East African girls are snacks. So when I walked into this Eritrean restaurant on a Saturday morning, I had the Menu figured out. Just Snacks. But when the devil was banished from heaven many centuries ago, he, actually, she, fell comfortably on cushions in Nairobi. She made the city her HQ.
Now listen, every man wakes up twice. We wake up, then the waking up wakes you (if you know, you know). But this Saturday was a bit special! I woke up before waking up, feeling and looking sexy: for the few who have seen my knees, you know they are a thing of beauty. I had a confident drive like a Mercedes G-class. So it was only fair I donned the Germany National team football Jersey to replicate the mood.
In the soft white-gold light of the morning, the day greeted her favorite saucy and broke son who is attempting to weave his long-night dreams into the truth of his life. I stride in bold steps, feeling a sense of pride in each one, all my focus on Nairobi. Nairobi smiles and blushes when It sees me as besides the high rise of its architecture, I compliment and complete it.
A city is the people and Nairobi is the city. The noise, the Matatus, the garbage in wrong places, hawkers; this is everything I love about Nairobi. Tightly gripping my phone, scanning around, bumping into crowds of people, Nairobi offers the kind of fear and surprises that makes me feel alive.
Nonetheless, this Saturday felt a bit weird. I felt freer and less anxious. The pandemic felt real and it showed as I was perambulating in the streets (there has been an outbreak of beautiful girls and it has been all over the news). I almost broke my neck along Moi avenue with how frequently I turned to screenshot the histories of girls who swung their files to anybody who cared to save the data.
It didn’t matter that I was listening to Solomon Mkubwa on my headphones but I tell you what, when this other gender decides to take a good shower and choose the right clothes, you will turn. It wasn’t my fault that their body parts were staring at my eyes.
My suspicion of this day being weird was affirmed when Niccur (not his real name, but pretty close) in his own wisdom or lack of it, suggested he doesn’t eat fish. Yes, I gave him a second chance to take back his words but he was already drowned in this ocean of uncivilization. He is the second animal of his species that I have met who has portrayed this uncouthness. Needless to say, talks are underway to have the two of them hanged and their bodies burnt before they lay any eggs. Thus far, I managed to hold on to my cool.
But hell awaited. I should have mentioned that I came to hang out with my teammates but I didn’t mention it because they betrayed Kenya. A huge black cloud approached our table and though it was an Eritrean restaurant, there was no way this gentleman was Eritrean. He was African American or if you like a Luo. I didn’t ask him that, he volunteered the information. A waiter by day a darkness collector by night, He took our order of a meal called ‘Angela’ or something close to that. 90% of the people on the table were Kenyans, so I trusted their order as I was busy interceding on Niccur’s behalf to whom wisdom had departed his body.
I was sipping a glass of what looked like a healthy drink (a green juice that I ordered myself and seemed like blended jaba, terere and dania) and tested like the wine Jesus made in Cana. My height enjoyed that. And behold there was darkness, our guy had finally brought our meal, ‘Angela’.
Kwa umbali ilikuwa inakaa mpoleeeeee, very fine! Lakini Looks are deceiving, Usitake kuonja kama imecome . I have tested poverty. I have feasted on heartbreak. Regret is my daily bread. Whatever they brought to us tested worse than all these three combined. Haven’t they heard of Biriani or Pilau? Nyama choma, Wet fried fish? Have they ever heard of the romantic meal of Omena that offers us pleasure and satisfaction while maintaining eye contact? How can someone hate the world that much to invent whatever that was.
But maybe it was not an Eriterian meal afterall. I saw potatoes, I saw carrots, I saw cabbage.. and your guess is as good as mine. Someone without manners wearing an Arsenal shirt was attempting to make pancakes using fermented porridge flour but ended up making manna and renamed it ‘Angela’. But because they were born in Murang’a it ended being called Angera.
It was a great insult to Ugali! White Lives Matter.