East Africa Food Riddle

The culture of a nation is reflected in its food markets; the national psyche in its cuisine.

After two months in East Africa, eating whatever is local, with the locals and expats, I was ready to declare the opening sentence false and reconsider the entire premise for my book. From Ethiopia to Rwanda, Uganda to Kenya, then finally Tanzania and there seems to be no evidence of a food culture in any of these countries. How could that be possible?

East Africa is not known for its gastronomic delights. When you say to someone that you will be traveling through East Africa, they usually ask you about safaris and all the animals you will see, or maybe summiting Kilimanjaro and the possible consequences of altitude sickness. But never will anyone salivate at the thought of all the culinary delights that awaits you. Never the less, I believe in my thesis. It has proven true everywhere else I’ve traveled (50+ countries thus far) so why would East Africa be any different?

Injera. A yeast risen flat bread made out of Teff flour, slightly sour, slightly bitter, with a spongy texture, is the national dish of Ethiopia. It is usually topped with meat of some nature. You tear off a piece of injera, grab a little meat with it, and eat it with your hand. It is easier to manipulate than bread. It doesn’t fall apart like rice. Of all the cultures with the tradition of eating with your hands, injera would win the award for being the most practical.

There are a few variety of toppings, or centerpiece if you will, that comes with injera. Wat is a stew of onions, spices and meat (beef, goat, chicken) and tibs is a sauté of onions, meat and spices. Technically a wat is different from tibs; wat is more stew like, while tibs is dryer. Yet on the palate, the difference is akin to a Snickers Bar with peanuts versus almonds. Kitfo is an Ethiopian specialty, a raw or semi-raw ground beef marinated in chili powder, served with injera. Tere Sega is cubes of raw beef with chili powder on the side for dipping. Injera is served and eaten morning, noon and night. It is imperative you grow a taste for injera if you are to survive in Ethiopia. I like injera just fine, but the lack of variety from the wat to tibs to kitfo to tera sega is troubling; a bit of meat, cook, semi-cooked, uncooked, with chili powder. Alrighty.

What about vegetable? Fruit? They are available at the markets. I see them, yet I seldom see them being eaten or incorporated into any dish. Curious.

In Rwanda, I ask Matt what is there to eat, typical of Rwanda. He looks at me blankly. He has been living in Kigali for six years. I got the same reaction from both Jock and Kimberly, another set of expats. Jock is of the opinion that Rwandans have little imagination and it translates into a lack of food culture. This is an opinion I have trouble accepting. How could that be? There has to be a better explanation.

The Belgium and German colonists left Rwandans with the word beef brochette (beef skewers), if not the dish itself and lots of potatoes. Lake Kivu produces these tiny fish, it is sun dried and sold in abundance in the markets. The locals boil the dried fish and it is served with a starch such as rice.

There is a good variety of produce, herbs, and legumes in the markets of Kigali. Tomatoes are everywhere and sold in massive qualities. Except, I am not sure how the Rwandans eat them, as I have not seen a direct one to one translation from the market to the plate. A meal I had at a random local restaurant near the central market in Kigali consisted of a thin broth of beef with a chunk of meat in it (very chewy) and a giant plate of rice and beans. A bit tomato and onion took a quick bath in the broth as it left a tiny bit of its flavor and coloring behind but not much else. Ugali (a flavorless massive starchy lump made from maize or cassava flour) is ubiquitous through East Africa and is consumed in massive quantity interchangeable with rice and beans.

The abundance of international aid in Rwanda translates into decent (for East Africa) Western cuisines and that is pretty much what all the expats defaults to. Can you blame them? Pizza or boiled sun dried fish over rice?

The food in Uganda gets marginally better. Over lunch one day, I had a flavorful fish (Nile Perch) in a broth with tomatoes, onions, and garlic. Along with it there is a large plate of starch: rice, beans, matoke (mashed green plantains), a piece of boiled pumpkin and a tiny bit of boiled spinach. The offerings at the market are on part with Rwanda and Ethiopia; a healthy variety of produce, fruits, meat and fish. Except the local food culture centers around giant quantity of simple starch (rice, matoke, ugali, pasta) with a little protein and even less vegetables. The preparation methods are simple and food does not seem to be central to their lives. It is neither a topic of conversation nor point of celebration.

