Clement Kihara is a banker whose lunch typically comprises fresh tilapia and ugali, as offered at the popular Ranalo restaurant in Nairobi and accompanied by music by the resident band, Maroon Commandos. Dinners tend to be a complicated affair — more so when his firm organises “corporate diners” in five-star hotels such as The Stanley, where a rigid dress code and etiquette are observed.
Most Kenyans, especially in the urban areas, now prefer mixing with other people at ‘nyama choma’ places. Photo/FILE
But Kihara does not mind this, with his extensive travels and equally remarkable education, most of which was acquired abroad, he is at home in ties and tails, sipping champagne as he indulges in lengthy conversations on almost anything and everything.
His ultimate entertainment is, however, a retreat to a mugithi session — wherever it is to be found, which is often in makeshift pubs where patrons sit on benches and call barmaids by their first names.
Kihara’s lifestyle is symbolic of a generation of Kenyans that appear at ease in fusing elements of traditional life and a rigid colonial legacy. Typically, middle-class Kenyans were weaned on English mannerisms through school and other socialising agents, and people who climbed up the corporate ladder understood the strict confines within which to operate.
Now all that is changing as middle-class Kenyans ignore the cultural hang-ups and rigidity that their fathers inherited from the British colonialists. This has in turn redefined the whole notion of Kenyanness.
“We are a product of our roots that have been blended with flavours of the world, mostly served through travel, interaction with people from other countries and cultures, but looking for our own handle,” says Adams Oloo, a political scientist at the University of Nairobi.
Also fading is the obsession with the weekend dress-up culture of the 1980s, and more people are choosing a code that blurs their social or financial status. This puts an element of easy, casual wear to fashion.
“I am drawn to the African attire, which is very relaxing,” says Jane Nzisa, a city resident.
At the club scene, the Carnivore may be the pioneer influence in this trend that capitalises on culture as a selling point, organising theme nights which focus on different communities’ music and food.
“Over time the trend has found a life of its own and we are seeing a greater mix of people who come to the venue to enjoy themselves,” says Anthony Nganga, a manager at the Carnivore.
He says that while in the past Kenyans mixed within economic brackets, they are now doing it through an unwritten law founded on the notion of shared musical tastes even when they may not belong to the same financial class. This means that Kenyans have defied definition based on economics.
Faced with the questions, scholars and professionals in the hospitality industry have different views on the development, but agree that the new Kenyan is a mixed grill, a real strange animal that blends flavours from the world to create a unique cocktail.
In the outdoor leisure circuit, Kenyans were once notorious of their stiffness, touted as being more British than the British themselves.
Today, however, they are happy to let their hair down and drive out of town to remote resorts where they sit on logs and enjoy the barbeque.
This has fed the outdoor culture that disregards décor and ambience that defined upmarket nightlife scenes in the past.
The makuti culture which parodies the thatching style associated with the coastal communities, has created a phenomenon drawn from the traditional African village concept.
“Nobody bothers about the cosiness of the place,” says Mike Njenga, a marketing manager in Nairobi. “I have no problem sitting on the pavement for a tasty plate of nyama choma and ugali.”
He is particularly fond of the Kwa Njunguna joint on Waiyaki Way, Nairobi, where he regularly enjoys roast meat and the relaxed atmosphere.
This is also true for David Onyango, a city businessman. “At times one has to battle with flies to reach the food, but that becomes part of the fun,” says Onyango, a regular at Kenyatta market in the city.
Even the conventional nightlife venues have exploited the freedom Kenyans seek in entertainment venues.
The freedom is expressed thus by a manager at Florida night club: “We want ours to remain a place where you can take your Tusker next to a person sipping champagne and not be bothered about what the other is drinking.”
For most, the free mixing of people from different economic backgrounds is a testament of the cultural ambivalence that has become a new factor in urban Kenya. Dr Oloo views it as a natural progression in human evolution.
“I see it as the dynamism of our perception of life and which has evolved to create what may seem as an amorphous trait in Kenyans,” he adds. “But this should not be mistaken for confusion.”
He sees this trait as advantageous, arguing that it promotes cultural tolerance that continues to serve the country by containing social tensions.
“That principle is the source of peace that has sustained us in the worst of political times,” says the don.
This ability by Kenyans to blend has been noted by an African diplomat in Nairobi, who says that, unlike most people elsewhere on the continent, Kenyans seem broad-minded and accommodating of other cultures.
Barbra Walters, the immediate former director of Goethe Institute, agrees.
“I think people here are used to living in environments where people speak in different languages,” she says, explaining the success of language training in the country.
“Certainly, yes,” says Paul Mbatia, the head of the University of Nairobi’s sociology department.
Dr Mbatia says that although most people may not realise it, the harambee concept of pooling together is unique to Kenya, embraced at a national and level and exported to Kenyan communities abroad.
“It’s something people may take for granted, but it something that fascinates non-Kenyans,” he adds. “The harambee spirit is unique to us.”
He says that, unlike other cultures, Kenyans anywhere in the world expect to chip in to help out in times of grief and does not matter if the person is financially able to undertake the task alone.
“It is considered unsociable to deny fellow Kenyans the opportunity to contribute to weddings or funerals,” he says.
Dr Clementine Deliss, a British psychologist who witnessed the ban of the multi-colour matatu on our roads, says the vehicles revealed a unique Kenyan characteristic.
“I thought they gave great character to the Kenyan transport system and embraced the universality of global urban cultures,” she says.
Culturally, the past five years have witnessed a resurgence in the efforts to express Kenyans’ collective identity, and theme night concepts that have become a major selling point on the entertainment scene.
“I think the popularity of mugithi and ohangla nights have been particularly crucial in our quest for national identity as it has served as a new window for younger people with strong Western influence and needed something of their own roots to fall back onto,” says Oloo.
Mbatia agrees, but notes that the themes may have also promoted interest among youths to learn their mother tongues, which they use in turn to flavour Sheng — the urban slang that fuses Kiswahili with other local dialects.
But even as Kenyan identity gains more roots and colour, politics tends to rudely get in the way because ethnicity is the biggest consideration in the voting patterns.
“It is ironic that this has persisted and, unlike other countries where politics is viewed in terms of economic and ideological divides, Kenyans have stuck to tribal loyalties,” says Oloo.
The big question then is whether Kenya’s cultural melting pot will continue to define who Kenyans are, yet the politicians dictate the future of politics from communal cultural cocoons.
But this is not to say the arts are redeemed from Western influences to evolve a truly Kenyan identity.
The recent Tusker Project Fame competition dealt Kenyan culture a major blow as Western culture was the dominant characteristic — in a fete meant to celebrate Kenyan creativity.
“It is there in our music and other preferences because we believe in the oneness of world culture,” says 21-year-old Josephine Nduta.
She has no problem declaring her preference for America music and lifestyle and considers herself as a youth living in a “one-culture” world.
“We are the dotcom (computer savvy) generation and are one all over the world,” she says.
But Oloo is not sure if this perception will hold, saying that exposure to travel has brought an awareness to the youth’s global identity, which undermines the national concept among the older urban folk rooted in distinctly Kenyan cultural identity.
Maybe this is all the more reason why we should continue enjoying nyama choma and dancing to mugithi and ohangla tunes.
