If You Miss This, Blame Your Busy Life: Inside Meru’s Most Unbothered Pool Tournament

Fans following a game at a previous Edition of Aquadel’s Pool Tournament. PHOTO/Felix Kinyua.

As a dependable Meru-based freelance journalist (read: permanently busy and selectively available), my calendar is usually tighter than a drum at a church fundraiser. The only loophole in this madness is the occasional escape to Makutano’s backstreets—yes, the unofficial headquarters of stories, characters, and the sacred art of mushene ya Meru.

Before you ask, yes—everything I do there is strictly legal. I just happen to meet very interesting people in very interesting places. Don’t act surprised. Makutano is the capital of Meru, whether Google Maps agrees or not.

Now, because of this ever-demanding schedule, many events pass me by unnoticed. That was until I discovered Aquadel’s Pool Table Tournaments—the one event that refuses to be ignored. And judging by how they sell out faster than cheap plots in Timau, I’m clearly not the only one paying attention.

Let me paint the picture for you.

Aquadel’s tournaments are not your average cue-and-ball affairs. Depending on the host venue, they can be indoors or outdoors—but when Aquadel’s Carwash and Auto Spa is the host, things escalate. It stops being just a tournament and becomes a full-blown social ecosystem. You’ll find Meru’s finest—networkers, storytellers, competitors, and professional banter specialists—all in one place. Add food, drinks, bonfires, and that unmistakable Meru vibe, and suddenly you’re not attending an event—you’re part of a movement.

But let me not oversell it. Or actually, let me.

Because this weekend—2nd of May—it’s happening again. Same venue. Bigger stakes. Louder bragging rights.

Sixteen players will step up, but only one will walk away Ksh 20,000 richer. The runner-up pockets 15k, while third and fourth place won’t go home empty-handed either, bagging 10k and 5k respectively. And for those who prefer collective glory, the best team earns a trophy—because sometimes money isn’t enough, you also need evidence.

Now to the real drama.

Team Meru will be fielding eight players drawn from Kwa Murugi’s, Mikocheni, and Aquadel itself—a lineup fueled by pride, home advantage, and unfinished business. But they won’t have it easy. Nairobi is sending reinforcements.

Two teams, to be precise.

First, Team Senior, led by the ever-composed Bwana Flash—because every story needs a veteran who doesn’t blink under pressure. Then comes the dangerously named Nairobi Elites. And before you dismiss them as just another overconfident city crew, remember this: the last time they showed up, they didn’t just win—they humbled Meru with cue sticks so precise they might as well have been surgical instruments.

They are the defending champions.

And Meru? Meru is not amused.

Revenge is long overdue, and this weekend, it’s personal.

Backing all this chaos is a lineup of sponsors who clearly understand the assignment: Aquadel Drinking Water (because greatness requires hydration), Thorn Expeditions Tours and Safaris (for those who like their adventures curated), and Mann Insurance (because even champions need backup plans).

The stage is set. The players are ready. The crowd is already rehearsing its reactions.

If you’re wondering where exactly to find this spectacle—Aquadel’s Carwash and Auto Spa is just a short walk from Meru-Ruiri Road, almost opposite Desert Dew Estate, and about 500 metres from KeMU. If you get lost, just follow the noise, the laughter, and the occasional arguments about “foul or no foul.”

Dress well. Carry a jacket if you must—but don’t expect to use it much. This event doesn’t do cold. It runs on pure heat.

So yes, while the rest of you debate how to spend your Labour Day weekend, some of us have already made smarter decisions.

Form ni Aquadel’s Pool Tournament.

And to our friends from Nairobi—kina Flash and your well-oiled machines—Meru is waiting. Calmly. Patiently. Like a salary at the end of the month.

Show up.

About the Author

Felix Kinyua is a Meru-based freelance journalist with a sharp eye for stories and an even sharper ear for mushene. Known for blending humor, satire, and raw local insight, he documents the rhythms of everyday life while occasionally disappearing into Makutano’s backstreets for “research purposes.”