FEATURE
text
BRIAN ILOTI MUTOKA
PHOTOS
BUS COLLECTIVE
The best goats
for meat
undoubtedly
come from the
North Eastern
part of the
country.
through a bumpy road on the back
of a pickup truck, to the noisy
market of Kiamaiko in Nairobi, it is
a long and dusty voyage Kenyan
goats make every year, in order to
meet their creator. Mbuzi, Swahili
for goat, is to the Kenyan Christmas
what turkey is to an American
Thanksgiving.
The adventure of the juicy rib
that sits on your plate next to that
steaming wedge of ugali, is an
interesting one. In order to find out
more, Yummy magazine decided to
make its way to Kiamaiko market
in Nairobi’s Eastlands, where
these unfortunate creatures are
unceremoniously “parked” as they
are inspected, prodded and haggled
over by prospective buyers.
According to Charles Mandi, who
accompanied the Yummy team to
Kiamaiko in order to help select
a good candidate for the meal,
Kiamaiko is the best place in Nairobi
to purchase live goats. The majority
of the goats that end up in this
loud market of dubious hygiene,
populated with Somalis, Boranas
and other assorted Kenyans, have
been shipped in from the North of
the country. While this may seem
surprising given the aridity of that
oft neglected region, Mandi says
that this is precisely why the Somali
goats are so tasty.
“The best goats for meat
undoubtedly come from the North
Eastern part of the country,” says
Mandi, knowingly. “They thrive in
precisely those arid conditions. They
are happy. That is why the meat is
so good”.
This cloven-hoofed, long-bearded
and short-tailed animal, has an
interesting place in Kenya’s culinary
culture. Transcending boundaries
of tribe, class and income, it has
over the course of half a century,
become the standard for good times
and camaraderie that traditionally
accompanies a Christmas meal.
In the glorious chaos of the
market, where the deafening yells
of owners and sellers mingles with
a loud and insistent bleating, no one
appears moved by the impending
demise of these beasts. No one
except the sentimentalists in the
Yummy team, who can be seen
pulling and pushing their new
acquisition with heavy hearts onto
the back of a Probox station wagon.
Meanwhile, Mandi is on the phone
with his own butcher who, he says,
will do a cleaner job than the people
working in the abattoir a few feet
away.
When the now deceased and
quartered mbuzi is finally delivered
to its final destination, a flurry of
activity begins in the kitchen. A
large plastic bag is produced, into
which the meat is put. Ronjey,
the chef du jour, proceeds to then
massage large quantities of a
marinade into the meat. Although
reluctant to share the secret of this
special sauce, he eventually confides
that the secret to making a good
marinade is to get the right balance
between sweet, tart, salt and oil. He
tells us that normally he would have
used a plum jam but that all he had
was a jar of mango chutney which
he proceeded to mix with honey,
olive oil, rosemary, garlic, salt and
balsamic vinegar.
While the meat is marinading,
about four hours total, the rest
of the meal is cooked. In order to
somewhat reflect the multicultural
dimension of the Yummy office,
a selection of both Kenyan and
American dishes are being prepared.
The Kenyans insist on having
ugali, while the Americans will not
be content without a traditional
cornbread. A spicy kachumbari
(tomato salad) dressed in olive oil,
accompanies the dishes and a large
amount of sweet potato gratin,
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