It was exactly 2:03 a.m. when 17-year-old Vanessa woke up feeling unusually thirsty. She had gone to bed at around 10 p.m. after spending nearly four hours chatting with her friends, watching TikTok videos, and promising her mother that she would wake up early to clean the house.
Of course, everyone in the family knew that Vanessa’s promises were like government projects: they sounded impressive when announced but rarely reached completion.
That night, however, something strange was about to happen.
Vanessa slowly opened her eyes and reached for her phone. The screen lit up her face, revealing three missed calls from her best friend, a dozen WhatsApp messages, and a reminder she had set herself three weeks earlier to start exercising.
She dismissed everything.
“Tomorrow is another day,” she whispered.
Then her stomach growled.
“Even my stomach doesn’t respect sleeping hours,” she complained.
She climbed out of bed, wrapped herself in a pink dressing gown, and quietly opened her bedroom door. The house was silent. Her father was snoring loudly in the master bedroom, while her younger brother, Kevin, was sleeping with his mouth open and one leg hanging outside his blanket.
Vanessa tiptoed down the corridor toward the kitchen.
But just as she reached the sitting room, she froze.
Someone was standing in the kitchen.
It was a woman.
She was tall, dressed in a long white dress, and had a scarf covering most of her head. She stood with her back facing Vanessa, stirring something inside a cooking pot.
At 2 a.m.
In their kitchen.
Without turning on the lights.
Vanessa’s heart began beating like a drum at a political rally.
“Who… who are you?” she stammered.
The mysterious woman stopped stirring.
Slowly, she turned her head.
“Come closer, my child,” the woman whispered.
Vanessa nearly swallowed her tongue.
Every scary movie she had ever watched suddenly returned to her mind. She remembered stories about ghosts, witches, and mysterious visitors who appeared at midnight to demand things nobody understood.
She wanted to scream, but her voice refused to cooperate.
Instead, she whispered, “Madam, if you are a ghost, please understand that we are not financially stable enough for spiritual problems.”
The woman said nothing.
Vanessa took two steps backward.
“Please, I am still young. I haven’t even travelled outside Kenya. I haven’t married, and I haven’t enjoyed my mother’s retirement benefits!”
The woman slowly raised one hand and pointed toward the pot.
“Do you know what I am cooking?”
Vanessa shook her head violently.
“Your future,” the woman replied.
Vanessa’s knees nearly surrendered.
“My future? Is it ugali? Because if it is ugali, please add enough water. My mother makes it too hard!”
Suddenly, the woman burst into laughter.
It was not the frightening, supernatural laughter Vanessa expected. It was the familiar, uncontrollable laughter of someone who had just heard an excellent joke.
Then she removed the scarf.
Vanessa screamed.
“MUM!”
Standing before her was her mother’s younger sister, Auntie Beatrice, who had arrived from the village the previous evening without informing anyone.
Auntie Beatrice was famous for two things: arriving unexpectedly and asking deeply personal questions before breakfast.
But Vanessa’s relief lasted only a few seconds.
“What are you doing here at this time?” Vanessa demanded, placing one hand on her chest.
Auntie Beatrice folded her arms.
“That is exactly what I should be asking you. Why are you awake at 2 a.m.?”
“I came to drink water.”
“Water?” Auntie Beatrice looked at the cooking pot. “Then why are you staring at me as if I have stolen your school fees?”
Before Vanessa could respond, her mother appeared in the doorway, wearing a nightdress and carrying a wooden spoon.
“What is happening here?” she asked angrily.
Vanessa pointed at her aunt.
“Mum, this woman was standing in our kitchen in the dark, cooking my future!”
Her mother stared at Auntie Beatrice.
Then she burst into laughter so loudly that Vanessa’s father woke up and rushed into the sitting room carrying a pillow as though it were a weapon.
“What is it? Has someone broken into the house?” he shouted.
Vanessa pointed dramatically at her aunt.
“That woman!”
Her father looked at Auntie Beatrice, then at his wife, then at the cooking pot.
“Oh,” he said calmly. “Beatrice is here.”
Vanessa turned toward him in disbelief.
“Dad! You knew?”
“Of course. She arrived yesterday.”
“And nobody told me?”
Her father shrugged.
“You were busy explaining to your friends why you cannot date a man who uses an Android phone.”
