2Kgs of Ugali… and a Happy New Year!

I take some of the best shits of my life when I am home.

And I don’t mean my house in Nairobi. I mean home. Where I eat my mother’s food. Home where I have such a balanced diet, with a constant supply of fruits and vegetables. I am talking about home where I drink water without being reminded to do so. This is probably fuelled by the fact that Kisumu heat can dehydrate you in minutes if you are not careful. Home, where my mother will randomly give me something to eat, just because.

You see I didn’t realize just how good shits are at home until one of my sisters pointed it out. (If you can’t discuss your bowel movement with your siblings, why do you have them?) Whenever I go home, my body gets into a routine, and I suddenly have daily shits. Really good ones. The kind that makes you feel you are ten times lighter. The kind that isn’t forced. The kind that lets you know when it’s ready and doesn’t play around. No teasing. The kind that leaves the toilet paper clean in the first wipe. Home shit is just the shit!

I know what you are wondering… Oh Paula how can you not write a word for months then come and talk shit. Well first of all, I have been writing. It may not have been for this blog, and may very well be mainly for school and work, but I write all the same. At least 2000 words daily. So why am I talking about shit?

Why not!

Anyway, that is not why I am writing this.

Once again, as it is the trend, there really isn’t a point to this post. I am writing, just because. If you look for a point in this, you won’t find any.

In my first away meal for this year, I had quite the experience.

I resumed work very early this year with a journey deep into Tharaka Nithi county. I have been to almost every county in this beloved country, and I will talk about each eventually (You people may need to remind me). But of all the counties I have been to, Tharaka Nithi is among the most visited. Do I really need to say the first thing I looked for when I first visited this county? Hint – 2007 General Elections.

Anyway, that is pointless information, as is this whole post. The journey from Nairobi to Marimanti (a sub county in Tharaka Nithi) is about 4-5 hours. We left Nairobi at 4:30 PM, and half the team had not had lunch for various reasons. Mine was pure laziness. I had just come back from home. I wasn’t going to cook! Plus, I still wanted to experience at least one last good shit you know.

Anyway, seeing as we hadn’t had lunch and our arrival time was estimated to be around 8:30 PM, we decided to call ahead and make an order for dinner in one of the local hotels. The person on the other side of the phone was so drunk, that everything had to be repeated a million times before he could understand what we wanted. Any question he was asked, resulted in an answer completely irrelevant to the question asked, or him completely ignoring the question.

“Mnafunga saa ngapi?”

Speaks to someone in the background and ignores the question.

“Mko na chakula gani available tukifika tunaeza pata”

Speaks to someone in the background and ignores the question.

“Mko na chakula gani?”

“Kuna kila kitu” – They in fact, did not have kila kitu.

“Kama nini?”

“Beef ugali”

“Na nini?”

“Chakula iko”

“Tuko watu seven na tutafika around saa mbili na nusu. Ni nini tutapata iko ready?”

“Madam, ama niwatengeneze nyama wet fry kama order”

“Hakuna kitu iko yenye tutapata?”

“Chakula iko”

“Gani?”

“Mko wangapi?”

This went on for a while. Eventually, despite it being Njaanuary, we decided on 2Kgs of wet fry beef, some cabbages, and ugali. I repeat, we were seven people. This is a totally normal order. And we were very hungry.

Flash forward to our arrival at the hotel. Things started going south. One, the order we had made an hour and a half before we arrived was still not ready. We needed to wait another 30minutes! But that’s not even where it gets interesting. Stay with me.

Two, just before serving our meal, the chef came to our table and said, “Sasa ile order yenu, nimetengeneza 3Kgs”.

Excuse me, what?!

We had clearly said we wanted just 2Kgs. Who was going to eat, and pay for the extra 1Kg?

My colleague, the one who made the order, told him, “When we called, we said 2Kgs. Bring us our 2Kgs only”. The chef said “Sawa” and went back into the kitchen. The manager, who had seen the conversation, came to find out what the issue was. We told him we had ordered 2Kgs, but his guy says he had made 3Kgs. We then asked him to politely tell his people to give us just what we had ordered. The meal was eventually served. And looking at the beef serving, even a blind person could tell that was not 2Kgs. The guys had clearly brought the 3kgs.

That, and a whole tonne of Ugali.

But who are we? We ate! Hunger took over and we ate to our fill. The beef, not the ugali. It was a lot!

Then came the time for payment. And this is where the third thing that could go wrong, went wrong.

As we had visualized, the beef was 3Kgs. Need I remind you that we had asked for 2Kgs and even confirmed the same before they served us. Now who pays for the extra 1Kg (in our bellies) was the big question. You see at such times, it’s best to let one person talk. With that in mind, the rest of us just kept looking at each other in disbelief, while picking our teeth off the sweet, bony, and well fried beef we had just devoured.

The one who had taken our order, and the one who prepared the order were both gone. Nowhere to be found, and not picking their calls. Completely disappeared. As it turns out, the one who prepared the meal was told there is a team coming and they want 2Kgs of ugali. 2Kgs of Ugali! Not beef. Ugali. I have eaten in so many hotels and never have I ever heard someone specify the amount of Ugali they will eat. Never. We later came to learn that they are used to doing that. It wasn’t the first time this was happening.

Then, as if all that wasn’t enough, they told us there is a labour cost. I have mentioned before that I have been to almost every county in this country. I have been to some of the best joints when it comes to nyama choma and its counterparts. I have preordered meals hours, and sometimes even days before I arrive to a county. And this was the first time I was charged for labour. First time.

These, of course, fuelled our frustration. Our representative managed to negotiate a rate that despite not being favourable to both parties, was the only rational deal. I have read somewhere, or did I hear it, that a good deal is where both parties walk off slightly disappointed.

As I write this, I am happy to report that the first away meal exited the system smoothly. One week away from home and the shits are still shitting. I know it’s just a matter of time before my system reverts to the status quo. But no matter where I will be in this country, I will try and stop that from happening.

Anyway, this post literally had no point except for me to wish you all a Happy New Year!

This year, we read more, we write more, we eat well (and have good shits of course), and we live more!

With no pressure of course.