Memories
Please
enrich this post by adding your own memories:
Kenya,
East Africa, is always a many splendid country!
Memories,
memories, fading memories,
Heartbreak,
clawing fingers, extended arms
Desperately
hanging on to every shred
Of
every memory, places, faces, moments,
Events,
happenings, the food, sports,
Nightclubs,
clubs, the streets, the shops
The
suburbs, the long drives, on muddy roads
Or on
silken black tarmac, room for one car,
Ponds
Cream white silver sands, Malindi
Watamu
Beach Resort, and millions more.
Desperately
seeking familiar faces of my
Youth,
where, oh where, have they all gone,
Oh
the loneliness, of being marooned
On
this Earth without my youth, my friends,
Those
I have loved, fallen in and out of love with,
Where
have they all gone, where has the time gone
Desperate,
desperate, betrayed, let down,
Broken
hearted, broken spirited, helpless,
What,
what is it, why are you waking me?
Oh
sorry,
Oh, a
nightmare, I am just having, am I?
Felt
very real …
Soft,
sweet, gentle things, kisses from a whispering Nairobi breeze on any
evening,
I remember about the other love of my life: Nairobi.
Slip-sliding on fallen jacaranda flowers, loving every petal, every leaf born nearby.
The coffee farms, the tea farms in Kericho, the wheat belts of the Rift Valley,
the glorious game parks and even some romantic game lodges ... Treetops and
the Mount Kenya Safari Clubs and its once shoddy owners. The Ark, Secret Valley,
the magnificent Mara and memories of the Adamsons, oh mighty Tsavo, Mt Kenya
National Park, troubt in Embu and the green, green grass of Meru and the Central
Province as a whole...; Uplands bacon and sausages the like of which we will
never see again.
My
friends, many colours, many thoughts, many dreams, trust, loyalty,
poverty
and riches, you don't count as money or wealth... Watching the world go by in
Nairobi National Park or fishing somewhere, anywhere! Tea with a pretty girl at
the Tea House of the August Moon opposite the Kenya Cinema.
What
is it that psychologically tricks our taste buds into thinking that fruit and
veg grown anywhere else other than Kenya (or Goa for that matter) lacks taste,
aroma, that just plucked freshness, and just does taste that Kenya sweetness.
And why is this particularly true of those gorgeous matundas (passionfruit) that
I used to eat by the kikapuful (basketful) at one sitting topped off with a
couple of slices of pineapple. And what about the madafu (tender coconut), guava,
jumnams, apples, peaches,bananas, berries of a thousand kind? What is it about
the Kenyan coast that makes them so different? And all those mitai (Indian) sweets
... why do the
laddoos
and jelebies seem so different, the sweetness just right in the syrup, and
laddoos moist but firm. Was it the water? Was it the air?
Green
mangoes with salt and chilli powder, red paw paws and yellow papaya. Days when
Coke was a drink and Fanta orange was the prize. When girls smashed ripened
pomegrenate seeds on their lips or drank vimto make their lips red, centuries
before they were emboldened to wear the "devil's colours" lipstick.
The looked great au naturel! White Bobby socks, those girls’ shoes from Bata,
pinafores, long skirts, shorts skirts, ribbons in their hair, gold chains
around their necks and coconut oil in their hair and Ponds vanishing cream on
their faces … strange perfumes, little dabs behind the ears and the upside of
their wrists. Oh, and the boldest with a little dare-devil mascara. Boys in
short pants, short-sleeveds shirts. Long socks in tennis shoes or leather shoes
if you could afford them. Skinny belts tightened to hold up the khaki pants. Bruised
egos and grazes knees from football, twisted ankles and countless cramps, reddened
knuckles and swollen ankles from hockey … boys who wore those girls’ shoes with
a strap at the front. Or the joy of walking barefoot on green, green grass or
brown depending on the season of rain or dry. Picnics, climbing trees and perhaps
the greatest joy of all … gone fishing for tilapia or black bass or freshwater
prawns in Stone Athi. Later, the Drive-In (all boys jammed in a car or the lucky
ones with girls’ heads on their shoulders, and this and that.)
