Eating Local in Nairobi

          Eating ‘local’ in Nairobi is a great experience for the more adventurous traveller. Or the very poor one. There's some good food on offer at every level. And I have eaten at every level of 'local' in Nairobi.

       If you have some money available and you enjoy meat - including goat and crocodile - catch a cab to the Carnivore, gorge yourself on their dinner and then party there afterwards. It's a legendary Nairobi thing to do.

      Of course, you can always go for pasta at Trattoria or a burger at Steers if you really have to. And then, of course, the kitchen at the Serena is always excellent. But prices are high by greater Nairobi standards. Sure, I liked Trattoria and it was a favourite of mine when I was sonko(a boss) and doing well in Nairobi.  Later, I only got to drink cappuccino there as a special treat!

      And, as a businessman, I did get to eat at the Serena a few times with the East African Association. This, also when I was sonko. The rest of the time, my varying fortunes took me to some great, less costly places.

      Probably the best 'bistro' type meal is at the Art Cafe at Westgate. Most dishes are excellent and the pastry chef is brilliant. Service is slow but a pleasure when you just want to hang out. It's worth the money.

     There are a number of places in Nairobi that serve very substantial portions of food at very good prices. The kitchens are clean and you won’t suffer any effects from eating at them. They will offer you a better experience than the restaurant at the hotel.

***

Somali and Ethiopian food is usually spicier than food from other of Kenya's border countries. Middle Eastern and Arabic influences are strongly in evidence.

     Get onto Kenyatta Avenue, heading downtown. As you get to the Stanley Hotel, on the corner of Kenyatta Avenue and Kimathi Street, look left (with the Stanley on your right). You will see a few turrets of the rather beautiful Jamia Mosque, behind the imposing façade of the Macmillan Library facing you. To the right, behind the mosque, you'll find the Al Yusra restaurant, a Somali establishment that serves a wide variety of Somali dishes. If you don't find it, you can always ask one of the Somalis hanging out at the mosque.

     Habesha is Ethiopian. The town branch of Habesha is very close to the Uhuru Highway but doesn’t suffer from noise or exhaust pollution. It serves the 'national food' of Ethiopia, which can only mean one thing: injera.

     Injera is a traditional Ethiopian staple made from fermented sorghum and is served with small portions of Ethiopian specialities. It costs around Ksh800 for a plate that will usually feed two people well. Enjoy eating with your hands.

     There is another Habesha on Argwings Khodek Road (near Yaya Centre) if you have time to relax after eating. It's a cool place to have a few drinks after a meal. But Ul Yusra is special because it is so authentically Somali. Even if you can't drink there.

***

Swahili food comprised some of the best dishes I ate in Nairobi and, of course, Mombasa. Eating at “Coast Dishes”, located at 'Coast Bus', is a treat and a rare Nairobi experience. Alternatively “Malindi Dishes” is better, I think. But Erica disagrees.

      Both Coast and Malindi Dishes are as 'local' as can be – Swahili - but give one access to the 'real' Nairobi like few other places do.

     Both restaurants are strictly halal and serve Swahili dishes, mild yellow curries and tikka dishes. Food is served from clean kitchens. Plates piled high with pilau or pishori¹ rice pass. They are topped with pieces of chicken or beef or goat or even vegan fare. The prices are very reasonable by Nairobi standards.

      To get there: If you are coming down Accra Road you will find Coast Dishes at the junction of River Road. Malindi Dishes is to your right, at the top of the first road on your right! Just ask. 

      I actually prefer Malindi Dishes for a few reasons: it is usually a little less cramped than Coast Dishes, there is music and there is a makeshift mosque out back. Malindi dishes also has a more decorative and pleasant eating environment. And the chapattis are flowing from the pan at the door.

       Around lunchtime, expect to share your table with people from anywhere. Choose from the menu or the buffet spread.

      Before eating you are brought a plastic basin over which you will wash as a waiter pours water steadily over your hands. Taarab music² or perhaps more fundamentally Muslim sounds may be heard gently through the sound system. The place is full of Muslims in traditional dress and ordinary street wear. And at 1pm, many of them will rise from their tables to join the throng of worshippers for prayers.

      But, aside from Muslims, you will also find Christians and other members of Kenya’s populace in hungry attendance, all wanting a full meal for half the price of what they’re used to paying uptown. And the food is good.

***

Kenya has a plain eating tradition that is only spiced up by Hindu or Swahili culinary influences. The rest is pretty plain. But there are a few really tasty dishes.

      Starting ‘uptown’ once again, one can eat at BJ’s Kitchen that is located near View Park Towers and the Alliance Francais off Loita Street. The restaurant serves traditional Kenyan food and more regular dishes like hamburgers and steak. Their tilapia is quite good and also the kienyeji, ndengu and chapatti.

       Heading downtown, on Kenyatta Avenue, Simmers is on your right, after the big blue I&M building on your left. Simmers does an excellent 'local' lunch. You will pay a little more to eat at Simmers than you might at strictly ‘downtown’ restaurants but it is probably worth it. They have a wide range of Kenyan dishes and accompaniments on offer during lunchtime and most are very good.

       Now you have to head a little more downtown to experience real Kenyan food.

The Highland Restaurant on ‘African Corner’ - where you get matatus to Westlands at most times of night and day - is a firm favourite of Nairobians. To get there, ask directions to the Nairobi Fire Station, stay on the opposite side of the road and heading out of town you will see Highland (in green) as you get to the corner. Between you and the restaurant you will also see a small but very busy matatu ‘stage’ in the little side street. Be careful that you don’t get run over by one of them when you cross the road to reach Highland. Also, don’t ask any of the matatu touts where the Highland is, because they will just try rushing you to “Westlands”.

       Highland serves all the dishes listed below, mostly at very reasonable prices. It can, however, can get uncomfortably full in the evenings as Nairobians meet, and wait for Nairobi’s interminable traffic jam to ease. In the evening, ask for any of the dishes I describe later. They are all quite good. Portions are substantial.

