From time to time in this column, I have had occasion to write about differing attitudes towards chicken: the expatriate’s and the Kenyan’s. I have mentioned how it’s eaten: pointless cutlery versus sensible Kenyan hands; massive leftovers versus the sensible Kenya habit of chewing to the very bone and beyond. I have mentioned the joys of stringy kienyeji chicken versus plump ‘posh’ chicken. I might even have mentioned how the Kenyan rooster crows five million decibels louder than a EuroAmerican cock.
Chicken always deserves newspaper column inches.
Also, chicken elicits huge responses. Although in the past I’ve received kind weekly emails from numerous readers, either thanking me for the last article or telling me to simply ‘sod off back to America’ (I’m originally English, by the way), the heaviest mailbag (there, I’ve used an American word, to make you happy) has always come following a chicken article.
This week, the EuroAmerican/Kenyan chicken wars reached monumental proportions. It would seem that, since the entry onto the scene of American giants such as KFC (Kenya’s Fat Children) and other fast food companies from abroad, our good old Kenchic outlets have suffered to the point where they’ll be closed, if I’ve understood the newspapers correctly (understanding the Kenyan news can sometimes be tricky for the expatriate.) Luckily, Kenchic will continue to pack and sell their excellent frozen chicken; without this, I’d personally starve to death. But the eateries, well, they seem doomed to closure.
The expatriate needs to understand that many a romance once blossomed over the slippery-fingered delights of a Kenchic quarter chicken and chips. Also, that important, small-to-medium business deals were concluded over a piece of crispy Kenchic skin. That Kenya would have ground to a halt without the activities that went on inside Kenchic joints. Huduma Centres!? Nonsense. It was Kenchic that kept Kenya running smoothly.
The problem seems to be, I read, that the company couldn’t police its franchisees. I don’t blame Kenchic for this. Apparently, certain franchisees were not keeping premises within the expected levels of cleanliness, and were even sourcing crappy chicken from elsewhere – weedy little anorexic chickens from the farmer around the corner. This is a tragedy of mammoth proportions, and one that is seeing the demise of an iconic eatery.
The state of the economy makes a franchisee greedy, I suppose; more greedy, metaphorically, than the customers are literally greedy. So, now what are we left with?: a comparatively expensive set of KFC outlets in malls that no-one but the expatriate frequents. The expatriate therefore doesn’t really suffer from the closure of Kenchic joints. He can go elsewhere, and he can still afford the Kenchic ‘Boneless Breasts’ in Nakumatt.
But what now for the former Kenchic customer? Will we now see relationships breaking up and business partnerships suffering? Will all the fabric of the country unravel and the very country collapse? You see, in Kenya it’s not family or patriotic ties that bind. Rather, what binds us all together is the sinewy meat of chickens.
spartington@yahoo.co.uk
