My
Life in Kenya
By Greg Patricio
Part One (Pre. 1951)
I was born on
Jan. 5th. 1943 towards the tail end of World II, in Nairobi.
Although Kenya was far from the battle front, we had to blackout our windows
and often heard the wailing of the warning sirens at the fire station. The Italians invaded Kenya – they took Moyale and
Fort Harrington eventually liberated in 1941. Malindi was also bombed. Hence, Kenya had a lot of Italian POW’s. They
were detailed to build the road along the Rift valley escarpment, going North.
Halfway they constructed a little Chapel overlooking the Great Rift Valley. It
was a stop for many of our trips and picnics. Looking down was a terrific view
of the Great Rift Valley, which stretches for over 3000 miles, starting in the
Lebanon and via East Africa, south, to Mozambique. The “Axis” Italian POW’s
were from the North African front, mainly Somalia, Eretrea and Ethiopia. Rommel
was further, to the north. During this period, food was rationed, and families
were given Ration Coupons, I do not know how this sticks in my mind, as I was
about two years old. The African Regiment that fought the Germans &
Italians was the K.A.R., King’s African Rifle’s. (There were some Goans, in the
K.A.R. my brother-in-law, Vincy and his brother.R.I.P.) They also had south
African and Rhodesian soldiers in Kenya – the KAR also served in the Burma
campaign alongside the Gurkha regiments.
Kenya… Yes,
we have snow! Mount Kenya is snow-capped,
elevation 17,000 very hard climb, a couple of my buddies and I hiked up to its
base, it was amazing how the vegetation changed as you kept climbing.
Neighboring
Mt. Kilimanjaro, 19,000 ft. it is a little easier climb, although it is the
highest mountain on the Africa continent. A factoid, it is second closest
mountain or point on Earth that is closest to the sun, the Equatorial bulge made
this possible. The Masai, call it “Ngaja Ngai” House of God. Sadly Mt.
Kilimanjaro, is now slowly losing its snow cap. The name Kenya, is derived from
the local Kikuyu language Kere Nyaga which means “Mountain of Whiteness”
The Equator
passes right through the middle of Kenya, yet the weather is nice and cool, not
hot, humid and muggy like so many Equatorial countries, as Nairobi, is on a
plateau, the elevation is 5000 ft. above sea level. Most of the good land was
settled by the “mzungu, (white settlers) Colonialists” who grabbed and usurped
the good land which they called the “White Highlands”.
In Kenya, segregation earlier on, was subtle, and was accepted as the norm, with very little
resentment by the local Indians and Africans population. The British, rulers,
encouraged this segregation among the Asian and other communities, including
the local African tribes. Their philosophy was to “divide and rule” We termed
it, “Colour Bar”. To be fair the Asian communities, like the Hindus, Sikhs,
Muslims, Khojas and Goans, did not mix to well, due to religious and cultural
differences. They had their own clubs, and to some extent schools too. The Goan
Clubs, took this division one step further depending, on which village one
hailed from Goa.
The result of
the expropriation of land, segregation and lack of representation – resulted in
the Mau Mau, uprising, sadly they were quite vicious, and regretfully,
massacred many of their own. But they
did pave the way for “Uhuru” (Independence). India supported them. This in
response to the appeal by Mr. Pio Gama Pinto (A Goan) to President Nehru. Most Goans took the “middle road” and sat on
the fence.
(My car registration, tag is “UHURU”.)
I must
credit, the British for opening the hinterland, but more for their own
convenience and business needs. Strangely the above communities and the British
made up the main population in the cities; there were a few Boers (Dutch from
South Africa) and Seychellois. (who spoke a pidgin French patois). In the
cities, the African were a minority. They did not venture far out from the
‘villages’, I hesitate to use the word “reservations” I first heard it used, in
the 50’s during the Mau Mau, revolt, for Independence.