        If you are partial to something akin to an ‘English breakfast’, Highland serves a fairly close facsimile. However, you are not likely to find such a breakfast at many other local restaurants in town. Bacon is costly in Nairobi and not something that Nairobians ordinarily eat. The mandazi at Highland are cooked on-premises and are often still warm till around 10am. Mandazi na chai is worth having as a mid-morning snack at 45 bob.

       If the Highland is full, you might want to try the Roast House. This place is across Tom Mboya Street (the road that the Fire Station is on), across the traffic roundabout where all the matatus are, and over the road (passing the beginning of River Road on your right). Look for the Roast House sign, located quite high up on the opposite building. Be warned that the matatus on the traffic roundabout often park extremely close to each other and it can be like mastering a maze to the other side. But, never mind, you’ll survive it.

       Roast House was a favourite of mine for breakfast and in the mornings. They have a chef in the midst of the patrons who cooks eggs, omelettes and the like in situ. If you choose, you can stand there and have your egg dish cooked exactly as you like it! This is often necessary in Nairobi. Eggs are not a big thing.

       The local fare – for lunch and dinner - at Roast House is also quite good and priced similarly to Highland.  But the special feature of Roast House (actually the butcher next door) is the samoosas that appear on a choma stand outside from about 2pm. The samoosas are very fresh every day, and you are unlikely to suffer Nairobi stomach from eating them. They are not spicy but can help yourself to the kachumbari that is available, for free, in a stainless steel container on the table. The kachumbari is hot and one of the best I ever tasted in Nairobi. You are just welcome to help yourself to it and can even sit at the little table while you eat a samoosa. Street eating, Nairobi style!

       It is interesting that you seldom see Nairobians eating on the street at all and even when eating a samoosa will be inclined to hold it with a serviette ('tissue') and almost shyly peck at it on the sidewalk.

       The Kipepeo (Butterfly) Hotel on River Road serves a great Swahili chai tea and not a bad English breakfast by Nairobi standards for around Ksh400.

***

Nairobians perhaps eat more kuku na 'chipo' (chicken and chips) than anything else during lunch hours and on any given day you will find the multitude of chicken places on Moi Avenue filled beyond capacity. Because there is a high turnover of chickens, the birds are always fresh. But you may find that the chicken lacks much flavour. It might have something to do with what and how they are fed. I don’t know, but the chicken is healthy enough even if a little oily from being deep fried after roasting. I never suffered any stomach problems from Nairobi take-away chicken.

       There is a ‘chain’ of chicken outlets that is particularly good and renowned for their chips (or chipo as they are called in Sheng). These places have a blue sign outside advertising Fish and Chips but I have never seen a single fish at any of the branches. They go by the name of ‘Sonford’ on Moi Avenue, ‘Altona’ opposite the Hilton, or 'Nevada' on Tom Mboya. For kuku, chipo and a soda you will generally pay around Ksh200.  Sit with the Kenyans and rip a chicken to shreds.

       After Sonford, my favourite chicken outlet was the Red Robin, also on Moi Avenue but opposite the park, heading towards the verdant side of town (you’ll notice the difference between one side and the other immediately). Find Sonford, behind Nation Media House. Red Robin is on the same side as Sonford, but a little way out.

       There's another Red Robin towards the area called Bus Station but you're not likely to go that end of town. Don't get confused. Dot and I each erupted in our own particular way, thinking each was at the other branch.

       “I'm outside! Where are you?” she screamed.

       “I'm outside! Where are you?” I screamed louder.

We repeated this three times and needless to say, we didn't go home together that night.

       She's conning me I thought. She's probably with another guy.

       The particular delight of both branches of Red Robin is the really good chilli sauce they offer with their chicken. The sauce is kept in a little bucket next to the chicken counter and you are welcome to help yourself. The idea is to pour the chilli sauce over your chicken and then wrap the chicken up in the plastic sheet it is served on. Shake the chicken around a bit inside and then go eat at one of the counters. Somehow, the chilli gets quickly infused into the chicken and it is really delicious. Most chilli sauce in Nairobi is highly synthetic but not so at Red Robin where, I would venture, it's made by a Swahili.

***

Now, there is a Luo restaurant on Sheik Karume Road whose name I can’t remember. Heading down Accra Road and coming to River Road, take a right. Sheik Karume Road is on your right. Go up, and somewhere on your left, perhaps halfway up, is a restaurant with stairs leading up. It's the only restaurant on the left side, so you shouldn't have too much trouble finding it. The place serves really good tilapia, spinach and ugali for around Ksh180 and it's a treat!

***

At night, there are usually numerous choma stands to be found around town and feel free to eat any of the snacks from these. Note, however, that Kenyan beef is often quite tough, from the long distances the Maasai herders take them to find grazing. But if you are resident in an apartment and choose to cook, the meat found at the supermarkets, while expensive, is probably more what you are used to in terms of tenderness and texture.

       Often it’s fine to eat kebabs and sausages from the choma stands but I cannot vouch for the quality of meat in the samoosas, other than at Roast House. I once ate a samoosa from a sidewalk choma stand and suffered so much I could not leave the house for two days! The samoosas at clubs might all be in the same order, so be careful.

       They are not always easy to find, but during the day and early evening you will often find ‘trailers’ downtown that carry fresh whole fruits that will be cut up, almost to order, for you to enjoy a fruit salad on the sidewalk. On Duruma Road (one street below River Road) there is usually a trailer or two round lunchtime and they sell fresh cut fruit salad for around Ksh60, served in a clean plastic bowl with spoon. Just walk a bit on Duruma Road between 12pm and 1pm and you will usually find one. 
      Finally, if you are spending a late night at Madhouse, you can enjoy an ‘omelette’ Nairobi style and tea or coffee on the sidewalk for 60 bob. Ask for dhania (coriander leaves) to go with your omelet and pili-pili if they have it. When they cook the omelette with bread together, or pamoja, it is particularly good. Their tea is better than their coffee. 

