MY ROOM-MATE IS THE WORST CHEF EVER!!

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Food has always featured preliminarily in the hierarchy of needs. In this new campus life, feeding is mandated to be a major event of the daily routine. Hunger on the same point, has proved to be a common stimulus that keeps man on toes. For the holy document states that unless man works, he has no right to food. I would, if inspired, add to the whole pieces of spiritual writings that hunger is a prevailing disease that needs daily dosage.  An individual going for two days without a bite on food is like signing an emergency ticket to the ICU. So I believe that hunger is a mutual must-have disease. I don’t know if you agree with my stand on this, do you? May be. May be not. But just bear with me. Read also how-students-survive-with-only-one-meal-a-day

You might have been rushing to the canteens, hotels or some luxurious cafeteria for your meals during the day. But for guyz from primitive gated backgrounds, it’s a different stuff. We stick to our self-prepared meals. Food that you wouldn’t throw careless complaints to the innocent waitress. You just cook what eases your ‘hunger disease.’ So you eat to your fill. More so, you can cook at any time of the day so long as the kitchenette is free. Read how-students-at-egerton-university-suffer-in-the-kitchennet

Making the highlight of the day is my roommate.  Being a Kiambu seed, the guy sticks to their primitive way of  feeding. (I don’t mean to be hash). With the close range between our existence,  we undoubtedly get along well more than you can imagine and the dude is amazingly crazy. We do almost all stuffs together except cooking Ugali. Ahem! Did I tell you that am from that county of maize cropping? My sense of food is quite unique. Of course you wouldn’t guess. But now you know. Literally, our Ugali is relatively far different from that of Kiambu. So my room-mate wouldn’t just impress my taste buds. But he surely does good cooking. With the
Volatile aroma and the lined signs of joy on his face each time he takes a bite of it, I wouldn’t explain more.

I hadn’t, till then, tasted Ugali prepared by his cooking prowess despite having multiple chances of feasting on his unique meal; mokimo. A meal that you eat with minimal chewing. Probably not for real men like me.(just saying) It all went down last week when we had no choice but to prepare this African meal in the same pot. I had been struggling through hell as my favorite team got mauled shamelessly in a row. You know that team; The one that has many trophies and the greatest football history… So, the guy did all the cooking. Mine was to sit back and wait anxiously to bisect the same Ugali. Of which I would take a greater portion with no compromise.  Meanwhile, I kept his hind muscles busy with my wide collection of humorous dry jokes. (you know those natural jokes, like akpos’. But a little funnier) And food was ready sooner than I expected.  Had I noticed his fast cooking skills earlier, I wouldn’t be a chronic late culprit for lectures.

Meanwhile, instant pangs of hunger kept on tormenting my empty stomach with groans and growls. My body rejuviniated in anxiety. My alimentary tract dried as I felt my dry tongue squrting gulps of saliva to the crust of my
intestines. I guess the food was just ready in time. The welcoming aroma kept my salivary glands active. Such are times when you realize how important food is. You will for once get worse on feeding than this guys from that poultry lifestyle part of Kenya.

I went ahead and had a bite on the Ugali before dipping it into a gel-soup of omena that were still having their shiny eyes popped out. Sigh… Judas of Nazareth! I mean, Jesus… Iscariot! The confusion that maintained the gap between my lips was so strange. I felt cheated. So I went on and had a second bite. The taste was even more of what it seemed to be. Not edible! “Ni Bangi gani umeweka kwa ugali wewe?” I asked in astonishment. But he kept on saying it was nothing harmful. The finality in his statement wasn’t welcoming any more questions. Till he noticed how clinically my corneas were gazing at the vapourizing slice of Ugali. This is when he uttered casually,

Ni chumvi nilieka. Si sumu! Kwani utakufa?

What the HELL! Salt in Ugali! Was he doing some acid base reaction! Never seen… Never heard… Never imagined this before! And he went on eating. Singing through his nasal cavity justifying a delicious feeling down his gut. This really, was his sweetest meal. But to me it was a surprise. A classical definition of a nightmare!  Or could it be an April fools prank. But why on food. Why me? Why always the cool guyz? This was completely strange and I couldn’t have any other awkwardly tasting bite. He claimed that it’s a common technique of cooking back in his roots though. And if that’s true, then I don’t wish to ever live in Kiambu.

As if that hadn’t deserved a Guinness record, the guy takes porridge with Ugali! Surely! I thought Ugali is compliment to different nutritional foods. Someone save me from this Sahara of confusion. Not even my Homo Habilis grandma would take this as normal. Am sure she would clearly WARN my great great great and greater grandmas how incompatible the two are. And it’s not that this guy is too much financially limited, in fact he spends more than a dollar daily.

Never seen this before and probably there won’t be any other, crazier then this in future. I wonder if such dudes exist in other campuses. I don’t suppose ‘no’ is the only answer though. Please help me figure this out. If ‘yes’, then I should dream to adapt to the same.

I guess, One man’s meat is another man’s Ugali!

Comments

comments

3 COMMENTS

  1. hak a Mungu kifo,am dead ghhiii ha ha haaa!beib stik 2 ua individual kuking if u don’t wanna die.ridiculous!!!

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