Who Needs a Restaurant for a Date?

Who Needs a Restaurant for a Date? An Evening in the Kitchen
19 September 2026
Today, 19 September 2026, feels like a simple evening, but somehow it feels different. My sundi and I are spending time together at her dad’s house, cooking instead of going out somewhere to eat.
I finish at church and come through Hohola. On the way, I stop by Eliseo and buy some meat, spinach, and mandarins. I also have a watermelon that the church mothers give me.
When I get to the house, my sundi and I go into the kitchen and start figuring out what we are going to cook and how we are going to prepare everything. She already has some food cooked, so we add a few more things to the meal.
We cook some soup, boil some pumpkin, roast a couple of pumpkins and some meat in the oven, fry some meat, and fry the spinach.
There is no perfectly organised cooking plan. We are just moving around the kitchen, figuring things out as we go.
My sundi gives me a kulau, so I break it open with my hand. I scoop out the flesh with a spoon, give some to her, and then have some myself. It is just one of those little things we share while getting the food ready.
Then we get to the spinach.
I clean it up and prepare it while my sundi takes care of frying it. It is her first time eating and cooking spinach, so I have to show her what to do. I explain things as we go along, and we work it out together.
It is actually quite fun.
We move around the kitchen, talk about different things, laugh, help each other, and sometimes just watch what the other person is doing. There is no pressure to get everything perfect. We are simply enjoying the moment.
At one point, her big brother hears us in the kitchen and comes in. He hugs me and says hello, then goes back out to the living room.
And we just continue cooking.
I like that moment—the normality of it as my sundi, and I continue doing what we are doing.
While we are cooking, I tell my sundi about my experience donating blood to Angau Hospital when I was at Unitech.
It is my first time donating blood, and I tell her that I actually regret doing it because, according to my own weird little theology, my blood is precious! That was the last time I donated and I never did that again.
I explain my funny way of thinking about it, and we both laugh.
The conversation just flows naturally as we cook. We are not sitting somewhere trying to think of things to talk about. The stories, jokes, and random conversations simply come.
My sundi shows me all the spices she has in the kitchen and the olive oil she buys. She also shows me the other spice I bought for her a week ago. I guess we both like spiced food. My favourite is curry chicken, while my sundi’s favourite is basically “something hot”—anything spicy, chilli, and hot.
We are not rushing. We are enjoying ourselves.
After the food is ready, we eat with her parents. We sit together, talk, and enjoy the meal. The evening becomes a family gathering, with everyone sharing the same space, food, and conversation.
At some point, my sundi reminds me of a joke I told her some time ago. She remembers it well and asks me to tell it again, this time with her parents listening too.
It is the story about a priest and a nun.
The priest is named Toungolou, and the nun is Agnella. They are living around the same convent, and eventually they develop feelings for each other and begin seeing each other.
It is a story my papa shares with me, my sisters, and my mum back in the village, and somehow, I remember every detail of it.
Their relationship grows and eventually becomes obvious. The parish congregation begins to notice and becomes suspicious. After some time, they establish that the priest and the nun are actually in love with each other.
So the congregation decides to find a way to expose them.
They check the schedule and notice that, on a particular Sunday, Father Toungolou will be leading the Mass. They agree that this is their opportunity.
The Mass begins. The procession takes place, and the priest makes his way to the altar. As the opening song concludes, he lifts his hand with the priestly mantle and blesses the congregation in Tok Pisin:
“God i stap wantaim yupela.”
God be with you all.
The congregation responds:
“Wantaim yu na Agnella.”
And also with you and Agnella.
When Father Toungolou hears this, he is shocked. They have mentioned Agnella’s name—the very person he has been secretly seeing.
He realises that the relationship is no longer hidden.
Ashamed and caught completely off guard, he responds:
“Em tasol na misa blo mipla i pinis nau. Amen!”
Our Mass is now finished. Amen!
And the rest of the story, I do not know whether they got married or not.
We all burst out laughing.
My sundi, her parents, and I laugh together as the story brings the whole evening to life.
Before we know it, it is already around 9:30 PM.
Eventually, it is time for me to leave. My sundi and her parents take me back to HOX. We hug each other goodbye, and then she and her parents drive back home.
As I get out of the car, I think about the evening.
It is funny how something so simple can turn into such a good evening.
There is no restaurant, no special place, and no big plan. We simply buy some food, go into the kitchen, cook together, talk, laugh, eat with her parents, and enjoy ourselves.
I actually like this kind of time with my sundi.
I get to see her in a different setting. We are cooking, helping each other, trying things for the first time, talking about random things, and laughing over stories we have already told each other before.
Tonight is just one of those evenings that feels easy.
Nothing extraordinary happens.
We just spend time together.
And I enjoy that.

Bata Des