This reminds me: if you like to eat fried eggs in the morning, they will be available at diners and restaurants, but you will have to specify how you want them cooked. Most often you will get a rough omelette or an egg that looks like it was boiled before it was fried. And the colour of the yolk is often not much different from the white; to do with the what they're fed, evidently. Ova probably don't thrive on left-over maize meal.

But Kenya is not big on fried eggs. It's often best just to ask for the egg to be cooked pamoja (together) with mandazi. This way of cooking eggs is usually understood and is essentially French toast, Kenya style. You can say,

“Pika mayai na mandazi pamoja”.

***

Glossary of Kenyan Foods and Dishes

I suppose it would be customary to give the English term first, followed by the Swahili but because some of the dishes and side orders need just a little explanation, I have given the Swahili terms first. I suppose, if you are looking at a menu, in most instances you will get an English version anyway, but if you are ordering from more ‘local’ restaurant, the dish will probably appear in vernacular only.

Main dishes

Githeri Main dish made with beans and maize (corn)

Maharagwe Main dish made from beans

Matoke Main dish made from stewed green bananas and potato

Ndengu Main dish made from green lentils

Pilau Main dish of pilau rice usually mixed with a small portion of meat

Snacks and accompaniments

Chapatti Indian fried flat ‘bread’

Mshikaki A kebab

Samoosa Indian meat-filled pastry snack

Smokie Brand name for small smoked sausages, often sold on the street

Rice

Mchele Plain rice

Pilau Dish made from pishori rice

Pishori Basmati rice

Cooking styles

Choma Flame grilled

Fry Used instead of the term ‘fried’

Boil Used instead of the term ‘boiled’

Meats & fish

Kuku Chicken

Ngombe Beef

Matumbo Stomach (entrails) of a cow

Mbuzi Goat

Tilapia Fresh water fish from Lake Victoria

Perch Fresh water fish from Lake Victoria

Red snapper Salt water fish from Mombasa

Side Orders

Kienyeji Side order made from mashed peas and corn

Sukuma Leaf of a wild plant, chopped and served like spinach

Ugali Maize meal (the staple that accompanies most meals in Africa)

Mboga (vegetable) Usually refers to cabbage, sukuma or spinach

Pili-pili Chilli peppers

Mchuzi/soupo Sauce

Kachumbari Finely chopped tomato and onion, sometimes with chilli

Beverages & Basics

Chai Tea

Kahawa Coffee

Maji Water

Maziwa Milk

Sukari Sugar

Chumvi Salt

Masala Indian spices (in Tea or with chips)

Vegetables

Kitunguu Onion

Nyanya Tomato

Kiazi/Waluu Potato

Mchicha Spinach

At Breakfast

Mayai Egg

Mkate Bread (sometimes also called 'toast')

Mandazi Fried bread snack eaten at breakfast or as a snack

Mahamri A Swahili mandazi (usually slightly spicy)

Uji Thin porridge made from sorghum, served with lemon juice

Crockery & cutlery

Kikombe Cup

Kioo Glass

Kisu Knife

Uma Fork

Sahani Plate

Kisahani Saucer

Sufuria Saucepan

Jiko Usually refers to coal- or wood-burning stove

Meko Usually refers to a gas stove

Comments, Compliments & Commands

Ni tamu Is ‘sweet’/tasty

Ni tosha Is sufficient

Nime shiba I am satisfied / have had enough

Patie … Give me … (Considered impolite in Mombasa)

Leta³ Bring …

Pika Cook

Tupike We cook

Kula Eat

Chakula Food

-oOo-

1. Basmati.

2. The music of ‘Coast’.

3. Tafadhali means ‘please’ but is seldom used, perhaps because it has three syllables! In Nairobi it’s usually used in the sense of “PuhLeeeeze, I ask you!”

A guide to khat/miraa in Kenya (well, Nairobi mainly)

For some travellers, a Nairobi safari wouldn't be complete without at least one night of chewing khat (miraa). Kenya is very civilised in that it's entirely legal to get high on this African cocaine and it's a pastime that a great many Nairobians enjoy over the weekend. Dukas (shops) selling fresh miraa are spread throughout downtown Nairobi and there are quite a few in Westlands too. I used to wonder what the smell at Woodlands Place was. It smelled to me like South African 'biltong'. Like pickled meat. Then I got the smell when I was downtown, as they were unpacking. Then I knew.

 

Miraa has the same active ingredient as the drug cat (cathenone), but in much smaller quantities. A miraa session therefore usually involves a good few hours of ruminating. The active ingredient acts as an aphrodisiac but not exactly a male performance enhancer. But reports vary and I suspect if you can properly focus your mind it might be okay, sexually speaking. But usually you are so far away that sex seems unimportant.

The substance is grown in Meru and Maua mostly and is a cash crop that has made many a millionaire. It comes from an ugly gnarled tree. The crop is precious. They call it green gold.

There are four or so main varieties, and the potency of the miraa plant diminishes rapidly after it has been harvested. If you spend a little time in Nanyuki you may see three-ton pickups loaded with 10 tons of miraa racing through the town, on the way to Wilson Airport in Nairobi. The pick-ups sway under the load and nothing gets in their way. Daily flights from Wilson to Somalia and England put huge amounts of money into the economy of Meru and Maua but you'll never see much evidence of it.

The most common response to a cheek full of well-chewed miraa, or khat, is absolute silence. The chewer gets kinda introspective and seems incapable of saying much – or anything at all - for a few hours at least. The ruminator sits still, with a slightly surprised look spread across his face.

The second response (thankfully, less common) is that the chewer becomes an instant and irrepressible 'story-teller' and waxes non-stop, for hours on end, about his life, its general condition and then, perhaps inevitably, about the inevitability of Kenyan politics.

The two responses are, of course, highly complementary, with one large group sitting hakuna story, listening (feigning a deaf-mute condition), while one or two of their number rambles on in solo mode, stopping only to pop another ground-nut-accompaniment, or piece of sweet Big-G chewing gum into his mouth. These, to alleviate the khat’s bitter flavour.

