No, mutura is not beneath me. And quite frankly, I don’t think I will ever get over my love for this treat. Yes, it’s a treat. 😜 I have a sneaky suspicion that I will be rich one of these days, I will have an urbane home in one of these leafy suburbs of Nairobi because God knows it’s hard to extricate yourself from this city of necessary evils, but my prized possession will be my farm house. I do plan to live on a farm. Even with all my money, I will continue to indulge in mutura. When the craving shall strike, I will leave my swanky ride and take a mat so I can make a very necessary stop and nurse my mutura craving. I will still be my slender self so I won’t need to go to extreme measures to camouflage the evidence of my wealth. Even in those days, I will blend in. Who am I kidding…
The best way to enjoy mutura is when that craving strikes. You don’t just eat it the way you would eat say tea with bread for breakfast (sooo unimaginative) or your weetabix with milk and fruits ( thank you for breaking the cycle of unimaginative breakfasts). The craving for mutura does not sneak up slowly on you. It pounces on you. Weighs heavily on the faculties that control your desire for food and whatnot. You simply cannot ignore it! And it will stay with you until it is taken of. Oh yes. You will be walking down the road, minding your own business, deliberately ignoring how the aroma of mutura sizzling on a barbecue jiko, shuffling your way with resolved determination all the while trying not to look at the rolls of this amazing mood booster from the corner of your eye. The sound of your voice saying “nikatie ya twenty” will sound so foreign to your ears, you will probably turn around to look at whoever is talking. Then you will smile a resigned smile, pick the spoon from the kachumbari bowl and celebrate losing the battle.
My colleague (Antony), mind you he’s almost South African ( don’t pay too much attention to this) tried to quit eating mutura. Can you imagine that! Ati quit, like it’s an addiction! Sometimes we walk from jobo to the stage and grab some , so he stopped walking with me. Like I would cause him to relapse or something. He even got his girl to be his sponsor, sort of . Well, she went ahead and bought him mutura for Kshs.100 (My fellow indulgees, I know!) as his last treat. Incase you are not following, that’s a lot of mutura!
Out of curiosity, do people with other addictions do the same. Let’s say, an alcoholic. Do they drink themselves into a stupor before deciding to walk through the redeeming doors of rehab? Suffice to say, Antony lost that battle. Miserably. Although I did offer to buy him on several occasions. 😸😸
He lost that battle because of this new joint run by some ladies ( I know what you are thinking), an old chap with a very interesting toothy grin, and a boy. I work in Mihang’o. It’s in Nairobi and yes, it’s on Google maps. Muturas, if we may, made in this place are different. They use matumbo (tripe) mixed with spring onions and I don’t know what else for the filling as opposed to using the blood filling, the one I am used to. I am all for new experiences so am not one to twist my nose and shun a new thing. They are quite delicious. Different, but delicious.
How did I find this mutura joint run by ladies? Yes, one random day we were walking past it when I noticed very clean mutura. I literally had to stop and look again. It looked like mutura. So the next logical action was to taste it. Ghai fafa! It was mutura. And it was delicious!!!!!
I grew up in Mukuru kwa Reuben. So trust me, I can tell you a quite much about mutura. And no, that stuff they serve you in supermarkets, Do. Not.Take. The. Name. Of.Mutura.In.Vain. And label them as such. So, I know you can swear by the taste of mutura, but delicious is not quite the term you’d use to describe that explosive taste. But theirs was delicious. And the chopping boards are oddly clean. C’mon now, don’t put that pretentious face on now. You know. You know mutura joints are not exactly clean. If I went on to describe in depth exactly how clean they are not, somebody may decide to not come near that amazing treat. If I described in depth how it is the same hands that touch the mutura while arranging it on the jiko , hold the knife that is used to measure portions and cut, receive money and put it in the pocket of the dust coat that we will not describe here or any other forum… Hahaha, How is that we indulgees* are never bothered by this?
Another thing, which is the only buzz kill about this place, is that they don’t make kachumbari. Now, I don’t know who convinced them that this is a good idea. I have asked them to introduce it severally, am considering giving up and just be happy with the good thing we currently have going on.
The soup, do not even get me started on the soup! Somebody please explain why they have to do that thing they do with the kibuyu…I guess it wouldn’t be quite the same if they didn’t shake it the way they do. The flavour wouldn’t be just right like say if they decided to scoop it straight from the boiler and pour in your cup (which are always metallic. If they serve you in any other cup, say melamine, you are not getting the authentic stuff). And the boiler in this place is clean! It doesn’t have layers upon layers of soot. The cups , the plates with salt, the knives, the damn jiko, yaani , everything is clean. Obviously it’s the lady factor.
Another interesting bit, (read this in a whisper) they have a place to wash hands. After you eat mutura, the
smell , no, aroma, lingers. On your fingers, on your breath. Me thinks, as a mutura indulgee, that I can really use this since I always sort out my breath with some PK. *Wink*
In case you want to sit down, which is not common practice for mutura indulgees, well, they got you covered. Lady factor maybe? no? yes?