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Buganda’s celebrated dining

December 13, 2010 By
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My first encounter with this celebrated dish (luwombo = steamed or casserole, in banana leaves) happened about 24yrs ago. What I actually mean by this, is that it was the very first time an opportunity presented to me to actually participate in preparing such a revered dish within the tribe I hail from in Uganda.If I may say, the end product is one whereby the banana leaves intensely flavour everything, no other seasoning is necessary. The beef is soft and pliable, but still chewy, not a stew, but a steamed meat with peanut sauce dish.

I had flown to Uganda to mark the wedding of my then to be sister-in-law.  I have to say I didn’t take in much of the preparation tutorial – simply because I was more excited by all other traditional ceremonies taking place and ended up leaving it to my elderly tutor to finish off my task.    This dish I recall in vague recollection of my early childhood at the two big gathering I attended  was mostly served to elders and mostly men, the females tended to have the vegetarian version of it if served.  My mum (adoptive) did away with tradition on most things as it were and on occasion had this dish prepared for her in all dietary takes whilst we still resided in Uganda.  I only learnt later on in my teens whilst here in London that it was initially a dish for men mainly.

It wasn’t until I returned to Uganda much later on in 2006 that I actually was put through the ropes of preparing this dish by my brother’s wife at our ancestral home. My brother’s wife is simply amazing and hopefully I will share more stories of what I have learnt from her.  First of all she took me through to the banana plantation to obtain the banana leaf I would need.  Then showed me how to prepare this leaf (usually a smaller of the larger leaves) ahead of placing the mixture inside it.  As with most things, practice makes perfect and preparation of most traditional dishes I found took more than just throwing stuff in a pan, tossing it around whilst adding various ingredients before adding stock and letting it simmer… Did I mention, we prepared all this on an open fire which had to be lit from scratch?

To simplify this is what luwombo is about.

Oluwombo or Luwombo is a traditional dish from Uganda. It is both a classic dish of royal dinners and a dish popular throughout Uganda, especially at holiday time.

It is often said that oluwombo dates to 1887 when, during the reign of Kabaka Mwanga, the dish was introduced by his chief cook, Kawunta.   The basic banana-leaf cooking method has been common across tropical Africa for centuries and is also much used wherever bananas or plantains are grown.

It can be made with beef, chicken, goat, pork, or mushrooms.

What you need

  • cooking oil
  • beef, chicken, goat, or pork (any one or two or more in combination), cut into serving-sized pieces
  • peanuts/groundnut paste (roasted, shells and skins removed) or peanut butter (natural, unsweetened), about a half-cup per serving (optional)
  • onion, chopped (half an onion per serving)
  • tomatoes, peeled if desired, chopped (one tomato per serving)
  • tomato paste (one tablespoon per serving)
  • one chicken or beef bouillon cube (optional)
  • salt (to taste)
  • black pepper (to taste)
  • banana leaves (one per serving)
  • mushrooms, cleaned (optional)
  • smoked fish or meat (optional)
  • plantains (one per serving)

What you do

  • In a hot, lightly-oiled skillet or on a hot outdoor grill, briefly cook meat until it is browned but not done. Remove from heat and set aside.
  • If you are using peanuts:
    Crush or grind the peanuts with a potato-masher, rolling pin or with a mortar and pestle.
  • Heat a spoonful of oil in a saucepan. Add the onion and cook for a minute. Then add the tomatoes, tomato paste, bouillon cube, salt, pepper (or other spices) and crushed peanuts or peanut butter. If necessary, add water to make a smooth sauce. Cook briefly until it is heated completely.
  • Briefly heat the banana leaves over the grill or in a hot oven. (Heating the banana leaves makes them more flexible.) Remove some of the fibers from the central rib of the each leaf — these will be used to tie the leaf-packets closed (or use kitchen string).
  • Place a portion of meat and some of the tomato-onion sauce (and mushrooms and smoked meat or fish, if desired) in the center of a leaf. Fold the leaf in from the sides, drawing all the sides together, being careful not to break the leaf. Tie tightly closed at the top. Cut off any extra leaf above the tie. Repeat until all the leaves have been filled. Use any extra leaf to double wrap the packets.
  • Place a wire rack (or similar) in the bottom of a large Dutch oven or similar cooking pot. Add water to fill the pot up to the bottom of the rack. Place the banana-leaf packets on the rack. Cover and bring to a boil on the stove (or better yet) over the grill or an open fire. Steam the packets for an hour or longer. Add water to the cooking pot as necessary to prevent it from becoming dry.
  • To serve: Remove the plantains from their packets and lightly mash with a fork. Top with the meat and sauce. This can be done before serving, at the table, or each diner can be provided with a both a plantain packet and a meat packet.

Plantains cooked unpeeled are a popular staple dish in Uganda.

Mushrooms and peanuts (without meat) can be cooked together luwombo style. Unfortunately the full flavour is lost when conventional cooking is used over the electric hob or gas cooker – firewood would appear to encompass the whole process of building the overall character of the dish as well as flavour.

