When I
lived in the US, I tried to connect with Kenyans and other Africans. So I met
this group of Kenyans living in Boston, Massachusetts in 2008. Kariuki,
Waruingi and Omondi shared a house in Waltham, close to Brandeis University.
They were a fun loving, adventurous and a hilarious trio, which is why I loved
their company. Since Lewiston, Maine is only two and a half hours to Boston, we visited
each other at least every few months especially during Kenyan holidays.
One
day, I received a call from Kariuki, who we all called Karis:
Karis:
You have any plans for Jamhuri day? It is this Saturday
Me:
Not really. What do you guys have in mind?
Karis:
We have a goat! We have been fattening him for 3 days! So Nyama Choma (roasted meat) pap!
Me:
What? Where did you get a goat from in Boston?
Karis: At a farmer’s market. Our nosy neighbor Mrs. Phillips thinks it’s a pet. The
day we bought him, he kept meeeeing through the night and she (the neighbor) came
out in her pjs and asked us to shut the freaking goat up. Omosh (Omondi) with his
acting skills started crying crocodile tears.
Wa Phillips (a common way Kikuyus refer to the wife of or the mother of) was
touched by his tears so she asked what was up. Guess what craaazy Omosh said?
Me:
Yeah? What?
Karis:
That we had rescued the poor goat! That we had found the goat meeing on
Chestnut Street. He was lost and we were now housing him. Sheesh! Count on
Omosh to cook up a story and add condiments! He even claimed that we had
already named the goat ‘Mueni’!
Me:
haha! That’s creative! Am game so I will come on 12th. No goat for
me though. I have become a vegetarian?
Karis:
Nkt! Stop behaving like an American! You will eat goat and you will be incharge
of making some yummy guacamole. Nkt! Ati vegetarian!!
So on
12th I took an Amtrak train to Boston and Omosh picked me up from
the Boston South station. We were excited to see each other after 4 months. So
he updated me on the goat festivities. Here’s his version of the story:
Heee! So wacha nikushow (Let me
tell you)! Mrs. Phillips left last evening for Connecticut to see her son. We
were happy she was going away coz we weren’t sure how to malizia Mueni with her
snooping around our place. So once she was gone, we took Mueni to our backyard.
Heeee!
He
paused for suspense.
“Endelea
na story! So what happened?
So we were about to maliz Mweni
when suddenly there was a flashlight on my face! It was jioni (night) you know.
Kumbe it was cops! They were doing regular patrol in the neighborhood when they
noticed some activity in our backyard and came to investigate! Si we were in
trouble? Heee! So the cops were like: Hands where we can see them!
It turns out that unlike in
Kenya where we can slaughter a goat in the back yard so long as it has been inspected;
the U.S.
Department of Agriculture regulates many of the processes by which animals are
slaughtered here. It has to be done in a plant. There is also the Humane Methods of
Slaughter Act. Heee! huku manzee ni kucomplicated! (here things are
complicated)
So anyway, the cops let us go
but with a warning. They called animal control and they took Mweni away. So no
nyama choma. But we bought some chicken.
It
turned out to be a fun evening with my friends. But they learnt a lesson:
America sio Kenya (American is not like Kenya). They are laws and slaughtering
an animal can get you into lots of trouble.When
Mrs. Philips returned from Connecticut, she inquired about Mueni the goat.
Omosh was ready with a story: They had found Old Larry, the goat’s owner. And
the two were happily reconciled.
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