Grams
and jugus (groundnuts) cooked in hot sand ... delicious also charcoal grilled
corn and yam chips (mogo), sweet sweet mandaasi (deeped fried dumpling), irio
(vegetable mash), maharagwe (beans),
skinny muchusi (curry) and the king of foods: ugali (mealie meal). Roasted bananas
and delish banana fritters. Like kisses, soft, sweet pancakes with honey or
fillings of grated coconut and joggery! The fruit and vegie carts outside our
homes each morning followed by the lullaby of the "chupa na debe"
(bottles and cans) men! The happy-go-lucky tiffin carriers who
took warm, daily cooked food for the bwanas in town.
Stern
fathers who rarely spoke to their children and mums who fussed worse than
mother hens and you only learnt to miss all that when they were gone but you
loved them every minute of your life.
Music:
Fadhili Williams and Malaika that opened a new world of music to the uninitiated.
Bata Shoe Shine Boys and Inspector Gideon and the Police Band who showed us new
kind music with Kenya soul. Henry Braganza and the Supersonics, The Bandits,
the Rhythm Kings, Cooty's bands, The Wheelers, Max Alphonso's unforgettable
harmonica playing, Steve Alvares and his band and
the talented Alvares family, classical, jazz, dance and pop.
Escape
to India at the Shan or Odeon or the wonderful family musical parties or those
boisterous but wonderful Sikh weddings. And just for afters Jevanjee Gardens:
basking in the midday sun, not too far from the hustle and bustle of the city,
in the then beautiful gardens where children ran wild like butterflies on
Saturdays and Sundays where the family gathered for an Indian picnic made in
heaven. My nostrils are still filled with the rich aromas! Green Hotel for
delicious Potato chips and Coke or chai or faluda (at Keby’s).
Dinner
at too many Singh's restaurants or Punjabi snacks at tiny bars in the suburbs
or roast chicken at the Sikh Union accompanied by four fingers of Scotch
paraded as two fingers, the forefinger and the little finger. The gentle advice
from my many Sikh uncles!
Puberty
and growing up at all the social clubs, especially the Goan clubs, the music,
the dances, the girls, the friends, the sports, the laughter and carefree,
happiest times of my life.
Blue
jeans and blue suede shoes (if you could find them, got mine at an Italian shop
in the city), Elvie Presley kiss curls and shortsleeved collars turned up. The
girls looked even more beautiful, first in the teenage years and then into
early womanhood. Some mums and dads got even more scarier. Thank God for our
emissary, Tony Reg D’Souza. Tusker, White Cap, City and the imported stuff. Scotch, gin and T, Rum and C, Vodka and O, Brandy and... G ...Vincarnis, white wine, red wine, BabyCham.
Embassy, Dunhill, Rex, Clipper, Jogoo, Sportsman, State Express, 555, Players Navy Cut, Senior Service, Pall Mall, CravenA, B&H, Black Cat, Woodbine, Chesterfield, du Maurier, Gitanes ... and this and that... biddies?
Working
at the Nation: the greatest moments of my life! Daily drinks at Sans Chique and
World Cup at table football against the Laval gang, the late Cyril and Guy were
a deadly combination.
Lunch
and drinks any Saturday at the Tropicana and their brilliant salad ray!
Faluda
at Keby's (had to do this twice, because my late wife loved this and once
walked the length of a Bandra street loving every new flavor). The world's best
lamb samosas and aloo (potato) bajjias at the Ismalia Café opposite the Khoja
Mosque.
Maru's
Cafe in Reata Road. Kheema-mayaii chapatis (egg and mince), delicious kebabs
cooked fresh everywhere, the likes of which I have never seen or tasted again.
Quiet
contemplation in the grounds of the Jamia Islamia Mosque or Holy Family
Cathedral. Coffee with lawyers at Nairobi Town Hall. Coffee and snack at
Snocream. Midnight rendezvous at Embakasi Airport. The drives to anywhere
outside of Nairobi .... Karen, Nairobi National Park,
Thika, Kiambu, Liumuru (haunts of secret lovers, far from prying Goan eyes or
their resultant torrid gossip), Naivasha, Gilgil, Nakuru anywhere, a million dreams.
