To date, Ruhila has not replied my text message

September 21, 2013 was a day like any other. I woke up and left for work at Mayfair Suites in Parklands.

At that time, the building was known to be having unstable power supply, especially on weekends. To ensure that my work went on uninterrupted, I switched off the radio and television sets.

It was dead silent in the building. It was gloomy, chilly and looked like it was going to rain. With the bad weather, it did not cross my mind that I should pass by Westgate for a kids' event my friend Ruhila Adatia-Sood had invited my son and I to attend.

When leaving the building at about 1pm, I received a call from my mother-in-law who is based in South Sudan: "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am," I responded. She said: "Nyinyi watu wa Westlands lazima tujue mko sawa" (We have to ensure Westlands people are okay) before disconnecting the call.

I assumed it was the normal call we receive from time to time.

On my way to the bus stop along Parklands Road, my mother called. She asked a question similar to the one from my mother-in-law. I wondered what was up. I realised something was wrong somewhere, but I could no figure out whom I should call to ask.

At this point in time, there was a lot of commotion on the road. Many ambulances were heading towards MP Shah Hospital. The area was full of noise from sirens.

Upon boarding a matatu at the stage adjacent to the Parklands Police Station, I opted to open my Facebook account to get a glimpse of what was up.

The first update I saw was from DJ Dru: "RIP Adatia."

I first thought it was the madness of the social media, maybe a crazy joke. But again it came into my mind that DJ Dru was not known for such jokes.

"I had talked to Adatia the previous night, at 8pm to be precise. So if she had died, then it must have been through a road accident," I whispered to myself.

I scrolled down the screen of my phone. Almost all updates touched on Adatia's demise at the Westgate Mall. It hit me: "So this happened only a few metres from my office. Yet I did not have any idea about it?"

I was disturbed, literally insane.

Just after boarding a matatu in town heading home, I called my husband. He told me to just go and watch the TV. It was crazy. At home, all television stations were showing the worst that had not hit my mind. Westgate, the mall I was to visit with my six-year-old son, was under siege.

I could not believe my eyes that my dear friend, Adatia, who had for some time requested to meet my son, had died. To me, it was a prank; a really bad one.

I even sent her a Whatsapp message that evening, 10.58 to be exact: "May your soul rest in peace, hoping by a miracle you will reply."

I waited, and waited for her response. It was not forthcoming. This is when it hit me my friend Adatia was gone! But my husband, Nick, was still in denial.

I first met Adatia at an event in Zen Gardens in Lower Kabete Road, Nairobi. She was a cheerful lady. We hugged each other as if we had known each other for long.

Our subsequent 'meetings' were through emails and texts. I learnt a lot from her. She never judged people. She was an all-rounder and a perfectionist.

She even challenged me to start a fashion show and vowed to support me. Sadly, this was interrupted by the unforeseen death. In her memory, I would want to pursue it further.

I do not feel sorry for switching off the office radio and television. This is because if I had seen what was happening at Westgate, I would have been tempted to go and rescue my friend.

But wherever Westgate is mentioned, I feel traumatised. I do not think I will ever go there. That is why I have never narrated this story to my mother, my mother-in-law or even my son.

—As narrated to the writer by Maureen Gathoni Wamugunda, a Nairobi-based fashion designer.