In downtown Nairobi there is no shortage of miraa sellers (and certainly no shortage of consumers). Every few doors, the full length and breadth of the downtown streets, there is a ‘duka la miraa’ (miraa shop) that usually moonlights also as a general ‘kiosk’ (selling sodas, sigara, maji na mandazi) or a ‘wine and spirit’ merchant, selling lots of Kenya Cane or Kenya King. Particularly on a Friday afternoon, one will see literally hundreds of one-kilo packets of miraa, fresh from Meru, and wrapped neatly in fresh banana leaves, being unloaded from any number of trailers or pick-ups. And the number of buyers well-exceeds the number of packs being unfurled. Chewing miraa is more than a national pastime among the workers of Kenya – it amounts to an obsession.

Competition is stiff between the various miraa shops and their daily custom is dependent, obviously, on the quality of product being sold. Generally the product sells fast, and only here and there you will see an unhappy customer complaining about the low grade of the narcotic being sold, or perhaps moaning that the kilo seems to have mysteriously diminished in volume! For the rest, it’s a matter of buying one’s stash and then finding a decent place to chew.

For many, chewing will start on a Friday afternoon and might end a day-and-a-half later, on Sunday morning. Abstinence from Sunday morning onwards is somewhat forced - or else the chewer is unlikely to get any sleep before work starts on Monday. Miraa is often referred to as ‘African Cocaine’ and it shares many of the properties of its Andean counterpart.

While there are lots of miraa ‘dukas’ (shops), there are far fewer 'chewing taverns', if I may call them that. I mention this because, while miraa chewing is not particularly unacceptable as a social pastime, it is also not condoned as an activity that can be indulged anywhere or everywhere.

Interestingly, in Tanzania, miraa is a strongly prohibited substance, while the smoking of marijuana tends to be tolerated. In Kenya, on the other hand, miraa is completely legal and marijuana smoking tends to be indulged in for fear of death (well, almost).

If you buy miraa, you cannot simply stop at any spot to indulge your narcotic fancy. Rather, you have to find a pub or club that allows such, or you have to buy from a shop where there is also place to chew. 

Klub House, aka K1, on Museum Hill, is nice. Good music too. 

Genge’s got the gangsta edge, but it doesn’t question the system

Published in The East African, Sunday, January 3, 2010

When I first arrived in Kenya, in late 2008 from South Africa, I didn’t know my “bongo” from my “mambo.” I thought, “They are both styles of music”... Sindio? But I learned the difference quickly, through my love of music and radio. So there I was, endlessly fine-tuning the wireless to the myriad stations that congest Nairobi’s airwaves.

I started listening to Classic FM and Kiss FM, morning and evening, and Capital late at night. I got good politics from Caroline Mutoko and a laugh or two from Larry Asego both of Kiss FM. I heard some fantastic late night mixes on Capital and I thought that Nairobi’s dedicated reggae station, Metro FM was way cool too.

The first “bongo flava” track I ever heard was Ali Kiba’s “Macmugo.” I loved the simple beauty of the song, and the poetic sound of the Tanzanian Kiswahili. The fact that I could discern “South Africa” within the lyrics increased my love for the song too … I downloaded the ringtone.

Since then, I have picked up Kiswahili, kidogo, and have enjoyed Bongo flava coming at me from everywhere: In restaurants, bars and clubs, blaring from matatus and kicking from kiosks. It is light, joyous music. It is sweet, and speaks of love and romance; yearnings of the heart. It is both witness and testimony to the fabled “good heart” of the East African people.

Until now, East Africa has enjoyed the sole franchise on Bongo. The songs have been done exclusively in Kiswahili and the productions have been strictly East African. But there are some new kids on the Bongo block...

Nigerian musicians are suddenly doing Bongo. And they’re doing it better than the Tanzanians. Their sound is much cooler than Tanzanian and Kenyan Bongo. They have raised the bar. Their videos have moved away from the ghetto and into the bling — quite refreshing after the endless singing scenes set in Dar es Salaam. This is something East Africa needs to watch out for in both senses, and with the Nigerians doing Bongo in English, they are inviting all of Anglophone West Africa to “buy Bongo.” That is one large market.

So, East African musicians probably need to listen to Bongo flava from Nigeria if they want to see bigger sales in future (and dealing with piracy will probably help a bit too).

But Bongo tunes from Tanzania are in a class of their own. There’s something soft in Tanzanian Kiswahili that the Kenyan version and Kenyan English fail to match. But then, there is something strong in Nairobi Sheng (slang) that the Tanzanian tongue and English fail to match as well...

If Bongo speaks to the heart, Kenya’s Genge music speaks the mind of a disenchanted youth ...

The sound of Genge, sung in Nairobi Sheng, is superbly suited to this hard, unforgiving city. Bongo is soft. Genge is hard. Very hard. And Genge is the genre with which Nairobi may yet make its mark on African music. Genge is Nairobi, just like gangsta came from East Central LA. These are not coincidences. They are the realities from which “ghetto” creativity stems.

So I have recently taken to a diet of Ghetto Radio and late-night Capital. And I have heard some startling music, made right here in Nairobi. I understand Kiswahili enough now to discern the lyrics, but it’s the sheer power of the Genge rhyming slang — whether you understand it or not — that is so potent.

Genge is clever. It is witty. It is irreverent. One song rhymes the virtues of Nairobi’s take-away chickens (read “chicks”). Another, the hazards of Nairobi streets. The genre is edgy, and is looking hard at local life. I mean, Jua Cali is HOT. The first time I heard him, I stopped in my tracks. All I could say was:

“Mambo mbaaaaaaaaaya!” (Slang for ‘This is cool’).

But so far, even with Genge’s realism, not much of it seriously questions the social order. So here’s a trend I would like to see: Genge lyrics that address real issues facing Kenya. There will be some important listening next year if Genge stops skirting and deals overtly with corruption, poverty, unemployment and a despised government. Surely, this is some of what “urban” genres should be about. And even if radio avoids any conflagration, we know that Nairobi’s music pirates will disseminate the message, haraka sana!