Indian influence is starting to creep in Uganda and you can find chapti sold on street corners. “Rollex” is chapti with a fried egg rolled up together, rather delicious and a nice change from the long parade of white bread. Much like Rwanda, it is easier to find an acceptable Western meal than a delicious local one.

I am baffled.

There is no shortage of produce in the markets but why is there so little variation in its perpetration or consumption? For a region where food security and scarcity has been a constant concern why do they not cure, salt, can, pickle, preserve to make sure the abundance of today last into tomorrow?

I hope for a more interesting food discovery in Kenya and Tanzania. The Swahili coast is a summation of Arab, Persia, Far East and Africa. These are food rich cultures and I hope to taste the myriad of spices available in the cuisines.

Nyama Choma (barbecued meat) is everywhere in Kenya. In the markets, you can find shop with a grill out front and a leg of lamb, a side of beef, being grilled. The meat is not seasoned before it is shown fire and only salted right before serving. Nile perch, tilapia and catfish is common inland and it is usually fried. Chapi, ugali, matoke and rice are still the basic choice for starch to accompany the meat or fish. Mandazi is a dense fried doughnut. Slightly sweet and is great in the morning when its fresh but it gets rather rubbery once it cools off.

On the coast of Mombasa and Zanzibar, Indian and Persian influence are unmistakable in the forms of samosa, biryani and pilau, except each dish still retains its original form, never so much improvised upon, adopted or incorporated. The samosa you will find in Stone Town is identical to the samosa across the Indian Ocean.

Coconut, coriander, star of anise, cinnamon, cloves, cumin are grown on Zanzibar yet the local dishes are not bursting with those flavors. It is more ugali, BBQ meats, potatoes, sun dried fish, and chipati; all made simply. The markets are bursting with herbs of every variety yet they never seem to show up on the plate.

I don’t understand this. I started to share my food quandary with every local I can chat up.

Pam, the Tanzanian lady working at the dive shop…

“Pam, why are there so little spices in the food that is made on an island known for spices.”

“People here don’t cook much with it. Most of the spices are exported. The food here in Zanzibar is terrible. Next time you come to Tanzania, I will take you to my home town where the food is amazing.”

“What is the best thing to eat in your home town?”

“Ugali!” Pam exclaims.

With a cab driver…

“What is your favorite food? What is the best thing to eat in Mombasa?”

“BBQ meat.”

“Just with salt added on the end?”

“Yes.”

“But there are all these spices available.”

“I’ve tried it but I don’t like it. Now, ugali. That is really good.”

Perhaps the lack of incorporation of spices in the cuisine is a matter of pallet and habit. The local pallet has yet to accustomed itself to all the additional flavors available. Except I still find that to be improbable. Spice cultivation and trading as long been part of Zanzibar’s history. Spices were not introduced a year ago but rather hundreds of years. I can concede to a different pace for adaptation for different cultures but the near invisible pace in which it is happening here in East Africa is befuddling. Could Jock be right? Could they be without imagination?

I step back for a second and thought about the history of Africa.

War and famine has been near a constant in its history. It’s hard to find a long period where there is not a war with the colonists for independence, civil wars with individual fractions with glorious party names invoking freedom, liberation, democracy, or draught, famine and genocide. Feeding masses as efficiently as possible is the main concern; flair and innovation is a luxury African could ill afford.

Kibera, the largest urban slum in Nairobi with a population of 2 million is a city of impermanence, built out of corrugated metal, scrap boards, cardboard — anything they would find.

“Everything is eaten, down to the last crumb. No one has any supplies, for even if someone did have extra food, he wouldn’t have anywhere to keep it, no place to shut it. You live in the immediate, current moment; each day is an obstacle difficult to surmount, and the imagination does not reach beyond the present, does not concoct plans, does not dream.” Ryszard Kapuściński, The Shadow of the Sun.

I’m starting to see now.

The culture of a nation is reflected in its food markets; the national psyche in its cuisine.

I needed to step back and have a broader look at the history of East Africa before I could see the ugali from the spice plantations. Jock is wrong. This is an issue of imagination but a place and culture struggling to survive and could ill afford the luxury of experimentation with what little food they have.