Kenya is
noted for its game parks (savannahs/grassland) and beautiful tropical beaches.
unfortunately, we
could not
afford to visit the game parks and lodges, nor did we have the means (Cars
etc.). We did take holidays to the beaches of Mombasa and Malindi. The journey
was by choo-choo train, monstrous fire breathing coal fired steam engines, as
it started to move, you would see sparks fly from the steel wheel on the rail
track, smoke and steam, huffing and puffing, the trip took overnight, 14 hours
for a distance of 275 miles or about 6 to 8 hours later on, when we had cars, and
then, you may have had to dodge giraffes, lions and an elephant or two, the
road sign also said “Rhino’s have the right of Way”. The road was not paved,
there was a section of 10 miles called Mackinnon Rd. that war tarmacked. On the
train, trip, dinner was announced by the catering staff walking down the train
tinkling on a xylophone…but we could not afford eating in the dining carriage,
we packed sandwiches etc.
On our return
trip we would be loaded with baskets of fruits, and delicacies like Halwa, (a
Jelly like sweet) which the Coastal Arabs were experts at making, they would
pack it in special woven container made from the palm frond. Another commodity
was cashew nuts, salted dried fish, like mackerel, shark and ray fish. Fruits,
custard-apple, mangoes, passion fruit and granadilla, madafus,(tender coconut),
centras (tangerines). We would pack these in a kikabo. (A large basket woven
from the palm frond)
My favorite
was Toddy, the sap from the stalk sliced off which would have produced the
coconuts. The toddy tappers collected it in a gourd. The best was the morning
collection. It was sweet, slightly sour and bubbly… Champaign of the God’s. In
Goa it is used to make sannas, a kind of steamed bread. If toddy was left too
long, it turned to a popular Goan Vinegar. A little-known secret, Feni, one of
Goa’s famous liquor was available in Mombasa, you had to know where to get it,
one had to drive to the mainland, then a long pow, wow, before they would sell
it to you. Illegal Local moonshiners. Where did they learn these techniques?
Men’s natural talents! for raising his “spirits’.
In Nairobi they brewed alcohol from maize (corn meal) and honey.
(Pombe/Chaanga)
In Mombasa
and Malindi, our accommodations were in rooms rented by folk who had settled
there, and rented out rooms. They would also serve us our meals. In Malindi and
Mombasa, it was a common sight to see the local women (Giriama) go topless, it
did not bother or faze anyone, I am sure it must have bothered some more strait-laced
missionaries. Quite a contrast from the local Muslim women wearing the buibui
and the hijab.
My heroes are
my Mum, Dad and my five Older Siblings. I am not sure when Pai (from the
Portuguese word for father), emigrated to Kenya… but I do know that Mai came
from Goa to get married in 1923 in Mombasa.
Yes 1923,
Africa, was still the, Dark Continent…and as my dad was lame, I think from a
polio attack, he had to use special boots, it must have taken a lot of courage
to leave Goa for fame and fortune, but it was a gung-ho, pioneers spirit. Pai, must have come to Kenya, before 1923 and
after kind of looking around, then asked my mum to travel to Kenya.
It was a custom of these bachelor Goan to live
together in a group called “messing” and developed a lot of friend and kinship
among the Goan bachelor immigrants. In later years wives of Goan families would
cater to these bachelors with food etc. Yes, they used the famous Tiffin
carriers, which were stacked containers, with chapatti, rice meat gravy etc.
The Tiffin carriers are now world famous, and now well established, food
delivery system, especially in India, England and I believe on the west coast,
California, using trains and trucks and bicycles. (Harvard business school did
a study of how the tiffin system works – quite complex, nah! Cannot beat Indian Ingenuity! ! ! Who Needs Harvard.)
My two
Brothers and three Sister, Heroes,
grew up in a two room quarters, no separate kitchen…just two rooms! How did
they manage this; without squabbles etc. I was a toto (child). so, could be
shoved around, did not know any better. My brothers Dominic and Bernard, were
more of the studious types, (had to be), Bernard studied Chemistry and Dominic
Accountancy. Bernard, studied by candle
light, he collected the wax dripping from the candle wax from church (he was an
altar boy) and used this wax (melted) to make a kind of lamp. My sisters had to
leave school early, I think for financial reasons. I, only went up to grade7,
as I failed the KPE, (Selection Exam for Grammar School. ie.High School). About
30% of our class failed, other schools had a higher failure rate, hence, a lot
of costly Private Schools blossomed, and exploited this situation. (Our class
was the first, exposed to this hurdle.) I was lucky to get a job with Cable
& Wireless, and succeeded very well.