Oluwombo can also be made without pre-cooking the meat and sauce before they are wrapped. The steaming time should increased to well over two hours.

Filed Under: African Food, Grace Nakate, Latest, Out of Africa, Popular posts Tagged With: , , , ,

The Peacock Effect

September 13, 2010 By
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As a child, I recall the peacock bird as one that got all the attention due to its beautiful display of its feathers and elegant stance.  Male peacocks display their iridescent feathers for prospective female mates. Females may check out the feathers of a number of different males before deciding on a suitor. The length and quality of a male peacock’s feathers can indicate his age, vigor, and status.

As human beings we appear to imitate or display similar actions to animals or birds – yet most often than not when such comparisons are made, it is akeen to being insulted.  Having outgrown the zoo-trips to watch the carry-ons of animals or birds, I progressed on to the human theatre of observation.  Most of you that have watched cabaret shows or attended carnival displays would probably see the influence the peacock has had on the design for costumes worn. However these were and remain artists and this is their job to keep the audience captivated by both their beauty and the beautiful display on show.

I admire the beauty of the peacock bird in itself, for the reasons it goes about displaying its feathers is primarily for self preservation – to attract a mate.  This said, I also enjoy the carnival costumes and cabaret performances in their respective format.  It is when human individuals take to a kind of addiction to what I’ve come to see as a peacock effect that I start to ponder if their actions are based on inner insecurity or something else altogether.

The BBC went on a documentary trip to Nigeria a couple of months back and returned with a fascinating if not poignant and quite enlightening programme on life as seen through the eyes of ordinary Nigerians living in various sections of Nigeria.  I saw a different kind of Nigeria which made me fall in love with the people and the country as I’d never could have imagined. Many times in the past, all I’d come to know about Nigerians was from the many movies that come out of Nollywood depicting mostly very wealthy Nigerians in huge mansions that you never quite get to learn how they made their millions, versus those who are obsessed with witchcraft in all shapes and forms.  Very little wonder therefore for those who take what they see in the movies to try to imitate. It was very refreshing to see the human spirit hard at work in places I would have passed by or even written off as just derelict and worthless.  It was a moving documentary because it did not show these persons as looking to just put out begging bowls, but proud persons, contented persons; in the life they’d been dealt to live and hassling to realise their dreams.

Esther's residence

Still Home

One thing in common did keep coming out though – the need to look good and show off.  I observe that the need to show off or impress, akeen to what a peacock does, was not limited to just those who were wealthy or residing abroad in developed countries.  The kind one cannot help but notice at social gatherings or functions trying to out-do each other on who drives the best or latest model of car, who owns the flashiest jewellery, home interiors, clothes , the list is endless. It appears to be a form of identity that I am yet to fully grasp the meaning.  It was somewhat in contrast to the exposure I’d had from the culture I had grown up in where wealthy persons are discreet about their incomes or wealth; the exception being of course in regards to pop or music icons/celebrities in the entertainment business.  It was normal for instance for people considered within the brackets of wealthy means or rich,  to use public transport; or even see them riding bicycles or walking.  If anything, being wealthy in some parts of the developed nations makes a person more determined to  minimise attention to themselves from the public.
Mike EzraIn Africa, to be wealthy it would appear that you have to show and constantly put it on display, kind like a peacock.  This came to light with a citizien in Uganda who felt the need to display $3million to a media audience in the hope perhaps of alleviating those who were concerned his wealthy status was becoming a contentious issue.

Yet I find myself asking this: In the midst of such abject poverty in our continent where the gap between poor and rich becoming so wide, is it in good taste to carry on with this peacock attitude?

Filed Under: Africa Matters, African Culture, African People, Grace Nakate, Latest, Out of Africa Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,

Nursing – saving Grace

July 29, 2010 By
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Returning back from the warm embrace of Uganda to the cold grey reception of Gatwick airport in March ’86, found me a very irritable 17yr old lady – as most people, I’m not at my best when deprived of sleep.  My ticket back to the UK had been an award from a family member who worked as a minister in Education after checking to ensure I was truly a student and resident in the UK. Other than getting my travel itinerary sorted out, I had not looked much further than this although given the state of our relationship with my mum who had now opted to officially state that she was my paternal aunt.  It made a pig’s ear of the whole situation and according to rumours that went rife amongst the family members; it almost cost her residence here!  As usual, the blame was placed squarely at my feet.

I recall the immigration officials asking me who was meeting me and where I was going to stay. My response that I was going to strike out on my own and rent my own place whilst I finish my A-levels didn’t somehow wash – so I was placed in detention. You see I’d been working Saturdays at Littlewoods since getting my NI card and managed to save up quite a fair sum alongside my baby-sitting jobs. Relations between myself and mom had hit a low so I’d figured, once I had enough for a deposit on a bedsit, I’d move out and finish my studies before applying for a place a university.  Contrary to what mom had thought of my teenage rebellion, I really hadn’t gone off the rails; I simply didn’t agree with her perspectives on how I should pursue my life along the culture lines here in London.  She had opted to believe my rebellion was a preliquiste for getting myself a boyfriend and basically not respecting her wishes. There had been a lot of external influences from the extended paternal family members on who had long-term issues with my place in mum’s life – namely my paternal grandmother. Over the years, I’d witnessed a fair number of unfair acts that in the end, I’d given up trying to point them out and opted to bite my lip and bid my time instead.  As it were, my mum had given in to possible pressure and had opted to follow through advice given her and send me back to Uganda – perhaps to teach me a lesson in humility or reminder of my position in the family hierarchy. Whichever it were, the gods were on my side and truth always triumphs no matter how much one tries to hide it.

