MAN IN THE HOOD: Dear butchers, please see the light

Being a meat lover, I like it when my meat doesn’t come with any flaws. Sadly, flaws always seem to pop up. PHOTO | FILE

What you need to know:

  • The number of bones that get included in your meat usually depends on how close you are with the butchery guy or how good you are at negotiating.
  • Njoro is one of my go-to guys for meat nowadays. It was with him that I first noticed the correlation between chit-chat and the quantity of bones.
  • Then there’s the issue of fat. You definitely know the unimaginable pain of reaching home only to discover that half the meat you have bought is fat.

I love meat with every fibre of my being. If I was to choose between meat and a holiday with Rihanna at the French Riviera, I would choose meat. I mean, Rihanna is cool and all, but meat is better. The French Riviera is wondrous too but hey, meat is something else.

My mother told me that when I was a child, my nose would conduct a litmus test on the aroma coming from the kitchen. If I realised it was all mboga and no nyama, I would go on a hunger strike before food was served.

Someone was such a spoiled kid.

Despite my inimitable passion for meat, I have beef with butchery guys. See what I did there? You didn’t? No? Don’t worry; you’ll see it when I do it next time. Let’s keep it moving.

I actually do have a very big problem with meat sellers, but first things first. I have a confession to make. Inasmuch as I like to pretend I know English, for a long time, I didn’t know that butchery guys are actually called butchers. I need a refund from my former school. And the way the principal had a penchant for sending students to collect remaining fees. I feel short-changed.

But, doesn’t the word ‘butcher’ sound a little cruel or horrific? Or it’s just me. The word sounds more fitting for a serial killer like Jason of the famous Friday The 13th movies. It even sounds better for bloody dictators like Charles Taylor or Idi Amin who literally butchered thousands of people. For meat sellers, the word butcher just doesn’t sound congruous.

I’ll stick to calling them butchery guys. If the British queen has a problem with that, she can come and take it up with me.

The point is, I have beef with butchery guys. I even feel like releasing a diss track. Does anyone have Khaligraph’s number? I need him to help me out with lyrics.

MY BEEF

Being a meat lover, I like it when my meat doesn’t come with any flaws. Sadly, flaws always seem to pop up. There are three main concerns I have with butchery guys – bones, fat, and hygiene. Let me address these issues in that order.

Butcheries nowadays rarely give someone value for their money. Even when you issue the “usiweke mifupa (don’t give me bones)” directive, the butchery guys find a way of sneaking on at least one bone inside. What for? What if I don’t have a dog? What am I supposed to do with the bone? Create jewellery with it?

Actually, the number of bones that get included in your meat usually depends on how close you are with the butchery guy or how good you are at negotiating. If you are one of the people who never converse with the butchery guys, bones will be dumped on you constantly.

Njoro is one of my go-to guys for meat nowadays. It was with him that I first noticed the correlation between chit-chat and the quantity of bones. Initially, I simply used to enter the butchery and shout “Nusu! (Half!)”  Those were the days when I would be served bones like a bulldog. But when I started asking him how his family was and what his views on corruption were, the number of bones reduced significantly.

Then there’s the issue of fat. You definitely know the unimaginable pain of reaching home only to discover that half of your half kilogramme of meat is fat. I have had to shift butcheries several times just because the fella wouldn’t listen when I told him not to include fat. At least Njoro is trying. He tries to minimise the fat as much as possible.

Finally, there are those moments when the butchery guy touches notes or coins then he resumes cutting your meat without washing his hands. Maybe he was giving someone his balance or he was helping the shopkeeper next to the butchery who came seeking for “change ya thao” (change for Sh1,000).

Health experts have proven time and time again that money is a reservoir of germs – it is one of the dirtiest things in the world. Money is even dirtier than a toilet seat. Imagine those germs migrating to your meat.

You might pointedly stress that butchers have been behaving this way for decades so why the sudden brouhaha right now? Well, change has to start from somewhere and I am feeling a little Martin Luther-ish. It’s said that the fact that something has been happening for a long time doesn’t mean it’s okay, right?

So, hold the hand of the person next to you and say this with me.

‘I have a dream that one day we will stride out of butcheries with meat that is devoid of bones. I have a dream that all the fat shall be discarded when the meat is being sliced. I have a dream that hands shall be washed after handling money.’

And when all this happens, we shall sing together, “Good meat at last, Good meat at last, thank heavens we have good meat at last!”