Deep fried potatoes
Whenever my friend Ray travels to Mombasa, I have to overcome my hang-ups about diarrhoea, cholera, worm infestations, amoeba and bacterial infections and join her to sample ‘mapochopocho’, as she calls the snacks that are displayed on most streets. I often accompany her on a culinary excursion with a difference – easy on the pocket, but not for those with easy stomachs.
Our first stop is Mama Ngina drive, near the Likoni ferry crossing. At sunset, this is the place to cool off while catching up on the latest gossip and watching the ships that are coming into and out of the Kilindini harbour. The main reason we go there is for the cassava: roasted cassava, dry on top and soft on the inside; deep fried cassava served with red hot chili and lemon or cassava chips, drained so that they crunch when you bite into them. For the more adventurous, there is plenty of madafu – fresh coconut water. One must allow for about half an hour to lounge on the stone benches and let the food settle before hoping on to a Nissan matatu or tuk tuk and he ading down town.
The streets are teeming with people in a hurry to get home as dusk descends over this old, historic city. We have our sights firmly set on the large heaps of mahamri, which taste like spicy doughnuts to me. Around Mwembe Tayari, tables are lined on the streets, with benches on either side. Usually occupied by men, the heaps of mahamri tend to be so high that one can barely see the person sitting across from him. That does not inhibit the flow of conversation. Although we’re not courageous enough to sit, we let the sing-song of their native Swahili cascade gently over our eardrums as we folk out some cash for take-away mahamri. We pretend that they’ll be our breakfast the next morning, but we know very well that we’ll bite into them as soon as we step away from the table.
Next, we stroll onwards down Jomo Kenyatta Avenue towards Majengo, where we’ve been informed that we can find the sweetest and freshest mabuyu. It’s worth the long walk when we finally suck on them and find that the tangy taste is exactly as we imagined.
To cap off our culinary excursion, we find a lady selling deep fried flavoured potatoes coated with wheat flour. A queue has already built up, and the potatoes seem to disappear as soon as they leave the frying pan. It is with happy mouths and stomachs that we finally receive our share – a bagful of viazi karai, with tamarind juice, popularly known as mkwaju, and chili sauce.
