Insure Your Memories.

Happy New Year, folks, and welcome to 2025. I ushered in the new year on December 31st by going (more like taking) with my baby shark to Karen to witness fireworks. We’ve never done that before, so it was a new and different experience. Once we arrived I was happy to grab a hot dawa and look for a fire pit to warm myself as the Gen Zs buzzed everywhere. We hung out until about 2 am, then returned home, grateful to see another year. It was special rukaing (crossing over) the year with my beautiful teenager.

Little did we know that the fireworks that lit up the sky on New Year’s Eve in Karen would turn into works of fire that would consume our beloved clubhouse at Limuru Country Club 3 days later. I was woken up last Saturday morning to the horror of our clubhouse burnt to the ground. The pictures on our club WhatsApp group were too painful to see. I felt like I had lost a loved one. Maybe I had.

I joined Limuru in 2006. I was trying out this weird game played by about 80 tycoons over 80 who run the economy. That was my perception then. I now know better though I’m still working hard hoping to be a tycoon almost 20 years later. Limuru club has always had a vibe and it was easy to make friends as we learnt and played the greatest game ever invented. See how I have gone full circle now hehe.

Six years later I was golf captain in 2012. It wasn’t part of the plan, but I rode the wave and tried to do a good thing while having a good time. I recall my captain’s prize (send-off party) at the end of 2012 coincided with former president Kibaki’s exit from statehouse. I joked that Kibaki and I were retiring. Little did I know plans headed in the opposite direction were about to hatch. The deep state at Limuru back then had other plans for me. I was proposed to join the national golfing body, Kenya Golf Union. Clueless, I accepted the posting. We had a good run and again 6 years later I found myself heading the union as chairman. Folks, sometimes in life we don’t choose, we get chosen. I feel like golf and Limuru Club chose me because it’s been a significant part of me since. Thank you, LCC.

Our history-rich clubhouse is gone forever. The structure is a shell of its former self but that’s not the worst part for me.  Though the NO CELL PHONES ALLOWED notice survived the inferno. Maybe a phone call should have been allowed this one time to call for help in good time hehe. The artefacts and relics that tell the history of Limuru are now all gone and impossible to replace. We will build a bigger and better clubhouse for sure but how will we ever gain back the rich history that adorned the wall of our antique and rustic clubhouse? From championship trophies to shields and memorabilia that’s several decades old. The walk down memory lane that’s been our clubhouse is all gone.

We started an initiative last week for members to post photos taken in the clubhouse over the years so that we can keep some memory of what was. I shared a few too. As photos started coming in I could feel the warmth and camaraderie. Our clubhouse was easily the warmest in town yet located in one of the coldest areas. I could remember exactly how I felt at that moment when I saw myself in some of the photos. That got me thinking. The fact that I could remember and treasure moments and experiences in our clubhouse wasn’t dependent on the clubhouse being there. It is now gone forever but the memory of experiences and learnings that happened there remain.

So, would I miss our clubhouse if I didn’t have fun times there with good humans over the years? Probably not. Are the times spent there still meaningful even after the clubhouse burnt down? Definitely. I am slowly awakening to the fact that maybe we need to be more intentional about the time we spend with each other. I borrowed a quote from a pal’s post that told us to be where our feet are in 2025. I’ve quickly adopted it as my WhatsApp status.

We will rise again and build a bigger and better clubhouse but what will make it special? It’s the people, not the building. At the risk of being stoned by my fellow clubmates, maybe the clubhouse needed to go for us to move on up. How will we make our new clubhouse as special as the old one? by importing memories and replaying them in our new space. Also by making new memories.

Limuru then may have not fallen after all because the same warm and special members are still around and the love for our club hasn’t ended. Building the clubhouse may be the easier part. Much easier than building relationships I believe. Thankfully those didn’t burn.

Maybe then the essence of a life well lived is to invest in building people (not just houses) and enjoying the moments that leave people better than we found them. What If our clubhouse spoke in its dying moments on that chilly Saturday morning? Maybe it would have said its work is done. It has brought many people together for many years and enriched their lives through the beautiful game of golf, and a pint at 19^th hole. Maybe it would have been proud to have provided warmth to many both physically and relationally. And it was time to leave and make space for another clubhouse. We shall miss our clubhouse because of what it represented to us and maybe not so much for what it was. And maybe that’s why it went down at 3 am when there were no beloved members to witness its demise.

Maybe that fire was for a reason, folks. For us to up our game and live significantly and in the process leave people better than we found them. If our absence is not felt then our presence wasn’t necessary. Our clubhouse was necessary. That’s why we feel its absence so much.

As Limuru rises again may we seek to make 2025 the year we rise for ourselves and others too. That’s how we fireproof the memories we accumulate as we go through life because they live in people more than places.