Musings on Ugali

Every great novel has one or two grand, overarching themes. These are what people relate to, what they remember after they have savored that deliciously fulfilling last page and the details inevitably begin to fade away like the taste from last night’s dinner. If I were to write a novel about my time in Kenya, the grand, overarching theme would be marriage. Certainly not love, but rather marriage. The idea of marriage seems to have taken over all of Kenya in a way that, to be honest, baffles me. Every man seems to want to be newly married, including those who are already hitched. Let the prosecution draw attention to Exhibit A: the recent conversation between Rogers, the random street stall Kenyan that I pass daily, and me.

I walk past his stall in my all too habitual “I’m-in-a-hurry-and-have-no-desire-to-have-the-exact-same-small-talk-conversation-with-you-that-I-had-with-the-guy-three-stalls-down” American sort of way. Of course, like the guy three stalls down, Rogers flags me down by extending his arm for the handshake that is more omnipresent here than religion. I walk over, losing my impatience quickly to his wide grin.

“Habari?” (How are you?) I greet in my overly friendly foreigner way, hand and lips outstretched.

“Ahh, Nzuri sana. Sema Poa!” (Very fine. You speak well!)

I give myself a mental high five. Ya, I’m good like that. Then, I immediately switch to English.

I wait patiently and respond appropriately to the inevitable Where are you from?, How long have you been in Kenya?, and What’s your name? until we get to our point of interest.

“I’m Rogers, and this is my wife Rachel. Can I marry you?”

Well, that’s odd… Maybe I just didn’t hear correctly. “Sorry, excuse me?”

“Can I marry you?”

“But… you just introduced me to your wife.”

“That’s ok. She could use some extra help around the house.”

And there sits Rachel, nodding approvingly.

I make my normal excuse of being late to work and walk away as gracefully as the combination of uneven mud and tractionless flip-flops will allow. Jokes on you Rogers, I’m a crappy cleaner. Ha!

Over the past few weeks, he’s become progressively creepier, from renewed marriage proposals to pulling me in to a hug and going for an unsuccessful kiss with such awkwardness that even a seventh grade boy would cringe at his (not so) smooth moves. I’ve started taking a different route to work.

But funny stories aside, I’d like to understand more about how Kenyans think about marriage, since it is thought about so differently here than I’m used to. The men, for instance, seem to be obsessed, since I get a proposal almost on a daily basis, although it’s slowed down since I’ve made the decision to start telling random men who walk with me on the street that I’m married. The women, on the other hand, seem less than thrilled, as my host sister laughs about her boyfriend of 6 years wanting to get married (She has no intention of marrying him right now, and has said that she wants to concentrate on her career instead).

Perhaps my feminist side is skewing what I see, but it seems as though there is a revolution going on in the thoughts of Kenyan women. They are strong, powerful women, who can see themselves independently of boyfriends and husbands, instead of the meek, ever-obedient African women that I was expecting to find. Though this is certainly not the case across the board (I read a heartbreaking report today for work of a woman who died after having 11 children at home because her husband refused to allow her the money to deliver at a hospital, and wife-beating is still shockingly cavalier here), this trend is certainly encouraging for women everywhere.

Despite the fact that many of the women I’ve met are not seeking to be married, it’s still joked about quite a bit. My host sister tells me every time I make ugali that I’m officially marriage material, despite the fact that I think even Rogers would turn his nose up at my ugali. I’ve become the official house cook for the dog’s ugali, but I’m hoping to soon graduate to the role of making ugali  for the family under the extremely close watch and occasional helping stir of Priscilla, our sweet yet spunky house girl.

Now, I would be remiss to have a cooking blog about Kenya without mentioning ugali. As the staple food, ugali is eaten at almost every meal. It’s a dense mixture of corn flour and water with the consistency of mashed potatoes without any water. By itself, it won’t win any “Best in Show” awards in food tasting contests, but if you squash a ball with your fingers (as Kenyans do), and use the ugali to pick up fried vegetables, well, you probably still won’t win any “Best in Show” awards. But it will be pretty darn tasty, and very filling!

So, without further ado, I present the recipe for ugali (again, feel free to play around with measurements), my best hope for getting a Kenyan husband! I shouldn’t even joke about that…

Ugali (serves 3ish)

Prep time: 20-30 minutes, depending on your arm strength

Supplies: Stove, Pot that can take a bit of mess, wooden spoon for stirring, strong arms (Seriously, making this is a work-out!)

Ingredients: 4 c. water, 5 c. corn flour (I used a millet and cassava mix for this, which makes it brown, but it tastes much better with corn flour, which makes the much more typical white ugali)

      1)   Heat the 4 c. water to boiling on the stove.

      
      2)   Slowly add in flour 1 c. at a time, stirring with each addition.

      3)   The ugali should become very thick very quickly. When you have added in all the flour, there should be no liquid left. If there is, add in more flour.

      4)   Stirring is the hardest part. Pull all the ugali onto one side of the pot using the wooden spoon, then turn the whole mass over and start again. Look at the hand positions in the pictures. It helps!

      5)   After around 10-15 minutes of cooking, place the mass on a plate, pair with meat or cooked veggies, and enjoy!