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Nairobi Divas Juja

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Nairobi Divas Juja

The Cherry Chute Hasn’t Seen Action Like This.

Just off Thika Road, near Juja Farm, there’s an abandoned coffee pulping station. Farmers used to bring their harvest here. Now it’s empty, except for the bats, the rats, and her.

She meets you at the gate, wearing rubber boots and a loose dress. Underneath, nothing.

“My family used to deliver coffee here,” she says. “I always wondered what the night shift did.”

She leads you inside. The concrete tank where cherries were soaked is dry. A wooden chute tilts toward an old press. She pushes you onto a pile of burlap sacks and kneels. The air smells of old parchment and fermented fruit.

“The pulping machine was loud,” she whispers, unzipping your pants. “So are you.”

She takes you in her mouth, the chute creaking behind her. A bat squeaks. She climbs on top, lowers herself onto you, and rides you while the press groans. She clenches every time a rat skitters.

She comes with a gasp that the empty tank echoes. You follow, emptying into her as a dried cherry rolls out of the chute.

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She hands you a parchment bean. “Same station tomorrow? I’ll bring fresh cherries.”

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