Even Auntie Beatrice stopped laughing for a moment.
“Eh, Vanessa! So you have become that expensive?”
“Dad, that is not the issue!” Vanessa protested.
Unfortunately, the family had already found a new topic of discussion.
Her mother pulled a chair closer to the table.
“Since everyone is awake, let us talk about Vanessa’s future.”
Vanessa immediately began moving toward the staircase.
“No, thank you. I have seen enough of the future for one night.”
But Auntie Beatrice caught her sleeve.
“Sit down, my child. I have come with important news.”
Vanessa swallowed nervously.
“What news?”
Auntie Beatrice leaned forward dramatically.
“I have found you a husband.”
Vanessa nearly fell off the chair.
“A husband? At 2 a.m.?”
“He is a very responsible young man,” Auntie Beatrice continued. “He has a job, a car, and his own house.”
For the first time that night, Vanessa looked interested.
“What kind of car?”
“A Toyota.”
“What model?”
Auntie Beatrice hesitated.
“That is not important.”
“It is very important,” Vanessa replied. “Is it a Toyota Vitz or a Prado?”
Her father burst into laughter.
“Look at this girl! She has not even finished school, but she is already inspecting matrimonial vehicles!”
Auntie Beatrice ignored him.
“The young man is a farmer. He grows tomatoes, onions, and cabbages.”
Vanessa’s face changed instantly.
“A farmer?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have Wi-Fi?”
Auntie Beatrice blinked.
“Why would a farmer need Wi-Fi?”
Vanessa stood up.
“Good night, everybody. I refuse to marry a man whose strongest network is a chicken fence.”
Her father laughed so hard that he had to sit down.
But Auntie Beatrice was not finished.
“At least he will always have food. Unlike these boys you meet online who send you good morning messages but cannot even buy you a mandazi.”
Vanessa opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again.
For once, her aunt had made a reasonable point.
Just then, Kevin appeared at the staircase, rubbing his eyes.
“Why is everyone awake?”
His father pointed toward the kitchen.
“Your aunt has come to discuss your sister’s marriage.”
Kevin looked at Vanessa and smiled wickedly.
“Excellent! Can the wedding happen next week? I need her bedroom for my gaming room.”
Vanessa grabbed a cushion and threw it at him.
The cushion missed Kevin and landed directly in the cooking pot.
Everyone screamed.
Auntie Beatrice stared at the pot in horror.
“My chicken!”
That was when the family discovered the real reason she had been cooking at 2 a.m. She had brought a chicken from the village, hidden it in the kitchen refrigerator, and decided to prepare a special stew for the following day’s family gathering.
Now the chicken was decorated with cushion feathers.
Vanessa looked at the pot, then at her aunt.
“At least we know the mysterious woman was not cooking my future.”
Auntie Beatrice picked up the cushion and sighed.
“No, my child. I was cooking supper. But after tonight, I may cook your funeral!”
The entire family erupted into laughter.
By 3 a.m., they were sitting around the kitchen table eating the surviving chicken stew, arguing about Toyota models, and listening to Auntie Beatrice describe her mysterious farming bachelor.
Vanessa eventually returned to bed, convinced that the scariest thing about the night had not been the mysterious woman in the kitchen.
It was the discovery that her entire family had secretly agreed to discuss her marriage before sunrise.
The following morning, she posted a WhatsApp status:
“Never wake up at 2 a.m. to drink water. You might meet a ghost, discover your aunt has arrived from the village, and leave the kitchen engaged to a tomato farmer.”
Within minutes, her friends flooded her phone with laughing emojis.
But the final twist came that evening when Auntie Beatrice announced that the farmer would be visiting the family the following Sunday.
Vanessa stared at her mother in disbelief.
“Mum, please tell me this is another joke.”
Her mother smiled.
“Of course, my daughter. We are only going to meet him.”
Vanessa sighed with relief.
Then her mother added, “And remember to dress nicely. He is bringing tomatoes.”
Vanessa screamed so loudly that the neighbours thought another mysterious woman had entered the house.
The moral of the story? Sometimes the biggest nightmare is not a ghost appearing at 2 a.m. It is a relative who arrives unexpectedly, carries village news, and believes your love life is a family project requiring immediate implementation!
