Of boiled cow hooves and Ugandan manners

By the time I could differentiate between kikumi and lukumi, I had lost a great deal of money, especially in the matatus. Illustration/John Nyagah   Nation Media Group

By SCOLA KAMAU

Posted  Friday, April 19  2013 

IN SUMMARY

• Greetings are important to Ugandans, and if one does not greet others properly, it is taken as a sign of lack of manners.

Any Kenyan living in Uganda will confess that manners are the hardest test for Kenyans to pass in the eyes of Ugandans.

For the five years I studied and worked in Uganda, I never found any Kenyan who adapted fully to the Ugandan way of doing things. We always stood out like sore thumbs.

Greetings are important to Ugandans, and if one does not greet others properly, it is taken as a sign of lack of manners.

During my time in Uganda, I lived on the outskirts of Kampala, where many Baganda uphold their customs, including women kneeling while addressing their husbands and serving them food, even if the dinner table is above their heads while kneeling — quite a shock to Kenyan eyes.

My Ugandan friend Barbra invited me to their home many times, and, although I enjoyed the food – roast chicken, vinyebwa (groundnut stew) and matooke, it was hard for me to bend my knees to her dad.

Barbra used to laugh at me when I would ask whether they had visitors every day, because of the variety of food they would have for each meal.

Even a poor Ugandan makes five dishes for a meal compared with a well-to-do Kenyan, who will just prepare ugali, sukumawiki and meat.

The popular roast meat, chicken, pork and matooke are also sold on the roadside, unlike in Kenya where such foods are limited to pubs and restaurants.

Boiled cow hooves and cassava is a meal that made me visit Mama Babirye Restaurant in Wandegeya more than four times a week, and any time I visit Kampala.

To my surprise, the greetings at the marketplace, matatus and shops can take at least three minutes, ranging from wasuze otya nyabo (good morning, lady) to how is everyone back at home? (As if I left Kenya that morning). This courtesy extends to the bars and restaurants, where the attendants have a rough time serving Kenyans.

“Welcome, sir/madam, how are you? “How have you been, what can I serve you?” are the standard greetings.

Once I was at a bar where the waitress started the lengthy greeting process when she was quickly cut off: “Wee leta beer mbili!” (Bring two beers!) It was a Kenyan man at the next table.

The matatu drivers and touts are so polite to a Kenyan ear that they seem to beg passengers to board, and enquire incessantly whether anyone wishes to alight at the next stage.

We Kenyans used to hang out in groups so that we could speak Swahili because conversing in English throughout was tiring. There is no other means of communication between Kenyans and Ugandans, so we had our accents as we struggled to understand each other.

Kenyans studying at Makerere University would hang out at Wandegeya at One Ground Zero, where reggae was played every Monday.

The beer was cheaper than at Angenua, Fat Boys and Silk, where “high class” students hung out, save for the beginning of the semester, when Kenyans were loaded with cash.

Ugandans have a perception that Kenyans, especially students, have a lot of money, because of the lavish lives they live at the expense of their parents, who lead humble lives back in Kenya to save every coin for their sons and daughters studying across the border.

Currency dilemma

Dealing with Ugandan currency was hell. By the time I could differentiate between kikumi, pronouncedchikumi (Ush100, Ksh4) and lukumi (Ush1,000, Ksh40), I had lost a great deal of money, especially in thematatus, which they call taxis. What Kenyans call taxis or cabs are called special hire in Uganda. It was all very confusing!

After failing the currency exam many times in matatus, my Kenyan friends and I decided we had had it, and it was time to recoup our losses.

From Wandegeya to our hostel was at least Ush500 (Ksh20). I was asked to sit next to the conductor this day, as my six other friends took their positions. We were the only passengers in the vehicle. Along the way, my friend Frederick, who was seated at the back with two other Kenyan girls, shouted, “Wasee mjipange!” (Guys, get ready!)

My friend Leah whispered to me that we were supposed to take off fast as soon as we alighted because no one was going to pay for the ride. Gosh! As everyone got out we pointed at Frederick, meaning he was to pay for us. As he got off, he pretended to dig into his pockets to come up with our fare.

The expectant conductor could not believe his eyes when, all of a sudden, everyone dashed up the path to the hostels laughing.