Traditional Woman
There’s something very satisfying about cooking chicken pilau for your family members. Even though i am miles away from the nuclear, i went back to the days of Royco and Bizari this week.
I began the break swearing off any language native to the land i reside in now. Maybe i was tired of the nasal twang, or the constant display of noodles at the deli line this past semester. Regardless of these, i was glad to don the ‘patapata’ and ‘leso’ and walk into the kitchen here to cook those dishes i had been salivating over during Statistics and whose aroma i hallucinated about in Economics.
It was me and the pilau masala and the black pepper altogether walking onto the friar. I remembered watching Amma do the meal in record time, possibly half an hour for a whole preparation. I wanted the meal to be perfect for the evening ahead. So i revelled in onion and tomato-cutting heaven as i sizzled and stewed the ‘pilau’ to life.
And there was the smile at the end of the day as the people appreciated the meal and i licked my fingers in anticipation of the coming delight. So that’s why we Kyuk mamas have round happy figures? This food we are taught to love smells good.
Today it was my absolute favourite thing in the world, Ug and Greens…crunchy cabbage in a bed of its own succulent juices served with my very own masterpiece white Ug! Joy, bliss and wait for it…some Mala needed. I think they call it buttermilk here. I want to do this for the rest of my life. Forget Uni…i will cook and eat Ug till i am 60.
So i won’t tell you about the weekend, and the roasted succulent cuts, served with Ug and Kales. I want to do this forever. So if only the break would last forever alreday and this moment would have my palate satisfied..and oh(deep sigh) I can now rest happy.
I want to be the traditional homemaker. I want to make food from scratch and show my love culinary style. I do not want to be the liberated woman who cannot cook, or sew. or anything. I want to see the satisfied look on my man’s face after a shared meal that i cooked…alas..an African Woman is a quality woman.
mariakani united
Mariakani United
February 1st 2004 was the battle of the titans. In Nairobi, the situation was as critical as elsewhere in the country. There were no belching double cab minibuses on the industrial area route nor were there the usual array of flashy SouthB ‘manyangas’. Like others headed off home after a hard day’s toil, I waited in line for the single public vehicle plying the route. After walking all the way from the office near Arboretum to the Sunbeam terminus, I was dusty, tired and discomfited by the sticky January heat that persisted all day long. To make matters worse, it was one of ‘those’ days where the boss had been indoors all day and I had missed the lunchtime fare at Oti’s Kiosk manning the phones. Who knew that the beginning of the month could be so busy?
Minister Michuki had put his foot down. With the lack of matatus, it seemed that we would have to ‘foot’ home too. The directive to bring order into the matatu mayhem had come into effect. Naturally, the matatu operators had been resistant to fitting the seatbelts and speed governors and none dared to venture out for fear of arrest and impoundment. So we waited in neatly looping lines from five p.m then five thirty. For the first time I knew none other at the bus stop. I figured my youth and speed would get me into the vehicle before the others ahead of me, but the burly turbaned self-appointed prefect of the line glared at me as if he could read my mind. The idea died there.
All the cars that stopped asking if people wanted a lift home soon sped away filled with commuters. All traffic laws were flouted as people thought of ways to get home. I thought of Kimani, my workmate who lived beyond Kayole, whose three-hour commute each way was long enough without the delay. What would he do? If I was stranded, he might as well have rented quarters in Mombassa. We waited and waited. How were we going to get home?
I had a curfew to think of. The freedom to work was controlled by the insecurity spreading in Nairobi. I could not afford to be home after seven p.m. Too many muggings, beatings and worse, rapes had happened to those women unfortunate enough to meet with the thugs who lurked beyond the sunset. I overheard one woman click her heel walking toward the Railway Posta junction. Another one followed her. I found myself hurrying up to catch up with them despite our unfamiliarity. By the time we reached the railway bridge, we were thick as thieves, discussing the politics of Nairobi as we raised more dust.
Three neighbours who lived near each other who had never met; Mama Wambui, who ran her own Exhibition stall, myself and Julia, a ‘colle’ professional student, who had taken evening classes until this evening, when she had hoped to get home in time to catch ‘Neighbours’. I already felt those blisters on my insole. There was no doubt in my mind that I was possibly the most tired amongst us, but said nothing. How would I communicate to this mother of three and fulltime student employee that I wanted to rest since I was tired? Besides, it was flattering to be called the young energetic one. I had to keep up appearances at least to save some face for the ‘youth of today’.
These noble thoughts kept me occupied until Car and General roundabout, where the traffic had locked solid. I had all but raised my hands in exhaustion while my new friends regaled me with stories about Mariakani in the old days. At least we were not alone. We were a steady throng of workers headed to pots and pans, children and backyard garden ‘sukuma wiki’ harvests. Truly, the day when Kenya walked, Mariakani united.
fiona …mis tourism kenya…proud of you , my gal for life.
http://brynmawr.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2002576&l=643c6&id=10301644
check out her interview in the Kenya Times(yes, they are online!)
http://www.timesnews.co.ke/27sep05/magazine/magazine1.html
Memories of My M.W…Gabriel Garcia Marques…2004, What does it have to do with me?
“The adolescents of my generation, greedy for life, forgot in body and soul about their hopes for the future until reality taught them that tomorrow was not what they dreamed, and they discovered nostalgia” p.39
Yes, na true!
“I have a very bad chemistry with animals, just as i do with children before they begin to speak.
They seem mute in their souls. i don’t hate them, but i can’t tolerate them, because i never learned to deal with them. I think it is against nature for a man to get along better with his dog than his wife; to teach it to eat and defecate on schedule, to answer his questions and share his sorrows.”p.51
i really agree, as i am not a pet person at all.
on other kinds of pets…
“I think he is an abandoned cat who’s gone through a good deal, he said.
Observe him, don’t try to make him adapt to you, adapt to him instead, and leave him until you gain his confidence” advice from the soldier on the new cat. p52
“A person who says only what she thinks. Perfect for manual labour.
She is in contact with someone who has died and from whom she expects help, but she is mistaken: the help she is looking for is within reach of her hand.
She’s had no relationships , but she’ll die an old woman,, and married.
Now she has a dark man, but he won’t be the man of her life.
She could have eight children but will decide for just three.
At the age of thirty-five, if she does what her heart tells her and not her mind, she’ll manage a lot of money, and at forty she’ll receive an inheritance.
She’s going to travel a good deal.She has double life and double luck and can influence her own destiny. She likes to try everything, out of curiosity, but she’ll be sorry if she isn’t guided by her heart”
the palm reading of Delgadina p64.
I seem to think that my palm reading would say some similar things even though i take the example of palm reading purely as an example of what the future holds.
On love and a couple of the men i know can really fit this picture even though they would never admit this to my face. you know yourself…
“I discovered that my obsession for having each thing in the right place, each subject at the right time, each word in the right style, was not the well-deserved reward of an ordered mind but just the opposite: a complete system of pretense invented by me to hide the disorder of my nature .
I discovered that i am not disciplined out of virtue but as a reaction to negligence,
that i appear generous in order to conceal my meanness,
that i pass myself off as prudent because i am evil-minded,
that i am conciliatory in order not to succumb to my repressed rage,
that i am punctual only to hide how little i care about other people’s time.”p.65
This is really sad. For many, it is true, though
p.69 “Sex is the consolation you have when you can’t love .”
“Don’t let yourself die without knowing the wonder of F…in with love” p.100
Rosa on the man’s love for Delgadina.
maybe true for some, may it be true for many.
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