Coming from a background of “resistance music” in South Africa, I know what a powerful force for change music can be. Nothing can resist a force whose time has come. And Kenya’s time has come. One way of making the necessary changes known can be through Genge.

Sheng Kali

I first discovered the theory of ‘semiotics’ during my post-graduate studies. The discovery was a great boon to my academic career. It let me get away with murder!

Let me explain:

‘Semiotics’ says that all words have two aspects: The first is that they have no precise meaning of their own;  a word is always a ‘metaphor‘. The second is that the ’metaphors’ vary (with place and time).

So, simply, words have no ‘meaning’ of their own. Only the ‘reader’ can create meaning from a word. For example, Chinese means nothing until you learn Chinese. Yes?  The ‘meaning’ of a word therefore exists in the mind of ‘the reader’ not in ‘the word’. 

And, obviously, readers vary.  Therefore, … meanings vary.

My strategic use of these two concepts allowed me to interpret essay topics in a variety of ways and, as long as I skirted the real issues with a bit of semiotic claptrap, there was not much any lecturer could say about it. As I said, I got away with murder. However, I also earned a bad note in my academic record for my troubles. But that’s another story …

Putting this sad academic history aside for a moment, let me regale you with a lovely example of the semiotic thesis in action. It’s an example from Nairobi Sheng – the slang, street Kiswahili of this city - and it (mainly) concerns the term “jua kali”.

The term literally means “hot sun” and can be used as an exclamation of outside temperatures in Nairobi:

“Jua kaaaaaaali!” [as in, “Sheesh, the sun is hot today”].

In this case, the truth of your comment might be affirmed by:

“Saaaaaaaaana!” [very!]

[Accompanied by a little laugh.]

Now the metaphor starts to shift:  Because the local metal foundries and informal furniture factories are usually situated in roadside sheds, and the work is largely done in the hot sun, employment in the informal sector has become known as “jua kali”. If you work in the ‘informal sector’ anywhere, you describe your work as “jua kali” … even if you are forging US Dollars in a dark basement.  Isn’t that cool?

Now, because of the range of occupations associated with the ‘informal sector’, the term has gained overtones of being ‘home-made’ and perhaps a bit suspect. In this sense, one would differentiate the work of someone considered a ‘fundi’ (Kiswahili for ‘expert’) from the work of ‘jua kali’ (in this sense, ‘an amateur’).

[Accompanied by a slight shrug, as in: “Well, you choose who you want to do the job”.]

Ruth’s brother, Steven, showed me his two-year-old USB Flash Drive one day. It was wrapped so severely in insulation tape that it had started to become round. His comment, with the usual dry wit, was that his repairs over the years have been a bit ‘jua kali’.

Over the last few months, Kenya’s hard-core ‘street rap’, called Genge, has been dominated by an artist calling himself  ‘Jua Kali’. His meaning of the term is most likely ‘home-made’, more akin to ‘home-grown’ talent.  Just another addition to the lexicon of the term.

The term ‘kali’, too, has a few meanings in local use. In Sheng, it can mean ‘hot’ as in ‘overt sexuality’. It can mean ‘hot’ as in cha’ngaa (moonshine). It can mean ‘hot’ as in ‘hot tempered’ (as in Somalis).  These uses are all common.  Hard drugs (and strong medicine) are both ’dawa kali’.  But, my sources tell me, if you’re prone to chemical abuse you are likely to earn the moniker of being kidogo “chemi-kali”!  I love it.

And, as always in Kiswahili, it is less about the word itself than how you say it:

“Kaaaaaaaaali ………. !!!

………………..

…………..

…….

“ ………………….Saaaaaaaaaaana!!!”

… is used like the use of “Mambo Mbaya” and the rejoinder, "Sana”, that I rejoiced some time ago (see prior blog). It’s a mutual affirmation of how totally ‘wicked’ the situation is.

Ever beautiful, ever dynamic, the people play with their shared language and make it new. On the streets of Nairobi Kiswahili mutates into a joyous, shared communication, across tribe and ethnicity. The Swahili language takes on a new, urban flava. The flava is Sheng. And when your use of Sheng has ‘an edge’, it’s “Sheng kaaaaali!”.

The language is hip and happening.  From what I know (which is very little), it is a patois that is evolving very fast. Hip mums, trying to stay ‘with it’,  use the terms all messed up when talking to their teenage daughters.

They land up using adjectives where nouns should be!

[accompanied by a slightly embarrassed teenage giggle]

Amani na upendo

B-)

Clean Water Exhaustion

Like much of Africa, Kenya has been experiencing severe drought. In areas to the north, like Garissa near the Somali border, and the regions of Samburu and Lake Turkana, even the camels have been dying from dehydration! The recent ‘short rains’ have relieved some of the pressure, but the drought is by no means broken.

In Nairobi, the effect of the drought has been the introduction of water rationing on a well-regulated, now-you-have-it-now-you-don’t basis. One minute you hear water gurgling through the pipes … next minute you’re carrying a bucket of water to flush the loo. Plastics companies have made a fortune through the manufacture and sale of storage tanks that stand everywhere in peoples’ houses. And when it’s been a-gurgling there’s a massive rush for everyone to fill up their tanks. One wonders if the rationing has any effect at all with the amounts that are drawn when there IS water.

Be that as it may, the rationing has heralded some quite discomfiting times. There have been days when some areas have been devoid of the sacred maji for more than two days at a stretch! And water needs treatment with Water Guard to prevent bacterial outbreaks while it stands stagnant in the house. Thankfully, PSI (Population Services International) from the US, sponsors much of the cost of the water treatment and it can be obtained for 20 bob a bottle at most small outlets.

Of course, many Kenyans can’t afford even the 20 bob and have had to suffer as a result. Several (thankfully, small) outbreaks of cholera have been experienced. Maybe 100 people have died. Many of them have been children.

Until recently, the outbreaks have been quite mystifying, affecting only small parts of a particular community or perhaps just one small residential area. But, after a while, the source of these isolated occurrences became clearer.