Time flies and fleas hitchhike…
My sister,
Lucy got married, and moved up stairs which was now vacant, and so did Dominic,
he wanted a room to himself to study. He became an Accountant, studied further
and qualified as a Company Secretary a very prestigious achievement, hence he
worked as a top-level administrator in the Kenya government and later for the
for the Sultan of Brunei. After this he went to London, but could not get a job
to his liking so he volunteered, with a missionary organization and was sent to
Tanzania to work as an Administrator for a Hospital.
Life goes on and light, travels. We
still lived in two rooms no kitchen, cooked, ate and slept in the same rooms.
Cooked on a (Makara) char-coal brazier. (Gicho). We had a make shift oven which
was a large container, the bottom layer was sand and we put the item to be
baked inside on the sand layer, covered it with a metal cover and heaped hot
coals on top….It worked really well. We
progressed to the Primus stove, which used kerosene fuel, to start we had to
pump it until a little kerosene collected in a cup at the base, then let the
pressure off, lighted the kerosene which heated the base, then closed the valve
and pumped again and now the heated base vaporized the fuel coming and we now
had a star shaped flame at the top. The danger of an explosion was eminent.
There were stories of Indian women who wore saris and thus were more prone to
these fiery accidents…. The Gicho still had to be used for baking and heating
our bath water in the debbes. (4gallon rectangular tin cans, originally oil container).
Many of the Africans were talented, they made the charcoal by slow burning wood
couple of feet underground, covered with mud and a vent for a little air and
another for the smoke, I would see these mounds when my dad would take us for a
bus ride to the country. Another reason we took these trips was to collect dry
banana leaves for my mum to roll her “biddies”. (Kind of cigarette using whole
tobacco leaf). It was unusual to see a woman of her genre smoking, I gather she
did this on advice from a dentist. She
eventually graduated to a pipe. My godmother also smoked, but she would put the
burning end in her mouth!
In the later
years folk had servants to do the heavy work like washing etc. So strange to
see them washing clothes, whacking them on ground or using a danda or rungu, (a
wooden pole) to beat on the clothes…broke a lot of buttons. No special
detergent, but I remember, for white clothes, they added a blue chalky powder
to the water. Some of our good clothes we would give to the “dhobi walla”
Indian laundry man. They offered great service, and came door to door to pick
up and deliver our clothes. Dishes and utensils were scrubbed using the outer
husk of the coconut shell, dipped in ash as an abrasive. This coir or stringy
cover of the coconut was also used to stuff mattresses, the wisdom of this was
that, it kept the mattresses cool and ventilated, cotton or some other material
would make it stuffy, and make us hot and sweaty. Ropes were also made from
this fiber. Wisdom of the pioneers.
The local Africans, knew how to cut glass bottles to make cups which they would
sell. I think they learned this technique from the Italian POW’s. Our tea and
coffee mugs were of cheap, enamel coated metal. We ate hand to mouth, believe
me, this added a unique flavor to the food.
One bathroom
and toilet were shared by four families…No hot water taps. Water was heated in 4-gallon
debbes (square metal can) and heated on a charcoal burner. The toilet was the
bucket system. a platform over a bucket where, you did you job squatting over
it. (The guys who cleaned/emptied these toilets were called, “night
governors”.(our boogeyman) Squatting, is the natural way, I believe this was
the ideal, better than sitting on a toilet. It was considered unhygienic to sit
on a toilet that was used by a person before you etc. Eventually, the bucket
system was replaced by a flushing toilet. but again, it was flush to the floor
and one still had to squat. The water tank was attached to the wall overhead, a
chain dangled down which you pulled. Hence the expression. “Who pulled your chain” when one talked to much. But it was a good, time, a happy time, where
every other mother, was your mother… You know! we were not spoon-fed, no, no
Siree! we were hand fed, they would
make a ball of rice and shove it in your mouth, and before you could swallow
it, in came a bit of savory meat or fish or pickle…there was haste, but no
place for waste. what a wonderful life…Waste not, want not, was the policy of
the day. I would not change it for anything. “No, no, I don’t like it “I won’t
eat it” was never ever uttered. To this day when I open can of soup I rinse it
and make use of the water…. Now my dog also helps with yogurt containers etc.
licking them clean.
