Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Beer and Chips Mayai (Pronounced my eye)
Tore came by to invite us out on the town the invitation sounded like, “Would you like to join us for beer and chips my eye?” The beer part sounded fine but chips and eyes was a little less pleasant sounding. It was a good thing that I had been introduced to the concept of chips mayai earlier as it is a local, or national treasure according to the expat’ crowd. It is simply an omelette with french fries, or chips, in it. I went along and Nik was left to put Abby to bed. I felt bad leaving them behind but it was getting late. Tore came in for a Minute and Abby showed him the Crazy Machines computer game we were playing and then we headed out to meet the rest of the group.
Maria was walking along with Darwa the newly arrived Med student from Holland and Frances and Jennine were close behind and the six of us walked out the gates and into town. It was getting dark and as this was my first excursion I had forgotten a light, which we were on the brink of needing. I was surprised to see bicycles flying along the dirt road with their headlights un-lit. They would approach at speed out of the darkness and ring their bells incessantly until we sprang out of the way.
We passed the Dala Dala stop and walked up to a non-descript pair of buildings with a few people milling around and a fire glowing in a small brick pit. There was a large wok by the fire and a women was minding the fire. We approached and greetings were delivered all around in Swahili along with welcomes and thanks from both sides. We gave the women our numbers and she set out to sort out seating for 6. It didn’t take long and people came out from the pair of buildings with plastic deck chairs for all of us in a couple of minutes. A small table was set out and we all sat round it.
I suppose the “restaurant” we were at could loosely be described as a sidewalk café, as we were not indoors and we were not on the road or dirt track may be a better word for it. There really is no sidewalk so maybe a yard café would be better. It’s difficult to say if it really is a restaurant at all; it has no name and providing directions to others on how to get there is next to impossible.
While we were sitting having our beer and waiting for our meal, Frances received a call from a local man who is a friend of the group. She tried to tell him where we were but had difficulty with the directions. “We are sitting outside…um…at that place…um…oh, we are just beside the blue tarpaulin…there is a Toyota in front.” “Well, actually we shouldn’t be hard to find. We are six white people, speaking English and laughing loudly; you can’t miss us.” And, behold George found us in a surprisingly short period of time. It must have been the laughter. I think that the only directions I could have provided would have been. In town under a vibrantly bright, almost full moon that lights the night, staring up at the most brilliantly sparkling stars I have ever seen.
Our meal was served in a little while shortly after the matron came around with a kettle and basin for us to all wash our hands prior to our meal. I was first and had no clue what I was to do; accept a drink of tea from a washbasin, place the pot on the table for us all to share. I just sort of stammered a moment until Frances informed me it was to wash with. We all washed and then the plates came out. We borrowed some salt, chumvi from the store next door and splashed a bit of chili sauce on and dug in. It was really very good, a perfectly cooked egg with chips that were surprisingly flavourful. We all ate up over light conversation and I think we all had a great time. I think Chips Mayai will be on the menu again. That is, if they had menus…
Maria was walking along with Darwa the newly arrived Med student from Holland and Frances and Jennine were close behind and the six of us walked out the gates and into town. It was getting dark and as this was my first excursion I had forgotten a light, which we were on the brink of needing. I was surprised to see bicycles flying along the dirt road with their headlights un-lit. They would approach at speed out of the darkness and ring their bells incessantly until we sprang out of the way.
We passed the Dala Dala stop and walked up to a non-descript pair of buildings with a few people milling around and a fire glowing in a small brick pit. There was a large wok by the fire and a women was minding the fire. We approached and greetings were delivered all around in Swahili along with welcomes and thanks from both sides. We gave the women our numbers and she set out to sort out seating for 6. It didn’t take long and people came out from the pair of buildings with plastic deck chairs for all of us in a couple of minutes. A small table was set out and we all sat round it.
I suppose the “restaurant” we were at could loosely be described as a sidewalk café, as we were not indoors and we were not on the road or dirt track may be a better word for it. There really is no sidewalk so maybe a yard café would be better. It’s difficult to say if it really is a restaurant at all; it has no name and providing directions to others on how to get there is next to impossible.
While we were sitting having our beer and waiting for our meal, Frances received a call from a local man who is a friend of the group. She tried to tell him where we were but had difficulty with the directions. “We are sitting outside…um…at that place…um…oh, we are just beside the blue tarpaulin…there is a Toyota in front.” “Well, actually we shouldn’t be hard to find. We are six white people, speaking English and laughing loudly; you can’t miss us.” And, behold George found us in a surprisingly short period of time. It must have been the laughter. I think that the only directions I could have provided would have been. In town under a vibrantly bright, almost full moon that lights the night, staring up at the most brilliantly sparkling stars I have ever seen.
Our meal was served in a little while shortly after the matron came around with a kettle and basin for us to all wash our hands prior to our meal. I was first and had no clue what I was to do; accept a drink of tea from a washbasin, place the pot on the table for us all to share. I just sort of stammered a moment until Frances informed me it was to wash with. We all washed and then the plates came out. We borrowed some salt, chumvi from the store next door and splashed a bit of chili sauce on and dug in. It was really very good, a perfectly cooked egg with chips that were surprisingly flavourful. We all ate up over light conversation and I think we all had a great time. I think Chips Mayai will be on the menu again. That is, if they had menus…
