I have always been of the opinion that kibanda food is delicious than some of these things we get served at five star hotels. Although , if i am being a little bit honest, sometimes this sentiment gets forgotten when my pocket is loaded. My friends also happen to be the worst. To them, comfort, style and other nice things come first. They also have a favorite line they like throwing in my face anytime i suggest to them we visit our (not so favorite) kibanda. These instagram photos won’t take themselves.
I agree, they truly are the worst.
Look, you have to agree with me that when it comes to comfort kibandas are not the best place to visit, but no one goes to these joints in search of comfort. You either go there because you know they serve amazing food, or you are just plain broke. Most of the time, you are broke. Do not argue with me. Knowing how a huge percentage of kenyans are wired up, guys only visit local eating joints when hawana kakitu. Otherwise, malls it is and other expensive restaurants. These instagram photos won’t take themselves.
I was in Mombasa last week with my friends. We had an amazing time, we met new people, went to places i didn’t even know existed (story for another day) and came back with all these amazing memories.
One thing however, stuck with me.
Before i even mention it, i have to ask a question that has been bugging me. Whatever happened to Mombasa´s nightlife? A lot looks to have changed since the last time i was there. Or maybe it is just me. I don’t know, but it just doesn’t seem to be as much fun as it used to be.
Anyways.
We woke up on the second day of our holiday starving. Someone wanted us to go and have seafood all the way in south coast. Which was fine you see, only that two of my friends were behaving like they were going to collapse any moment from hunger. Yes, they were dying. In every sense of the word. So, we drive out of our apartment and a few metres from the place, right there in front of our eyes a solution to our problem presents itself.
A local kibanda.
Just next to it´s door is a sign informing us that it’s Biryani day.
I need you to know i was born and raised in Mombasa. It is home to me. I used to eat biryani almost every weekend. It is, to me, like any other meal. But these…..these nairobi peasant friends of mine. You would think they had hit the jackpot. All three of them shouted at once. The car skidded to a halt. No one even asked if anyone was against the idea. It was an unanimous decision. Biryani had to be had. All thoughts of seafood were temporarily forgotten. South coast for who?
Inside, more happiness awaited us.
How much? One of us inquired.
A hundred and fifty bob.
Only? I was tempted to ask. incredible .
The meal came. Look, i have never tasted such happiness in my mouth. (l have actually, recently, but it wasn’t food. If you know, you know.)
Na hiyo pilipili ya kupika, weh. I think i can comfortably say that this is among the best food i have ever eaten. No kidding. Top three. Kudos to that swahili mama for being good at what she does. It is indeed true what they say about food being a part of helping you create wonderful memories. And now every time i think about shanzu, i will always remember that woman´s food and tamarind juice, moving around gracefully with a constant smile (she had hips for days yoh) in that tiny makuti thatched house i would never have looked at twice under different circumstances.
Moving on, second last day to our departure day.
People want biryani. If people want biryani, you give them biryani. We are in town so we decide to visit a famous coastal dishes joint in town. Hint – everyone who comes to mombasa comes here to eat swahili food. Yes, the one you are thinking of. That one.
The thing is, we all expected that kibanda experience to be repeated. Shock on us. We paid 450/= a plate for the wackest meal i have had in a long time- if not ever. Truly, saying the place is overrated is an understatement. I am even tempted to mention the place but, you know, for the sake of peace i will say nothing. Personally i was so disappointed. But i learnt my lesson.
Do not ask me for the moral lesson of the story. Make your own.
