Valentine's Day

We are feeling very comfortable in the local community. Despite the dark, drab look of most of the businesses, inside the owners are polite and friendly. Des has made friends with Annie, a fruit seller, and also Jacob the butcher (he is the one who, when asked what kind of meat it was, replied "animal"). The owner of the Impala Store now expects us at least once a week to buy a carton (12x500ml packets) of UHT milk.

And so it seemed appropriate that we venture "down town" for Valentine's Day. It's not often you get the chance to take out four lovely ladies, but that was the case this year. Desleigh, Elise, Tabby (our house mate) and Jemima (Tabby's sister, visiting for a few days) drove in style to the Ambassador Hotel for afternoon tea.

Well we didn't actually drive in style. The main road (only road) through the village is being widened and completely renewed. Usually in Kenya they provide some rough side track to skirt the mayhem, but in our village it seems to be "find your own way through the maze". So we headed towards town on the pedestrian path. No access, a pile of dirt had just been dumped in our way. Perhaps we could drive up onto the section of old road that still exists. No, the step up is at least half a metre. So we headed back out of town for about 700 metres, finally finding a crossing from one side of the earthworks to the other. Fortunately on that side of the road it was clear progress into the village.

The ambassador is clearly one of the classiest establishments in town. It has real parquetry tiles on the floor, and three alfresco tables on the front verandah. We park right out front, next to the donkey dray. Inside, the ambience is casual yet business-like. We have missed out on a verandah table but we find somewhere to sit inside and scan the menu. While we are scanning the menu everyone else in the room is scanning us.

 

Drinks first. Fortunately the menu suggests that coffee is available. I am not naive enough to expect anything like an espresso machine, but instant coffee will do. Unfortunately the waitress tells me that there is no coffee. You do not ask why on these occasions. Kenyans are very polite but they don't appreciate conversations that require explanations.

I scan the menu again, noticing that above the drink items is the heading "Beaverages". I am  tempted to ask for a drink for my beaver, but think better of it. Strangely, samosas appear half-way down the Beaverages menu - perhaps for confused Indian beavers!

Although the local Kenyan beer is tempting (yes folks, I know that I dislike beer - but it is cold, wet and hygienic), I decide on a Sprite, after being reassured by the waitress that it will be cold.
The sisters share a Coke, Des and Elise share a Sprite.
There is Tea on the menu. Kenyan tea is white tea with copious amounts of sugar. It is dispensed from a thermos, therefore there is no way that you can get it without sugar.

Now to food. There seem to be two staple meals in cafes in Kenya. Kuku (chicken) and chips is very popular, although the chicken is not what you would call 'plump'.
Whereas we eat potatoes with most things, Kenyans eat Ugali. It is a maize meal loaf cooked in a pot like porridge, and extracted when at a consistency between bread and porridge. It cuts like bread, but has the bland, squishy consistency of porridge.
Apparently you can eat ugali with anything, and Kenyans mostly do. We don't.

It seems to be a day for sharing. The sisters share a plate of chips and so do Desleigh and Elise. I choose the scoane, which I assume is a scone.
The chips are devoured because they are junk food and we have precious little of that. They are fried in cooking oil of some variety, but they throw in too many and they come out cooked but pale and limp. I am told that tomato sauce helps.
Can you get a picture of two Adelaide sisters, giggling together while they consume their coke and fried chips (what would their mother say?).

My scoane arrives. It is dry but we expect that with all pastry and cakes in Kenya. There is not even butter to go on the scoane. Strangely, she has provided a fork. Minutes later Desleigh gestures for me to look in a certain direction. There is a Kenyan man in a suit who has also chosen the scoane. He has it on a fork and is eating it like a toffee apple. You live and learn.

Fun and feasting over, we head for the door, stopping of course to pay the waitress.
The bill comes to 365 shillings. I hand over two 200 shilling notes and reject the change. What a big spender I am ... And are the girls impressed? I have just spent, including tip, the equivalent of $Aus5.10 .