THE FOOD LIFE
INDIAN
HERITAGE
Charity Keita heads down to Lamu to discover
more about the intersection of Swahili and Indian food.
A
s I bite into my
delightfully spicy fish
samosa, the boat gently
rocks from side to side
indicating that the tide
has begun to change direction. We
are anchored on a coral reef next to
the rolling mangroves of Manda Toto
island, a couple hours sail from Lamu
town.
I came to Lamu on a mission to
discover more about the intersection
of Swahili and Indian food. Today
I am having an impromptu Swahili
fish barbecuing lesson on a creaky
old dhow, under the scorching
midday sun. It is actually much more
enjoyable than I’m making it sound.
As the smell of white snapper
grilling in a masala rub wafts over
me, I allow my mind to wander. I’m
thinking about how Diwali is just
36.
around the corner and that this year
I definitely need to convince some
of my Indian friends in Nairobi to
invite me to join them in part of the
festivities. Thinking about Diwali
is making me hungry, so I reach
my hand into the brown paper
bag and pull out another samosa.
I can’t help but wish I could have
been a fly on the wall this morning,
watching the mama who cooked
this. I wonder what combinations
of spices she used. Are they her
own special recipe, handed down
over generations? I have never seen
“samosa masala” sold in the market,
so it has to be something only those
in the know can conjure up.
I realise I don’t know much about
how Indian food got to Kenya. I’ve
always assumed it was introduced
around the time the Brits started
hauling in Punjabis and Gujaratis to
help build their Ugandan railway.
A quick poll of my fellow traveling
companions, who are quite a wellread lot, reveals however that they
believe the Indian influences in
Swahili food far predate the arrival
of the English. I am informed by
Josiah, the most knowledgeable
foodie of our group, that Indians
had already been engaging in
commerce with the Omani kingdom
of Zanzibar in the late seventeenth
century. The introduction of foods
like biryani, chapati and samosas are,
he tells me, a logical development of
subsequent trade up and down the
Swahili coast. He goes on to inform
me that much of what we consider
our indigenous foods, from maize to
rice, coconuts, mangoes, pineapples
and lemons, were all brought to
the country at some point over the
centuries, mainly by the Arabs and
the Portuguese.
It is hard to imagine the Kenyan
food panorama without the addition
of these flavoursome foodstuffs. I
mention out loud that without them,
we would be reduced to eating
little more than boiled vegetables.
Josiah interjects that as his parents
have gotten older, they have in fact
reverted to the diet of their Kikuyu
forefathers. He tells us that they feel
the diet is adding years to their lives.
Sure, we could turn it into a trendy
twenty first century diet I respond
to him. I’m sure it would be huge in
California. In the meantime, however,
who would like to share the last
spicy fish samosa?