Lessons learnt from kikumis

The boys and I recently decided to pay a visit and sample out kikumi-kikumi food; what non resident campusers call "steaming hot, sumptuous meals." Very tired of the monotony of weevil-filled beans[murram] and the not-so-nice tasting kawunga served in Nkrumah Hall [where all recess male students reside], we headed for a nameless food kiosk near Mulago View hostel.

This period slow as it is and quiet because many colleagues are holiday-making, boredom has held our appetites for a ransom; one has got to feed the stomach more than the normal three times a day!

So we set out ready to disprove the saying that our mother [Nkrumah] was the best chef, if you like. And we arrived at this kikumi-kikumi. The inside was cut-clean as we beheld a mother figure waitress with fat cheeks, big dimples and an open gap in her front set of teeth. God the smile was generous too!

As the delicious aroma from someone flying rice seduced our noses, hunger emerged, our small intestines stirred inside us as our large intestines grumbled impatiently as if to say, "I can't wait to be fed."

We made our order. A balanced diet plate pregnant like mount Elgon went for a mere Shs500. Food ranging from matooke, irish potatoes, offals, potatoes, rice, name it, it was there. Trust campusers, we ate like Oliver Twist; couldn't wait to ask for more but by the time we were done, our sacks aka stomachs couldn't enlarge for more.

Problems though: the food was over-fried, yellowish with too much food colour, and slippery like mucus because of too much oil. Of course Makerereans don't give a hoot but we started to mind when our food compartments began to fill. We soon finished and left expelling unpleasant gas through the rear-end and burping noisily from the stomach through the mouth. It was way too much gas!

For no reason at all, one guy excused himself and threw up there beside the road. Another's teeth had cracked because of too many stones in the beans: "Wrecking the stability of my teeth" is what the guy who had lost a part of his molar termed it.

Rice husks made our bellies stony. It was a lesson hard learnt. And there and then, on that jolly but unfortunate-turned evening we decided that we would rather enjoy our kawunga than think of the 'sumptuous meals' prepared by the big dimpled chubby lady with a generous smile.

--The Daily Monitor, July 24, 2004, page 12