Food, Glorious Food

Mrs. Ruprah is always feeding me. And that's alright. The other evening, after dark, she knocks on my door and, when I open it, she hands me an ear of roasted corn. Today, she calls me over to where she's sitting on the patio and asks if I'd like an egg roll. Egg roll? You bet! So she runs into the house, as she does nearly every day to fetch food, and returns with a plate. There's a small bowl of curry on the plate, along with a hump of nutty dessert containing brown sugar and what looks like chipped pistachio nuts. The egg roll is actually a small bread roll, cut open to make a sandwich. Inside, she's smeared a sweet, red chili sauce on the bread and overlapped slices of boiled egg. It is absolutely delicious! She sometimes deep fries cassava, a local vegetable that tastes like potatoes. Mrs. Ruprah serves her deep-fried cassava slices with a tomato chutney sauce containing chopped onions. Locals grind cassava to make flour. Indian dishes have made it onto traditional menus in the restaurants. Samosas cost between 15 and 50 shillings each, depending on the restaurant. I feel very fortunate to eat Mrs. Ruprah's home-made samosas, both meat and vegetarian, for free. She asks if I'd like tea, but I decline. She's done too much running in and out of the house on my behalf. Tea in Kenya is made by boiling water, tea and milk together. "You drink coffee," she says. I nod. She says, "One day, I'll come with you and see your machine. We'll drink coffee." I tell her we'll do it one morning since coffee might keep us up at night. She asks how the machine works, does the milk and water go in together? I explain the process and she's pleased. "Mama likes coffee, too," she says, pointing toward the other Mrs. Ruprah. Mama is sitting quietly but nods, yes, she likes coffee. Even though she doesn't speak English, she understands a bit of it. "Unapenda kahawa," I say to the old Mama, practicing Kiswahili (You like coffee). "Ninapenda kahawa," she confirms (I like coffee).