirt and a light jacket at best.
WRONG GUT COMBINATION FOR BUNGEE JUMPING
Although I was still young and reckless, I did not have the right combination of guts to do bungee jumping. Either that, or I was already too engaged with the adult beverages that had been provided that I did not even notice that bungee jumping was going on.
Rock climbing was reserved for those who had carried the right gear, were brave and in the right frame of mind. None of us could cut that prequalification criteria in part or in full.
I did not attend the kayaking sessions either. I was still single without a care in the world, but in my moments of reflection I desired to grow old and see my own children and grandchildren. Jumping over rocks and rapids in fast flowing waters while sitting on an inflated piece of rubber was not a critical path towards meeting my old age objectives. I steered clear of the river.
DANCED THE AFTERNOON AWAY
A young intern had borrowed a music system for the occasion, and we danced the afternoon away. Our boss soon gave up on persuading us to engage in the team building activities that he had paid dearly for.
A few of us with cameras took photos, and those who had coupled themselves withdrew to the downstream and took photos holding each other over raging falls and rapids.
The night was to behold. We were allocated individual tents so that we could invite tenants at will. Most of us had not slept in tents before, and the excitement was palpable.
Although I was young, agile and restless, I did not have the right classification of charms to lure a tenant into my tent. As a result, I squandered half the night by the fireplace listening to dry jokes from the guys in procurement, and the other half curled up in a frosty sleeping bag.
During the last quarter of the night and towards dawn all the tents nearby were swaying rhythmically. I highly suspect that the tents were either pitched wrongly or the monsoon winds were too fierce. My tent was intact so I considered the predicament of my neighbours as none of my business.
The following morning, we were called for a debrief session where we were supposed to articulate at least five things we had learned and five things we were taking away from the event.
We were given pieces of paper to write four things that we were going to do better as an outcome of the team building.
Needless to say, our faces were blank and clueless like a report from a commission of inquiry.
A few months later you could tell that the team building objectives had borne fruit as people were working late, exchanging more private emails and walking home together.
I still hold dear memories about Sagana as a nice place to hang out. That is my juicy story about Kirinyaga County.