Breakfast was
toast… made over the charcoal fire with a wire mesh netting over it, we had to
scrap the charred layer, then had it with butter and jam…tasted soooo good. We
as kids drank coffee. Seldom had bacon…. I was amazed when I first had
scrambled egg at my godfather’s home, wow, my taste buds were surprised. but
when I mentioned this to my mum, she was a little disgruntled. (Eggs were
tested for freshness by putting them in a large bowl of water, they floated if
bad, also checked by holding them to a light to see no dark shadows.)
No computers, tablets or phones, we interacted
with one and other, played with marbles and old bicycle rims, old tennis balls,
string puzzles, and paper origami, of course never called it that. We made our
own catty-stick (Catapult), cutting strips for old inner tire tube, leather
from old shoes, and Y shaped branch. The Guava tree was supposed the best and
strongest. We played out in the mud, no lawns. hence, we probably developed a
strong immune system.
Ohhh yes! Doctors made house calls, with their
black bag and a Warm Hug.
Yesssiree,
most of fruits and vegetables, meat like chicken was organic, Mutumia, (old African women) came house to house
selling home grown fruit and vegetables etc., then let the haggling and
bargaining begin. Looking back, I kind of feel sorry for them as they had to
travel from the country carrying their produce (in a bag strapped to their
foreheads) and often a toto (baby) strapped to their back. Their produce was
carried in colorful baskets, which they weaved from the Sisal fibers.(Agave).
Not sure if it is the same plant family that the Mexicans make alcohol and a
healthy sweetener.
Chicken was
my favorite meat, sooo tasty and chewy, had to cook it longer than the chicken
we now get grown in chicken coops, that just disintegrates if cooked a little
too long. We shared our backyard with these chicken, it was soo cool to the
mother hen with fluffy chicks, a little scary too, as the mother hen would
attack you all fluffed up, if you got to close to its chicks. Pork we had on
festive days, and we used all parts of the hog, “from the snoot to the toot”.
Could not afford the prime cuts, used a lot of organ meats and also the whole
head, amazing how much meat there was there…made cutlets from the brain, was
cooked like an omelet. The original famous Goan dish Sorpotel using liver and
fatty meat, (in Goa), even used some the blood to make the gravy. The
intestines were used for sausage casing. (Chorizos)
Life
goes on. Frogs croak, but do not die.
During school
holiday I went around barefooted… was tough for a few days until my heel and
skin hardened... We used leather sandal shoes (beach type) for daily school
use. Had the luxury of a pair of white
tennis shoes for my First Holy Communion. Later on, we had leather
shoes…Yeaaah… aaand they were “custom made to measure” by the local shoe
makers…Every Sunday morning we had to polish our shoes, before going to
church. Last day of school we had to
take brown shoe polish, to polish our desk, clean out the inkwell etc…(ink
well… we were not allowed to use ballpoint or fountain pens). When school
holidays started, Mia would dose us with caster-oil, uggh, or with
milk-of-magnesia, to clean us inside out, and again, just before going back to
school. There was also a bitter potent made by soaking special herbal wood
chips that we were dosed with.
Nothing was
wasted, men came by to buy empty glass bottles and newspapers. Some vendors came to exchange their ware for
old clothing etc., this trading, was called “mallie for mallie” ie. treasures
for treasure. Men came with a big wheel to sharpen knives etc. The pop bottles
had a round glass bead as a stopper, the opener was a gadget that pushed the
bead in releasing the gas….what a wonderfilled life, no stress no mess, No
haste, no waste, was the law of the
day.. My mum and dad raised 6 children, it could not have been easy, I never
heard them argue or quarrel. Pai, did enjoy his daily dose of brandy.
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