By DANIEL WESANGULA and GAKIHA WERU

Nothing says it is Christmas more intensely than the wafting aroma of it cooking on a cast iron pan over a charcoal jiko. On a day that even the sun seems to shine brighter, this exotic meal drives the appetites of both the young and old to their peak.

And at that late lunch table after an unusually long church service that is at times preceded by a midnight vigil, menus of both the rich and the poor have a common feature — chapatis.

Yet although the meal has become a staple in many Kenyan families, the origins of this round, golden brown, spotted meal are as exotic as Christmas itself and it can be traced back tens of thousands of years to the Middle East.

Chapati is a product of wheat. According to one encyclopedia, wheat was growing wild in what was once the Fertile Crescent of the Middle East as einkorn and emmer.

It is believed that wheat first grew wildly before it mutated to more productive varieties suitable for domestic farming. Research shows wheat was growing in Syria, Jordan, Turkey and Iraq more than 10,000 years ago.

South Asian origin

According to Godfrey Ouda, the executive chef at The New Stanley hotel in Nairobi, the origins of the chapati enjoyed in Kenya and East Africa can be traced to South Asia.

“Before the art of making the chapati was exported to East Africa, the Indians were making something similar called naan, which is also a flat bread.

“It is cooked in what is called a Tandoori which is actually a clay oven. What is probable is that when it got to East Africa, people became more creative and discovered it can also be fried in oil in a pan,” says Ouda.

The roti, which originated from India and Pakistan, is also similar to the chapati. It is also popular in places like, Guyana, Jamaica, Trinidad and other islands in the Caribbean’s where the Indian Diaspora is to be found.

The unleavened bread in Old Testament is also similar to chapati though cooked over open charcoal. It is eaten during the Feast of Unleavened Bread observed by Jews immediately after Passover.

Since the contact between Asia and the East coast of Africa dates back centuries, researchers believe it is the building of the Kenya-Uganda railways that took the chapati to the Kenyan interior. The railway was built largely using Indian coolies who must have brought the roti with them.

Chapati specialist

From being made by Indians, now, almost every family has a ‘chapati specialist’ whose expertise is called upon whenever occasions demand.

“Of course there are many people today who eat chapati frequently. But it is important to remember many others can only afford to put it on the table once a year,” says Ouda.

Oblivious to the origins of this delicacy Mzee Frederick Ole Kirumba, 70, was among the hundreds of village children whose Christmas holidays were defined by this solitary item in the menu way back in his boyhood.

Growing up in Kiserian, he had everything a Maasai boy would wish for; cow blood mixed with milk for breakfast. Every other meal after that was meat-based.

So for him and his age mates, eating meat was no such big deal. Like most of their generation, the thing to look forward to was Christmas.

“We would follow the aroma to manyattas that had already put the pan on the fire dispatching the smell of frying oil towards the surrounding manyattas,” he says.

Legend has it that in some villages, frying pans were few and far apart. Families were forced to book the pan well in advance from the more ‘enlightened’ families of pastors or teachers. But booking was not enough to ensure a Christmas with chapatis.

Meal time among many families entirely depended on the time the pan owner decided to make her chapatis. Were she to delay, some would have their chapatis on Boxing Day but still have a smile on their faces.

And their lifted spirits had very little to do with the birth of a baby boy in faraway Bethlehem. All the smiles, grins and secret winks exchanged between siblings were driven by the knowledge that on Christmas day, chapati would be on the menu.

“It was not about Christmas. It was all about the meal. Chapati used to transform my life at least once a year. I can still smell tantalising aroma of chapati sizzling in salad oil,” Mzee Kirumba recalls.

Although Kenyans celebrate Christmas in different ways nowadays, the tiny bits that Safaricom CEO Michael Joseph infamously tagged as peculiarities still persist.

For instance, every year sees an urban-rural exodus that leaves most city streets deserted as families go back to the village to touch base with their roots during the festive season. Many say they do this to have “proper celebrations” without becoming a bother to their urban neighbours.

“In the village you have the space and opportunity to do it as you wish. You don’t worry about the noise levels when celebrating to odd hours of the night or a drunk driver taking you home,” says Zacharia Opicho.

The other advantage of a village Christmas, says the 36-year-old Opicho, is having whatever you need where you are and at the right price.

And just as it was during Mzee Kirumba’s time, there is another common thread, other than chapatis that cuts across all social groups and faiths; goat meat.

“If you want a goat to slaughter, you walk to your pen or approach a neighbour across the fence to sell you one, go home with it, slaughter the animal and the festivities begin,” says Opicho.

While relatives in the village stroll into goat pens and pick the fattest of all for the feast, the more urban who chose not to have their Christmas away from the city bright lights will equally walk to the nearest butchery and buy the meat.

The more adventurous and richer among them simply drive out of town to the nearest open air market and buy the goat. All this is washed down by cold beer in drinking sessions that at times last for days.

The interaction between the goat and the chapati was not limited to the dinner table alone. In some instances, one was a means towards getting another.

“Back in the day, money was difficult to come by. Sometimes, parents would have to sell a goat to buy wheat flour. One goat would sell at Sh2 that was just about enough to buy to wheat flour and rice,” says Mzee Kirumba.

Just like that, carols or no carols, Christmas for the Ole Kirumbas was well on course. But not every parent could afford to sell a goat to buy wheat flour that sold at Sh1.50 a kilogramme.

Raising such funds at a time when barter trade was still a recognised form of business was a serious project that required lots of ingenuity.

Julius Gitau, 66, recalls that he would join other boys and girls in forming entertainment troupes. They would then move from village to village dancing and singing for residents in return for grains such as maize and beans.

In turn they would them sell to Asian shopkeepers and get money for wheat flour.

Western tradition

Although Christmas is a Western tradition to Africa, cost has ensured that Africans have had to come up with unique and affordable meals away from the dictates of Western tradition.

Ouda of The New Stanley points out that while Europeans and Americans will cook turkey for Christmas, the cost is rather on the higher side. A kilo of turkey costs about Sh800 meaning that a whole bird will cost the upwards of Sh10,000.

“It makes more practical sense to buy meat; 1 kg is enough to make stew for a whole family. Besides, a turkey is very complicated to cook. If you boil it like a chicken the result will be a disaster and you might never want to eat turkey again,” said Ouda.

Goats make a natural substitute. They are easily reared at home and fattened for Christmas and they are also cheaper than turkeys. A spot check around markets in the city showed that for Sh3500, one would get a reasonable bargain.

As constant as Christmas is to the Roman calendar, so, it seems, are a few items of choice on the Kenyan Christmas menu. A pinch of chapati here, a sprinkling of goat and chicken there, a dash of beer and just like that — the making of a Kenyan Christmas is complete.

Source: Daily Nation