Let me explain as best I can …

There are three main types of tanker trucks seen in Nairobi. The first is the common-garden petrol tanker that takes petrol, paraffin and other flammable, petro-chemical products from Mombasa all the way through to the Ugandan capitol of Kampala or even Kigali, in Rwanda. Using what are sometimes extremely bad roads, these tankers are prone to capsize. Kenyans are incinerated quite regularly when the liquid cargo catches alight as scores of villagers busily fill their buckets from the tanker’s prostrate hull.

Now, because of the drought, it has become common to see ‘water tankers’ on the roads. These blue-painted behemoths bear the legend ‘Clean Water’, emblazoned in white on their sides. They are charged with delivering maji to houses, hotels, commercial areas and residential ‘estates’. And along Ngong Road, there is something of a Tanker-Stop where 20 or more of these tankers can be seen at any one time, waiting for the call to action.

Then there is the third type of tanker: the ‘exhaust tanker’. Because water-borne sewage systems are uncommon in Nairobi, septic tanks require emptying, and residential estates (what the US calls ‘projects’) have to rely on ‘exhaust tankers’ to come and relieve the build-up of human waste and effluents. Also along Ngong Road, one sees these exhaust tankers parked in their plenty too. Many of them carry the charming legend of ‘Honey Sucker’ emblazoned on the side. These tankers are painted … you guessed it … brown.

But, lo-and-behold, there has been the recent, anomalous emergence of a new style of tanker: ‘the hybrid’. This style of tanker is two-tone. It has a freshly painted blue tank that says, like all the others, ‘Clean Water’. However, the tank itself stands on a chassis and frame that is suspiciously BROWN …!

You work it out!

Ever-keen to make a buck where possible, it seems that many of the tanker owners have resorted to what Kenyans are wont to call ‘unscrupulous’ business practices. It’s amazing what a bucket of blue paint can do for an erstwhile Honey Sucker’s business!

I’m just glad that it wasn’t my child that fell victim to the stuff of the two-tone tanker!

With love.

B-)

Chewing, travelling and muttering

Mirraa, miraa on the floor

The effects are two …

The most common response to a cheek full of well-chewed miraa, or khat, is absolute silence. The chewer gets kinda introspective and seems incapable of saying much – or anything at all - for a few hours at least. The imbiber sits still, with a slightly surprised look spread across his face – a look that South Africans would likely call that of "thinking too much".

The second response (thankfully, less common) is that the chewer becomes an instant and irrepressible 'story-teller' and waxes non-stop, for hours on end, about his life, its general condition and then, perhaps inevitably, about the inevitability of Kenyan politics.

The two responses are, of course, highly complimentary, with one large group sitting hakuna story, listening (feigning a deaf-mute condition), while one or two of their number rambles on in solo mode, stopping only to pop another ground-nut-accompaniment, or piece of sweet Big-G chewing gum into his mouth. These, to alleviate the khat’s bitter flavour.

In downtown Nairobi there is no shortage of miraa sellers (and certainly no shortage of consumers). Every few doors, the full length and breadth of the downtown streets, there is a ‘duka la miraa’ (miraa shop) that usually moonlights also as a general ‘kiosk’ (selling sodas, sigara, maji and mandazi) or a ‘wine and spirit’ merchant, selling lots of Kenya Cane or Kenya King (hard-core white spirits, alternatively called cane and gin, but probably closer to a neutral ‘witblitz’ or 'moonshine' than anything else).

Particularly on a Friday afternoon, one will see literally hundreds of one-kilo packets of miraa, fresh from Meru, and wrapped neatly in fresh banana leaves, being unloaded from any number of trailers or one-ton pick-ups. And the number of buyers well-exceeds the number of packs being unfurled. Chewing miraa is more than a national pastime among the workers of Kenya – it amounts to an obsession (or perhaps a national addiction!).

Competition is stiff between the various miraa shops and their daily custom is dependent, obviously, on the quality of product being sold. Generally the product sells fast, and only here and there you will see an unhappy customer complaining about the low grade of the narcotic being sold, or perhaps moaning that the kilo seems to have mysteriously lost some of its volume! For the rest, it’s a matter of buying one’s stash and then finding a decent place to chew. For many, chewing will start on a Friday afternoon and might end a day-and-a-half later, on Sunday morning. Abstinence from Sunday morning onwards is somewhat forced - or else the chewer is unlikely to get any sleep before work starts on Monday. Miraa is often referred to as ‘African Cocaine’ and it shares many of the properties of its Andean counterpart.

While there are lots of miraa ‘dukas’ (shops), there are far fewer 'chewing taverns', if I may call them that. I mention this because, while miraa chewing is not particularly unacceptable as a social pastime (notably among the working classes), it is also not condoned as an activity that can be indulged anywhere or everywhere. Interestingly, in Tanzania, miraa is a strongly prohibited substance, while the smoking of marijuana tends to be tolerated. In Kenya, on the other hand, miraa is completely legal and marijuana smoking tends to be indulged in for fear of death (well, almost). Anyway, if you buy miraa, you cannot simply stop at any spot to indulge your narcotic fancy. Rather, you have to find a pub or club that allows such, or you have to buy from a shop where there is also place to chew.

Not always though …

One particularly popular downtown miraa seller is on Duruma Road, in the area called "Coast Bus" - the terminus for the luxury buses that ply the route to and from Mombasa and Malindi. Recently, the miraa sold at this duka has tended to be 'halele', comprising long stalks of soft, almost-leafless miraa that is chewed right up to the short, hard piece at halele's-end. Unlike the miraa seller over the road, which sports a chewing ‘space’ - not much more than a simple, rough-hewn corridor - this particular duka la miraa is merely a one-meter-wide sidewalk shop-front.

Having a very popular 'brand', the plentiful patrons have, of late, been lining the sidewalk, sitting on stairs and shop window ledges, chewing pretty much everywhere on the street. This style of chewing would not be tolerated in uptown areas but the patrons can get away with it here. The result is that the sidewalk has, of late, become a carpet of the short end-pieces.

