Mom Commits a Faux Pas

When we made our trip to Kenya in December 1987 and January 1988, there was a man named Kibugi who attended my sister's church and who came from a rural area in Kenya not far from the town where my brother and sister-in-law were living.  Kibugi prevailed upon Carol to carry some Christmas gifts to his mother and family, and she of course obliged.

Let me tell you about the role of mothers in Kenya.  Although Kenyan culture remains very patriarchal, motherhood is a state of very high honor.  Once a Kenyan woman has borne a child, she is often no longer referred to by her own name, but rather by the honorific "Mama" and the name of her child, usually the firstborn.  So I really don't know the name of one of the main characters in this story.  We just called her Mama Kibugi, and she was, of course, the mother of my sister's friend.

Once we had arrived in Kenya, my brother contacted Kibugi's family, and told them that we had gifts for them from their son in America, and they arranged to come to Jerry and Donna's house to collect the gifts.  They arrived, and were very happy to meet all of us, and thrilled with the presents, which included a fancy dress that Kibugi had sent his mother.  And then, as is the Kenyan custom, they insisted that we come to visit them at their home for a meal.

Kenyans are very hospitable people.  Even the poorest will invite you into their home, and serve you something, even if it is just tea.  (The Kenyans brew their tea very strong, and serve it with equal amounts of hot milk, and very sweet.)  It's quite humbling.  These people who have even less than North Americans who rely on welfare are always willing to share what little they have.  Those who have a little more will, of course, offer their guests more.

I had learned in my earlier trip to Kenya that the highest honor a Kenyan could bestow upon a dinner guest was to serve chicken.  It is not budget food there.  It is special occasion food.  If a rural Kenyan serves chicken, it is not something she bought at the local supermarket or butcher.  It is livestock from her back yard that she has slaughtered.  It's the African equivalent of killing the fatted calf.

So on the appointed day, we were off to Mama Kibugi's house.  There were quite a few of them living in that small house (something that is not all all unusual there).  There were several other sons, a daughter-in-law, and some grandchildren, as well as two of Mama Kibugi's sisters.  Mama Kibugi was a teacher in a school not far from their house.  She had taken the day off work to receive us, but we walked to the school to see where she taught and to meet the schoolchildren.  I believe it was the first time some of those children had ever met someone of European descent.

Then we went back to the house for the meal.  The Kibugi family is from the Kikuyu tribe.  Most traditional Kikuyu food is rather bland, but quite heavy.  They make a dish called githeri, which is beans and dried corn cooked together, and they also make something called irio, which is a Kikuyu version of mashed potatoes and peas.  Irio is what Mama Kibugi served us that day, along with some fresh fruit, and of course, tea.  We ate our fill, and those potatoes and peas were feeling rather heavy in our stomach.

It was only when we were already stuffed with the irio that Mama Kibugi produced a blue-green plastic bowl of chicken.  In my mother's defense (and you will soon see why she needs defending), the chicken didn't look very appetizing.  It looked like it had just been boiled, and there didn't appear to be any spices or seasoning of any kind on it.  The bowl containing the chicken had been covered by a plate, but as soon as the plate was removed, flies started buzzing about it.  Mama Kibugi took this plastic bowl of chicken, proffered it to my mother, and said, "Have some chicken."  Mom, unaware of the honor that was being bestowed upon her, looked at that rather unappetizing plastic bowl of plain boiled chicken and said, "Oh, my, I've eaten so much today that I don't think I could possibly eat anything else!"

Stunned silence fell over the room.  Mama Kibugi looked at my mother with an uncomprehending stare.  "But it's chicken!" she said, giving the bowl a little shake.

Mom looked like a deer caught in the headlights.  I was just a little too far from her to be able to kick her under the table.  So I looked at her with a deadly serious expression on my face, and said quietly but firmly through clenched teeth, "Mother, eat chicken."

Mom got the message.  She said, "Well, I'll just have a small piece, then!" and helped herself to a chicken wing.  Everyone smiled, the rest of us each took a piece of chicken, and pleasant conversation resumed.  An international incident had been averted.

A few years later, Mama Kibugi and one of her sisters came to the U.S. to visit her son.  My mother invited them to their house for dinner.  And of course, she served chicken!

Here are two pictures of the Kibugi family.  The first one is of Mama Kibugi (wearing the dress that her son had sent her), with her sons, daughter-in-law, and grandson.  The second is of her two sisters.

Here are some recipes for Kenyan tea, irio, and githeri.


Kenyan Tea

A pot of freshly-brewed black tea, brewed very strong  (If you can find tea grown in Kenya, use it.)
Milk which has been brought to the boiling point
Sugar

Pour equal amounts of strong tea and hot milk into a teacup.  Add lots of sugar.


Irio

1/2 cup dried green split peas
1 lb. potatoes
1 medium onion, chopped
1 cup canned, frozen, or fresh corn (optional)
2 T. vegetable oil
2 T. butter
1 tsp. salt

A note about the corn - Kenyans do not eat sweet corn.  They refer to what they eat as maize, and it is what we would call field corn.  For this dish, they would use fresh (not dried) field corn.

Put the dried peas into about 4 cups of water with the salt.  Bring to a boil, and reduce the heat.  Let simmer for about 20 or 30 minutes, until the peas are beginning to soften.

Peel and dice the potatoes.  When the peas have begun to soften, add the potatoes to the peas.  Continue cooking until the potatoes and peas are both quite soft.

In a small skillet, saute the onion in the vegetable oil and butter until they are soft.  Drain the potatoes and peas (leaving enough liquid to mash them), add the sauteed onions, and mash with a potato masher until they have a smooth consistency.  Stir in the optional corn.

Add salt and pepper to taste.  You may want to add a little butter for flavor, although the Kenyans would probably not use butter at all.  My sister seems to recall Mama Kibugi adding large globs of Crisco to the irio as she mashed it.


Githeri

1 cup dried red kidney beans
1 cup dried corn (see above note on corn - you could use hominy if you can't find dried corn)
1 medium onion, chopped
2 T. vegetable oil
1 tsp. salt

Soak the beans overnight in a large quantity of water.  Add the dried corn and salt, and cook together for about 2 hours, or until both the beans and the corn are soft.  By the time the beans and corn are done cooking, most of the water should have cooked off.

Saute the onion in the vegetable oil, and add it to the githeri.  Stir and add salt and pepper to taste.