KFC & The Devil
I was enjoying a guided tour by two phenomenal local ladies named professor Nyambura and Wanjiku of the food scene in Nanyuki.. We visited Nanyuki Permaculture Institute first before heading into town. Once in town, we went straight to the only mall in town. Not knowing what to expect, I thought I was ready for anything. But once we drove inside the mall, I was shocked by the first visible sign I saw. We had parked our vehicle right in front of KFC. I literally froze. All kinds of thoughts, none of it positive, flooded my mind. In a mix of awe, disappointment and curiosity, I walked inside. I did not smell the ubiquitous smell of the chicken being fried in the back but felt sad as I stared at the ugliness of the corruption and colonization of our food.
I was dismayed to see Kenyans lined up with their children in tow anxiously waiting their turn to poison themselves for a fee and a flirting moment of ephemeral high from fake flavors and hidden costs. I lined along for a while and pretended to be equally naive and ignorant of the business at hand. But even pretending has its limits. It was too much for me to handle. I was especially taken aback by the number of people behind me, especially when I considered the size of town I was in. It was not a major town and yet the numbers were high. Once inside, one of the attendants asked me if she could help me. I replied "where is the bathroom? She politely pointed in the direction of the bathroom. I headed in that direction.
I wondered if there could An be such a thing as a holy toilet and sinful toilet. All over a sudden, my urge to use the bathroom disappeared. I am now convinced that even if I died inside a KFC or any of it's partners in food crime, my body will probably not rot. My mind is so immune to these demons that my armor can not be penetrated. My greatest joy is to spread the that amor. I conjured an image of just food on the cross with McDonalds and KFC on each side to represent the two thieves.
As though to get an antidote for the poisoned environment, I walked into a healthy joint known as HealthyU. As I was looking around and enjoying the breath of fresh air, I saw a small bottle of Manukau Honey. I was amazed. I picked it quickly, just to touch it. I looked at the price. The bottle of 250 grams costed $40. That is probably half the monthly wage of a typical wage earner.
There you have it. These are the best of times and the worst of times, or at least some may think. The reality of the matter is food injustice makes all of us unjust in the end. We cannot grow KFCs in the world and expand organic Manuka honey indefinitely. One will have to give. If KFC gains momentum then we will have to contend with a small devil which we may call kfc or Killing Families Consciously. Fed long enough, the small devil will grow into a father devil that will become KFC. That is not something I am at all comfortable with. In the meantime, not all are worried about the food devils, big or little, as we already have a solution for it. Food literacy smokes all those devils regardless of size or color. In my small way, I have formed a regiment under the same title of Kabui Food Class(KFC), or if you like the real KFC.
That would be the easiest way to tell the story of my life: struggle for Food Justice. Afood, Amen and Thayù