A new friend of mine – an ex-‘Coastarian’ Swahili, devout Muslim and permanent downtown hotel resident - Hakim, tells me the following story:

Coming back from prayers last Friday night at the Jamia Mosque - a rather beautiful building at the centre of Nairobi - he wanted to cross the street to avoid the throng of miraa junkies… Looking right (or was it left?) before stepping off the sidewalk, he failed to notice the thick pile of stalks that were about to be felt (briefly) under his feet. These short, hard sticks of miraa can act somewhat like little ball-bearings …

The next moment, Hakim had his right foot in the street while his left was still on the sidewalk, three steps up (downtown sidewalks vary in their height off street level).

Uncomfortable as his stretched tendons now were, he regained his composure (despite his embarrassment and rage) and stormed to the little wire-fronted window where the miraa was being sold. Here he found a sheepish Somali sitting with a puffy cheekful, a shiny face, and a handful of Hundred Shilling notes in his hand.

Hakim vented his justifiable anger and told the shiny Somali fella that the habits of his halele patrons were particularly uncool and, if the stalk-throwing were to persist, Hakim was going to call the local constabulary to put an end to it all. The Somali was evidently suitably contrite and promised to put a stop to the offensive behaviour of his patrons, by whatever means he could.

The last time I passed this duka, on my way uptown the other night, I saw that the patrons have each been issued with a little cardboard box and it’s now these cartons that litter the sidewalk, rather than the stalks of miraa. Hakim tells me that the patrons have also been issued with strict instructions to use the boxes and there should be “no more miraa on the floor".

Being lighter, and not so easy to throw into the boxes, it is now only the red and yellow Big-G wrappers that litter the sidewalk on a Friday night!

And they are many.


Una enda wapi? (you are going to where?)

Downtown Nairobi is the ‘original’ Nairobi, built between the turn of the last century and the end of the Deco era. The buildings that line the river (that same river that once had Nairobi named ‘place of clear waters’) feature an amazing array of architectural styles, from Arabic, through Hindu, to Colonial and classic Deco, in a hodge-podge of aan-mekaar structures. But it’s the small ‘kiosks’ and variety of dukas that catch ones attention initially and you have to look just a little skyward to get a glimpse of what the former glory of a bygone era might have been. Quite stunning, actually.

But the best part of Bus Station (as it is sometimes called) comprises those features for which it gains its informal name:

The intersection between Accra Road and Duruma Road is known as ‘Coast Bus’ and is the terminus for coaches going (mainly) to Mombasa. Luxury buses, in various states of repair, line the streets. Some of the transport services have buses that leave every hour, on the hour, ten hours a day. Many of the buses are at least partly filled by Muslims, at various levels of fundamentalism, making their pilgrimage back to Mombasa. Some of the pilgrims are dressed entirely in the black abaya (often replete with burka) while others are dressed in long floral dresses, with only the scarf betraying their religious affiliation. Lately - now approaching the European summer - one is seeing more and more backpack-bearing mZungu couples, notable for the slightly dazed – or is it amazed – looks on their faces. (Last week there was a particularly successful music festival at the coast – the first of its kind in Mombasa – which accounted for at least some of the waZungu(pl.)).

The buses are filled quickly by ‘touts’ who are intent on recruiting anyone who happens to be traversing the streets. As you pass by – and particularly if you’re white - you are likely to be asked a very simple question, in a slightly plaintive tone: “Mombasa?”

I got used to supplying a simple reply (in Swahili, to avoid any further harassment):

“Si leo, asante” (not today, thanks),

to which the reply is often:

“Sawa, kesho” (OK, tomorrow).

(Caucasian advisory: In uptown Nairobi, if you’re white, you have to avoid looking regular taxi-cab drivers in the eye or else you’ll spend your day saying “no thanks” to the incessant plea of “Taxi…?”. The Toyota Corollas and Coronas stand everywhere with their drivers predating on your wandering gaze. And, by the way, Nairobi probably has as many Toyotas as Tokyo. In all seriousness, I would hazard a guess that four out of every five vehicles in Nairobi is a Toyota and, incidentally, they are a LOT better made than the ones I have encountered back home).

Just down the road from 'Coast Bus' is the area devoted to journeys to-and-from ‘Kamba-land’, somewhere between the coast and the capitol. And just down the road from this, again, is an area given to buses that ply the route past the Kenyan mountains, via Eldoret, to the lake-side Luo haven of Kisumu, and then on to Kampala.

The energy in this area – night and day – is quite astounding and if ever there’s a hint that the area is ‘dangerous’ to walk at night, this is quickly negated by the fact that there’s so much action on the streets that a mugging will generally be hard to come by. The range and speed of the frenetic to-ing-and-fro-ing gives one the feeling of a perpetual African market. During the day, the only real danger you face is the possibility of being nudged by a matatu. But even that is very rare ... and certainly not a mortal threat.

The restaurants, diners and lay eating houses that line the sidewalks of Coast Bus (mainly) are all strictly halaal and serve mild yellow curries in the Malaysian style. Biryanis and other mild curries are served from impeccably clean kitchens, with plates piled high with pilau or pishoti (basmati) rice and topped with pieces of chicken or beef (perhaps with a chapatti on the side). The prices are very reasonable (being ‘downtown’ Nairobi as opposed to ‘tourist’ Nairobi) and a substantial plate of food will cost you between 150 and 250 Shillings (R17 – R30) - which is very cheap by Nairobi standards.

In these restaurants, before you start eating, you are brought a plastic basin over which you will wash and a waiter will pour water steadily over your hands as you soap and rinse. Taarab music (the music of ‘Coast’ that doesn’t seem to feature anything but an endless verse), and more fundamentally Muslim sounds, come at you gently through the sound system. The place is full of Muslims in a variety of styles. And at 1pm, many of them will be seen rising from their tables to join the throng of worshippers in the makeshift mosque out back,

But there are also Christians and members of the general Kenya populace in hungry attendance, all wanting a full meal for half the price of what they’re used to paying uptown. “Malindi Dishes”, just off River Road, is particularly good, by the way.

