Phew! January, the month that has upper and lower sections is finally over. Never in the history of mankind was the survival of so many Kenyans owed to so few food items. In the spirit of Grammy season, we are rolling a red carpet for foods and drinks that carried us through this bleak month.
Leading the pack is matumbo—those greenish, spongy entrails that polite folk prefer to call tripe. Forget gold or Bitcoin; matumbo was the real currency of January. Butchers made a killing, literally and figuratively, and may Mwenenyaga bless those shepherds who kept us supplied with this hard-times delicacy. Who knew chewing on innards could feel so posh?
Next up, we have smokie pasua, the humble roadside snack that became a lifestyle in January. God bless those hustlers sweating it out in city’s vichochoro, slicing smokies and stuffing them with free kachumbari like culinary magicians. And let’s not forget the farmers who grow the juicy nyanyas that make the kachumbari sing. Add a dash of chili, and boom—you’ve got a meal for kings on a peasant’s budget.
Taking up the third slot is kamande-that legume whose Kikuyu moniker means “pubic lice.” But don’t let the unfortunate branding fool you. All January, kamande was the superfood that made a good source of affordable protein for broke meat lovers. It’s also easy to cook-making it a darling of bachelors who want to fix supper in 20 minutes flat just in time for the game. If kamande were a person, they’d easily win Employee of the Month award.
This piece would be incomplete without the honourable mention of smocha—that Gen Z innovation of wrapping a smokie in chapati. What started as a broke student’s snack is now a staple in office corridors, gobbled down by workers pretending to be on diet. This fusion of carbs and processed meat that saw us through the desolate days of January is so genius it deserves a patent.
Beloved drink
The cream of this list is muratina-the beloved drink, which House of Mumbi brewers make from sugarcane and honey. Its recipe is easily accessible, but its alcoholic content remains a fiercely guarded tribal secret. My cousin Kamaley, a muratina connoisseur swears it’s in the north of 50 per cent per volume, well above most brands available in the market. Judging by the map of dents on his face and the toothless smile he rocks, I tend to agree with him.
All January, Kanairo slay queens who swear by foreign drinks like Moets were imbibing muratina by the galon. But of course they had to rebrand it to “Ratish” to give an exotic ring to it. At the same time, Gen Z kids were pooling coins so that they could partake it. Gikuyu and Mumbi must be clinking horns in their graves-proud as ever.
For some Kenyans this week, salaries have hit the accounts. Folks are strutting around with toothpicks dangling from the corners of their mouths after demolishing beef and ugali in fancy joints. Until another January strikes again…
Now that the 95 days of January are finally over, let’s raise a glass of Ratish to the culinary saviours who carried us through the struggle. February, please be kind—we’re are still recovering.