Most fine dining restaurants know their worth.

The moment you walk in, you’re met with neatly decorated dining rooms, sparkling silverware, and staff dressed so sharply that even their confidence seems polished.

But let’s be honest, if you’re used to kibandaski life, that kind of setting can be overwhelming. It was for me.

One day, in my wisdom, I decided to surprise my girlfriend with dinner at a five-star hotel in Naivasha for our anniversary.

Sounds romantic, right? Well, wait until you hear what happened.

Now, I’m a village boy through and through. And you know what they say, you can take a man out of the village, but you can’t quite take the village out of the man.

So, when dinner time came, we confidently walked into the restaurant, ready for the experience.

The waiter greeted us warmly and asked if we’d like to hear about the day’s specials. To me, it sounded like a clever trick to keep people excited about food, but my girlfriend, being from a posh background, jumped right in.

They chatted about something I barely understood, except for the word “steak,” which kept coming up. Eventually, she suggested we order steak, and of course, I agreed.

From that point on, I decided my survival strategy was simple, copy her every move. When the starter arrived, I was doing just fine. I thought to myself, This is easy. I got this.

But then came the steak, that’s when things fell apart.

I had never seen that many knives and forks on a table in my life, so I just picked the first pair I saw. Vegetables and roasted potatoes? No problem.

But when it came to the steak, I confidently grabbed my knife, pressed down… and nothing. The steak didn’t even flinch. I pressed harder. Still nothing.

I sneaked a glance at my girlfriend, hoping for clues, but she was cutting her steak with the grace of someone who had clearly done this before. Meanwhile, I was battling mine like it was a piece of wood.

Finally, I looked up, only to find her laughing so hard she almost dropped her fork.

When I asked what was wrong, she smiled and said gently, “Babe, that’s a butter knife. It’s not meant for steak.”

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. Honestly, I wished I could just grab the steak with my bare hands and chew it like nyama choma back at the local joint.

But she kindly showed me the right knife, and at last, I was able to enjoy the meal.

When we got home, I went straight to YouTube University, searching for videos on cutlery, table manners, and dining etiquette.

Fellas, take my advice, learn this stuff early.

Otherwise, you’ll end up like me, sweating over steak while your girlfriend laughs her heart out.

As narrated by Cheruiyot Dennis.

When a village boy meets Naivasha's five-star hotel

Author Spotlight

Muthoni Wanjiku