Accra Road, running down from the Kenya National Archive to the river, is lined with matatus that do regular long-haul shuttle services. Fares range from Ksh140 (R160) to Ksh280 (R320) for most trips ‘up-country’. These matatus carry both overnight visitors and day trippers into town on a very regular basis. And there are plenty of commuters who travel something like 160km, or more, a day, just to get to their place of work! The more expensive transportation comprises matatus that have been customized to take less than the allotted 14 passengers. They might carry 7 or 10 passengers, with slightly wider seats in fewer rows. These vehicles usually feature the most hideous heavy, over-adorned Arabic-style curtains, perhaps reminiscent of an old tea-room cinema that didn’t change its décor since the 1940’s.

In this part of Nairobi, just about everyone seems to be going somewhere in a hurry, except perhaps the policemen, with their AK47’s, who always seem to be going nowhere slowly. What is really amazing is the mix of people and cultures that one sees down this end of town. Nairobi Muslims, wearing pillar-box hats vie for sidewalk space with women in the latest chic hairstyle, who vie with somewhat belligerent trailer-pushers in broken sneakers and torn jeans, who vie again with abaya-clad women from Coast.

Recently, coming back from visiting Hakim, I was heading uptown again when I was faced with a sight that came straight out of a re-run of Laurence of Arabia:

There were six guys in all. They were heavily laden with traditional-looking backpack-type things and had equipment of various descriptions hanging from every pouch, pocket and Velcro-clasped loop in sight. The two at the back were carrying between them what seemed to be tent poles, narrowly avoiding passing pedestrians - but causing mayhem among the Nairobians that always seem blithely to be crossing ones path.

The truly striking feature of the troupe was the heavy turbans they were all wearing. In a range of beautiful pastel colours, the turbans extended almost beyond the width of their shoulders (almost). A handsome bunch of guys, their facial features and tone of skin showing they were clearly from up-North somewhere. Were they looking for a bus to the Ugandan border, from where they might catch another bus to the Sudan, Niger or Mali? Or perhaps they were going somewhere towards the centre of the Sahara?

I could only guess from their appearance they were Tuareg nomads of some sort, looking for some friendly place to pitch a tent, to cook a meal or perhaps to smoke a shisha (a traditional pipe for smoking tobacco and/or hashish)!

It was a truly wonderful sight to see on a crowded, downtown Nairobi street. And no-one seemed really to notice them at all. They just walked-on-by, with the occasional Nairobian stopping just short of decapitation as he tried a forty-five-degree foray between the two at the back. (In Nairobi you walk as you drive – with a particular eye out for the random, unpredictable movement of the one in front).

But such is the cross-cultural melting pot of Nairobi that the Tuaregs attracted no particular attention! Everyone was just going about their daily business with not much of a thought for the nomads among them.


An extended ninety minutes

I was traveling out of Nairobi along Ngong Road recently when I witnessed a football match in progress, on a particularly lush green field. The standing rules of football had been stretched somewhat and there were easily twenty players, of both genders (as seems to be something of a norm in Kenya), on each side. The field was full, kabisa, with yellow and green jerseys. The game was lively, with a lot of screaming and shouting going on.

I was going to a meeting a few kilometers up from the field, in an area called “Racecourse” (not surprisingly, because that is where Nairobi’s equestrian racecourse is found). My meeting didn’t last very long and quite soon I was on my way back down Ngong Road - back towards town. I thought the football match quite a sight and as I passed, I looked again towards the field where it was being played.

The game had mysteriously stopped … the sidelines were peppered with players, sitting in various groups, talking to each other. Here and there I could see some players sitting on their own, heads bowed in solitary silence. The joviality of the previous scene of the soccer was clearly absent. From the little I could see the mood was definitely disconsolate.

Why the sudden halt? Why the sullen looks of misery on the faces I could see?

I scoured the landscape for clues as to possible causes …

And then I saw ‘it’.

At the far end of the field, some distance away, I made out the red clothed figure of a Maasai herdsman leaning on his staff. All around him were the brown and black shapes of perhaps twenty cows that seemed intent at reducing the lush, long grass to little more than stubble.

For the herder, the situation was one of relaxed ease. He wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry and neither were his languid ruminants. He was chilled in the extreme, leaning his chin on his staff and looking on. For the now-semi-retired football players the mood was not quite the same. Relative to the herder there was an almost palpable being severely pissed off.

But in Ngong it’s the “Maasai Rules” that govern most things, not just the conduct of football. And if it be that the cows are hungry for lush green grass and they find your pitch, you have simply no choice but to suspend play until the cows are done with their temporary role as groundsmen.

In Nairobi, goats are seen to wander around almost any place in their slightly skittish mode. But cows – they’re another thing completely.

I was just passing by, so I didn’t see, but I would venture a guess that it may have been quite some time before play in this particular game got to resume.


End piece

It’s the range of people, doing different things, and the cross of cultures from all over East Africa, that gives Nairobi a very particular flavour. From the Maasai couple I saw the other day, fully adorned from head to toe in beadwork, headdresses, necklaces, and earrings - set against red-and-purple swathes of Maasai blanketry (with their child dressed in jeans and t-shirt) - to the Tuareg nomads I have described above, Nairobi is very definitely the cultural melting pot of East Africa.

People are passing through Nairobi at an amazing rate, with amazing frequency; some just staying long enough to walk from the Kampala bus terminus to a ‘Coast Bus’; others perhaps staying long enough to try and find their fortune in this notably ‘hard’ and unforgiving city. The refugees; they are many, and growing. Those from the Sudan and Somalia seem to be finding their place here, while others might be struggling to do the same.

People pass through and people stay; each with his or her particular ‘mission’, undisclosed to the next person. You just have to sit in a ‘local’, downtown restaurant (one with street frontage) for a half hour to witness the sheer range and magnitude of visitation to this exciting city … It is ‘cosmopolitan’, in an African sense, beyond anything you will see elsewhere. And, for me at least, it’s an ongoing case of “watch. And learn”.

As ALWAYS, brothers and sisters, peace and love to you all.

Amani na mapenzi,

B-)