World's
greatest breakfasts at the Wagon Wheel Hotel Eldoret, Kericho Tea Hotel, Nakuru
Hotel. Best chips and sandwiches at Brunners (Queen’s Hotel) Opposite the City
Hall.
The
bathing of the mind at any game lodge: Watching that magical moment, the last nano
second when evening morphs into night. The first chorus of the night orchestra
mixed with the grunting, sighs of the animal kingdom going to lala.
Being somewhat mesmerised by the magic of Karen and in awe of you-know-who I met only once or twice. Lost and won at the Ngong Racecourse. Loved every moment at Langa Langa and the Nakuru car races ... especially watching that daredevil Jack Simonian. East mud, bogged down to the waste sometimes at Easter during the East African Safari. The colonial streets of Nairobi when two cars on the road meant a traffic jam. The Italian men's clothes shops, the like of which I have never seen again. Those windows filled with ladies' gorgeous hats, all so grand in their feathery grandeur.
All Saints Cathedral and Holy Family Basilica. In awe.
The schools. Each in their separate memories. The ugly side of life in all quarters, most of us quarantined from all that ... but we accepted it was all life. Tough, but British administrative order for most, pain for some. Injustice. A clean city, somewhat clean towns and districts. The wonderful buses and taxis we rarely rode, it was easier and safe to walk even at four in the morning. Or ride a bike. The absence of kitu kidogo. Lines at the Post Office, at the Tax Office, at the bus stop (sometimes) but everywhere ... order and more often than not courtesy within your kind and sometimes from other kinds.
Protected.
But, one day it would soon end. It would be time find a home elsewhere. The trickle of the exodus began sometime before 1960, blew out to pandemic proportions (I exaggerate a little) by 1968.
The East African Standard and the Sunday Post which I read second hand and The Nation where my whole life and perspective changed completely for the better and I worked along side great white folks as equals ... except for the pay. Even the Aga Khan was prejudiced when it came to money. Who am I too complain? I got a new life and a wonderful, unforgettable career at the age of 16 going on 17. That is another story.
Eastleigh,
Pangani, Juja Road, River Road. Starehe. Kariokor. Karen, Dagoretti. Killeshwa,
Lavington, Mincing Lane, Nairobi markets, the churches, the temples, a million
smiles. Nairobi West, South C, South B, Nairobi West, Langata, Embakasi, Kilimani
………..
The
world's greatest nyama choma (barbecued meat) served with onions tomatoes,
green coriander, pinch of salt, drop of vinegar and on the rare occasion a
slice of lemon.
The
bands, the music, the dancing, Swiss Grill, Topaz Grill Room, Equator Club,
Sombrero, Starlight, Equator Inn, Jeans Bar, Caiados Bar, Indian Bazaar,
Museum, Ngong racecourse, Kiambu Club, Limuru Golf Club
Waited
with panting nostrils each Easter to cover the East African Safari. I will
treasure every single moment I spent in every game lodge, one of the greatest
experiences of my life and everyone should do it at least once.
The first time I took a girl to the Thorn Tree. The first time I took a girl to lunch inside the Thorn Tree. Champion and Caviar at the Norfolk sauna! Exquisite lunches at the Muthaiga Golf Club .... Limuru, Kiambu, golf clubs. Lunch at Parliament House, any day a memorable event. Impala, Parklands, Nairobi (tennis), Railway, Kongonis, sports clubs something to savour ... many others too. Lots of Tusker and apres hockey, cricket, rugby, soccer ... Once high tea at the old Torr's or Pan Afric Hotel and those forgotten hotels in outskirts of Nairobi. Sans Chique, the watering hole of journos and others who are best forgotten. The Lobster Pot for that very special posh lunch? What do you remember most ... please to this!
Nairobi Market... all those flowers and curios and everything else.
I am
sure you guys have your special memories. Please add.
Comments