Mulolongo is not just a place. It's a whole syllabus. And deep within its curriculum is a tiny street called Zambarau where meat is sold both day and night.
By day, Zambarau is a heaven of nyama. Smoke rises like prayers as meat sizzles on grills. You can find it in stew, dry fry, grilled or even boiled for the toothless. But when darkness announces its arrival, the meat form changes. It’s still meat, yes, but this one is served somewhat raw. Colourful, tender and priced depending on texture, origin, and freshness.
The most popular evening meat here is called pig Porko. Everyone in Zambarau street and its tributaries knows pig meat, Porko. It is well supplied, comes in different packages and is available all night till morning.
On a certain Friday evening, Katomo walked into Mulolongo feeling like a tycoon. After working for three solid weeks smoothing walls in Kalangaita, the foreman finally remembered him. He was paid a full Ksh 790. Not a coin less.
That evening, Katomo felt rich. With money like Cashier or Kasia as hebrews would put it.
Off to his one roomed room not far from MADHAambaRAU street,he changed clothes. Cleaned his rubber shoes with water, using an overused gunia scrubber. Put on his shirt with three different collar colours. He looked like a man ready to invest heavily in a Ponzi scheme or buying a stock of illegal goods.
“Ndikoma nzaa keli (I can't sleep in two hungers)” he told himself.
He headed straight to Zambarau, walking with confidence and Ksh 790 dancing in his pocket like the AIC Kasina Kiswahili choir.
Out there, the meat was everywhere. Well-arranged, blurred displayed in some dark corners. Some sizzling with fire. Others just sit, waiting for buyers. This is an open market that buy-one-get-one-free never applies. One caught his eye. A juicy, tender-looking Porko meat called Ngwata from Ngokomi in Makuni, the home of pixies, milk and honey.
The layers were well lined. The meat was fresh in looks. Not too soft, not too stiff. Balanced like a three-legged stool.
Katomo moved closer, coughed lightly, and greeted the seller.
“Woozah! Nyama tunayo hatuna?”
The seller smiled and pulled the wrapper slightly back. Katomo's eyes blinked twice as he nodded in approval.
He touched. He sniffed and asked one or two questions just for formality. Then with the boldness of Gen-Zs, he said, “Nimechagua hii basi.”
He wrapped the big Porko meat like treasure and walked home, focused and with speed.
Once inside, he cleaned his space. Set his light well. Laid the meat gently. Unwrapped it slowly like a letter from a lover.
He started the marination.
Gently.
With purpose.
He applied pressure evenly.
Turned the meat.
Pressed it again.
Checked for tenderness.
Then began grilling.
Grill one side.
Wait.
Grill the other side.
Wait.
Repeat.
The fire was controlled. Not too high. He was patient. Letting the heat enter deep inside the meat. Sometimes he paused just to admire and take a breather.
After several minutes of grilling, flipping, tapping, and seasoning, Katomo was done. He sat like a satisfied lion. He must have enjoyed it. He chewed slowly. He licked his fingers.
Then he remembered he had not paid for the meat. But he still was stinking rich with an unshaken ksh.790.
Katomo walked back to the seller. Pulled out Ksh 500 with confidence. He even smiled.
“Chukua hii mama,” he said generously.
But the seller did not smile back. She looked at the note, and looked at Katomo. Then shouted at the top of her limitless voice,
“Kiyumaa ou! Eka mwa Kiyumaa ou!”
People turned in response to the undying commotion. Heads popped out of balconies to pwitness the unfolding drama.
“Meweta kyau kitaumaa ou?” someone asked.
But all Katomo could say, calmly, was:
“Kii ni kinene, kiyuma undungi".
The crowd was confused. The seller kept on shouting Kiyumaa ou. Katomo answering Kii ni kinene.
No one knew what was going on. Some thought it was about Kiatu (shoes). Others suspected missing change. But deep in Zambarau street, everyone understood,this was not the first of this nature around that street.
Up to today, the case remains pending. Porko seller unsatisfied. Katomo defending himself with confidence.
Mulolongo knows its things. In this life, it is not enough to choose well, grill well and eat to satisfaction. What matters more is how you walk away after. Many enjoy the meal but forget the price. And in the end, it is not the hunger that embarrasses a man, it is the debt he pretends not to owe.
In the end, they pay the cost and bills using their own health and life.
Avoid public meat you don't own, it's likely poisoned and kills.
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