Shamba Shenanigans

A few weeks ago we were invited to go and stay with Janet at her family’s shamba.  Janet graduated from high school last year, made possible through a scholarship from the ASSETS program that A Rocha Kenya runs.  She is now living at the centre for a few months to gain work experience and offer help running the centre. It was a privilege to be asked to go and stay with her, as it would be our first trip to a typical Kenyan village.  We are keenly aware that living here at the field study centre, we do not share the average living standard for a Kenyan.  Having running water, electricity, computers, appliances etc sets this place apart from most Kenyan dwellings.  So we were eager to experience the real Kenya. 

The first part of the adventure was getting there.  Janet’s family live on the south side of the Arabuko-Sokoke Forest, maybe 80 kms from here as the pied crow flies.  For the first leg of the journey we got a lift to Kilifi.  We did some grocery shopping there (thankfully with Janet translating) and it was clear that wazungu (white people) do not come to Kilifi as often as they come to Watamu.  Plenty of wide-eyed children walking past us.  From there we needed to catch a bus to Vitengeni. The bus looked like it was taking passengers, so we boarded, but before long Janet left us to complete some last minute shopping.  A long wait ensued as the driver waited, not for a schedule, but simply for when he thought the bus was full enough to make the trip profitable.   They started the motor to encourage shoppers to finish what they were doing and board the bus.  We nervously waited for Janet to arrive, while trying to come up with a plan B if the bus left without her!  Finally she returned and a few minutes later, maybe 1 hour after boarding, the bus took off.  After a 2 hour drive we were grateful to alight and stretch our legs and get some fresh air.  Now we were in Vitengeni and we felt whiter than ever with all the stares and giggles being sent our way.  Our final challenge was to get 3 people, 3 school bags, a box of groceries and one mattress to Janet’s shamba, a couple of kilometres down the road.  The means was 3 motorbikes and I don’t know how but somehow we and our luggage all arrived safely.  The young drivers seemed thrilled to be able to drive wazungu for a change and everyone who we drove past gave them a knowing smile and a thumbs up. 

Nearly 4 hours after we set off on our journey, we arrived at the family shamba.  Most people in Kenya live in shambas – the family plot of land with a garden growing most of their food, and a few buildings often shared by a husband and his wife (or wives), grown children and their families, grandparents and lots of children.  Janet’s family have 3 main buildings in their shamba, 1 mud and thatch house, a newer house with a tin roof, and a shade house.  They also have a little outhouse, a 3 walled area for bathing and a shelter for drying meat in. 

Upon arrival, we were invited to sit in the shade house with Janet’s father and chat with him.  Gradually his children, mother, first and second wife (referred to by Janet as her big mum and small mum), and a few neighbours, young and old came in to timidly shake hands with us and greet us.  They were able to speak varying degrees of English, we could speak a tiny bit of Swahili but sadly none of their mother tongue Giriama, so that posed some challenges for communication. 

All our meals were eaten with Janet and her teenage brother and sisters and friends.  It’s traditional for the family to split up at meal times and eat with groups their own age.  It was dark by 7 so after dinner (an old chicken that had belonged to Janet and was the toughest chicken meat we’d ever tasted, so chewy they took to finding the more tender parts and handing them to us) we headed outside and sat around the fireplace with the rest of the family.  Now they treated us to many songs, with an upside down plastic drum to provide the beat, and ladies taking turns leading the songs, as everyone else echoed the leader.  Most songs were accompanied by actions, and though we enjoyed the music, the smoke blowing directly into our eyes for the entire performance somewhat detracted from the entertainment. 

We excused ourselves to head to bed, long before anyone else looked tired, so we were ushered into sleep with their songs still rising in the night sky.  As would be expected, we were woken by roosters early in the morning, but managed to snooze until about 6.30.  Everyone else it seems, had already been up for an hour or two preparing food for the day.  Breakfast was a tasty meal and would have classified as a ‘heavy’ breakfast here: Some tasty beans called kunde, boiled cassava in a thick coconut sauce, and plenty of sweet mandaazi (the Kenyan version of doughnuts).

 
Janet serves us breakfast

Shortly after breakfast, Lynton was summoned outside and a goat was handed over to him.  After a quick demonstration, the knife was handed to him, and he had the honour of slaughtering the beast.  Janet’s younger brother took over from there, hanging up the goat in the shelter and then skinning it before chopping it up for the meal.   

To walk off the break-feast and make room for the next, we headed out with Janet and a few of her friends, for a walk around the shamba and down the road to meet some of the neighbours. 

Serious business. (Pictured here with Janet’s father, big mother, small mother, and grandmother.)

 

The dirty deed.

Hands clean, Pontius?

Passing the village dam along the way was an insight into the water quality here.  Usually the dam is used for watering livestock.  But when the usual water supply runs out, people have no choice but to use the murky dam water.  Much to Janet’s concern, many traps are set around the dam to catch birds that come to drink there.  After watching for a few minutes, we saw for ourselves how one got caught and then was quickly removed.

Dam Trap
The sun was beating down with a greater intensity than along the coast at Watamu, and even Janet’s friends were finding it too hot.  But it didn’t stop the young neighbourhood children from following us, and the further we walked, the more followers we gained.  The kids were nearly scared off though, when we chanced to spot a chameleon sitting on a roadside tree.  We were pretty excited to see our first chameleon, with its strange, shaky way of walking and amazing colour-changing capabilities.  The kids were very hesitant though, because as Janet told us, they are all taught that if you get too close, the chameleon can shrink and crawl up your nose.  Apparently myths abound throughout Africa about the bad luck chameleons can bring..

  Cool eyes!

Upon our return to the shamba we were quickly seated in our special seats of honour, treated to fresh coconut water and then given the delicious flesh to munch on.  I wished we had brought a few balls or toys to play with the kids, as they seemed to look expectantly at us to perform tricks or something, but they had to be content with just staring.  Next we were treated to a formal meal with Janet’s father and his first wife.  It was sort of an appetizer to lunch, and I think it was the goat liver cooked with spices.  Janet’s father assured us that we had now become part of the family, his children in fact.      

Perhaps to celebrate that new status, we were then beckoned into the shade house to enjoy a little pre-feast entertainment.  It began with Janet’s father and a few of his friends singing for us, then some of the children joined in, then some of ladies followed, dancing.  We were encouraged to dance as well, much to their amusement.  Then the room got too full and we all moved to the large lounge in the main house.  Now the real party began with a room full of jubilant dancing and singing.  The highlight for me was seeing everyone involved, from the toddler who had not long learned to walk, to the grandmother in her 90’s; it was simple, joyful fun

Lynton and Mum groove away

 
Good times

I think the party could have lasted all afternoon but we needed to squeeze in one more meal before our motorbikes were due to arrive.  We made a valiant effort to consume our fair share of the goat, served with rice and salad.  We got our last practice at eating everything with our hands, perfected the art of scooping up rice without dropping all of it, and then before we knew it, it was time to shake hands with everyone and jump back on the motorbikes. 

The trip home was a lot quicker, just involving 2 matatu trips.  The only newsworthy event was discovering, that the strange ‘goat-like’ noise we kept hearing (at first I thought it was a cellphone) was in fact a goat, tucked in the back of the van and peeking out next to my feet.  

At times awkward (not knowing what to say), at times embarrassing (being treated like royalty, having our every move watched), at times humbling (being shown such generosity), at times eye-opening (to see a little of everyday life for people here), I’m sure the experience will remain as one of the highlights of our overseas trip.   

Fare thee well, Janet’s family 

 

3's a crowd