As day turned to night, the pace changed from hard runs and quick steps, to the intoxicating aroma of the Captain’s Mbuzi as it slowly roasted on the evening fire. The fire represented for me, that eternal flame that burns in the heart of a true Machine; that warmth deep down in our souls every time we hear the name Mean Machine; that intensity that Mean Machine brings to the heart of Kenyan Rugby.

We danced.

They cooked..

..and cooked.

to do what Tony…to do what??!! No, Tony, No!

The loud friend conferred with the learned friend

The “in our days” crew..

There’s one born every year..

Products of 8-4-4 drama class.

The long and short of it..

..is that there was no time for talk.

Thank you very much captains.

And now we look forward to The Scrumhalf’s Chicken.