Kamala is my favorite driver and a very good friend.
One night in Iringa we were in meetings until late. Then Kamala and I went to dinner. Since it was late, none of the regular restaurants were open so we walked from the hostel to the Miami Bar. Spoken in Kiswahili you wouldn’t recognize it as named for the glamorous city of Miami Vice. Sorry that I don’t have any pictures of the place, I didn’t think to bring my camera.
Although Miami Bar is the hopping place in Iringa you won’t find any South Florida art deco or shiny chrome here. There were four rooms and the center one was a kitchen with billowing smoke filling the room from a charcoal fire. Typically, you manage the food and the drinks separately in local restaurants so you need to meet with the cooks. The food gets much discussion. I understood only a little of Kamala’s negotiation with the chefs. We ordered the house specialty – a pile of goat meat char broiled.
He showed us a partially cooked leg and we chose how much to cut off and finish cooking. We watched the bone be hacked apart, the meat get carved, treated with lemon juice and salt and tossed back over the fire. Satisfied, we went to find a seat.
The place was pretty full so the waitress woke a sleeping patron to throw him out and make space for us. He resisted. A second waitress joined the battle and both voiced loudly their displeasure with much shouting. With the commotion a small man appeared, presumably security, and the sleeper suddenly became more alert and found the door without a word. Kamala, my driver explained that in bars it is fully acceptable to go to sleep and leave in the morning as long as there is room. Triumphant, I was given the pleasure of the once restful, now warmed chair cushions. I didn’t want even want to lean back.
The place was about 95% men; a lot of them were wearing business suits. The room we were in was arranged with cushioned chairs around low tables. There were a couple of TVs showing sporting events, and some music in the background. I noticed as the meal progressed that a couple of the women who were sitting with men would get up and leave with one. And then come back and give the index finger “come hither” and another man would get up and go to her and they would leave for a while. You draw your own conclusion. I drank my ‘Ndovu moto’ (warm Elephant Bull brand beer).
After the first beer was finished, the meat arrived by chef special delivery. Another man came with the requisite pot of water to wash our hands. Then we ate the goat meat with a second beer. Goat meat is actually really good. I’d recommend it to anyone. We had a sauce of pili pili (hot peppers) on the side prepared by the chefs with lemon juice, salt and finely sliced peppers. It is a fire hot, burn your lips, tongue, throat and sinuses sauce. Don’t touch your face – especially anywhere near your eyes – after you’ve dipped your meat in this sauce. Actually, this is true until about the third or fourth washing of your hands with soap. I know from experience.
Kamala said that it was a nice place. I like Kamala a lot.
Here's a picture of Kamala (the mechanic) trying to help a boy fix his bicycle. Unfortunately the only tool we could find was a rock:
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