Eating sessions at home

Eating sessions at home

The other day my mum came from the village to visit me. With her came several kilos of maize, millet, cassava, meat, omena, and anything else edible. In there was a gigantic cock that had terrorized our homestead for months. Finally, it was going to fall by my knife in the big city of Buore. My girlfriend cooked it like those counterfeit chicken made from wheat flour. The war at the table was evident as I knocked my head against the wall, trying to bite off a chunk. That reminded me of eating sessions at home. Only the oldest and most robust of animals are killed for food, those with an uncertain future. The course is lively and engaging, giving you good body exercise. On one end, somebody is wincing trying to swallow some bitter veggies that are good for the stomach. On one end, another is knocking a large piece of bone against the wall to extract its inner marrows commonly called musondhwe.

Meanwhile, everyone is in a hurry to pinch the chunkiest piece of fish on the solitary plate with a constant warning from the head cook to slow down and eat the ugali too. Meals are a brief, lively session where everyone is involved actively, and no one is allowed to miss. Afterward, everyone lounges in their seats, sucking air between their teeth and discussing varieties of fish and the parts of a chicken that shouldn’t be eaten by women.