So there I was the youngest detainee in a detention place some place in Gatwick or thereabouts.  After repeated conversations with various immigration officers, one of them asked me if there was anybody here in the UK who could come and lay claim as my guardian. Going through my little tatty address book making calls to various family friends, relatives – all refusing to come to my rescue, I resigned myself to being returned on the next flight back to Uganda.  At least it was warm there and my biological mum had appeared to be so welcoming and loving in addition to my biological siblings.  I was missing them already.  The poverty and hardships I’d witnessed in my three months stay didn’t sway my love for the country. I’d seen persons who even in the very little they had, being willing and generous in all they shared. But as I was about to hang up, I remembered I’d not called my school friend who’d been in touch with me throughout my short stay in Uganda. I’d not even called her to tell her I’d arrived!  So I asked the immigration officer if I could just make one final call just to let her know I’d arrived but would have to return back. This was the turning point. When I called her, she was so overjoyed to hear my voice that we chatted about everything silly that I almost forgot to tell her I’d be returning back! It was the immigration officer who tapped me on the back and reminded me to bid her goodbye that when I did and she asked why that saw my whole situation change. Claudia, my friend, alerted our headmistress, Mrs Martin, who by the crack of dawn was in the detention office like a lieutenant demanding to know why they had kept a minor in an adult detention centre – it was somewhat comical to see were it not serious.  What transpired between her and the immigration officers after her arrival I was not privy to, but all I remember was being escorted out and being driven to my friend’s house whilst a permanent solution was reached.

In the three months that followed, I attended school from Claudia’s house to finish my A-levels. Unfortunately, I’d missed some of the critical exams and this meant University entrance was to be postponed.  Instead, I opted to attend Croydon College to at least get the grades I needed as advised by my headmistress in order to try and gain entrance to nursing school.  I couldn’t stay with Claudia’s family for long, she had decided to elope to marry her school sweetheart and relocate to Hong-Kong. Besides, her family aside from her mother, all spoke Spanish – having been posted here on diplomatic duties from Chile. Whilst I made good use of free Spanish lessons from Claudia’s grandmother, long-term stay was out of the question.  I initially stayed at a refuge hostel before acquiring my own bedsit.  Throughout this time, I’d attend courses in-between jobs in order to raise the capital I needed to send to back to my biological mother for a proper building to call home.  With the help and advice of Mrs Martin again, I attended my first interview at Ealing School of Nursing after finishing a volunteer’s nursing assistant course at Mayday Hospital in December ‘86 and commenced my student general nursing course in March of ‘87.  Nursing as Mrs Martin had advised me would provide me with a residential in addition to an earning whilst gaining the training that could help me towards any course later on in life should I opt to not to stay within its’ discipline.  She was so right, nursing was my saving grace and an eye opener to a childhood echo of mine when I recall way back at primary answering saying I wanted to work for the Red Cross.  Well I’ve not exactly worked for the Red Cross, but I’ve ended up working within the medical profession and learning all there is about the health of the human body.

Filed Under: AFRICAN DIASPORA, Grace Nakate, Health, Latest, Out of Africa, Popular posts Tagged With: , , , , ,

Education in Uganda- Educating us out of our culture

July 20, 2010 By
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A few days back I was sent a video clip of Sir Ken Robinson talking to TED whereupon he makes an entertaining and profoundly moving case for creating an education system that nurtures (rather than undermines) creativity.  The video clip run for about 24mins and my initial thought when I got this clip was to ignore it – purely because I felt frugal of my time committments at the time it was sent.  However the person that had sent to me, had requested me to give him feedback and ignoring such a request was not something that comes easy to me. I always think that if someone takes the time to pass something across adding a request that you let them know your take, it is somewhat rude for me to ignore.  Also if I say I will get back to them, I know myself enough now to view this as a binning excuse on my part.  Simply because even with the intention being that I will get back, I never do – something else crops up, something more demanding and requiring just as more time consumption, that in the end the prior requests get forgotten and end up in my mental bin.

Returning to the subject of Sir Ken Robinson’s talk whereby he challenges the way our children here in the UK are educated.  He champions a radical rethink of the school systems, to cultivate creativity and acknowledge multiple types of intelligence. He argues that “it’s because we’ve been educated to become good workers, rather than creative thinkers.” Students with restless minds and bodies — far from being cultivated for their energy and curiosity — are ignored or even stigmatized, with terrible consequences.

Well his words struck a chord. They took me back to the time of my primary education in Uganda which still operates along the lines of streaming pupils in to classes dependent on academic ability of conforming to the written and stipulated curriculum.  The system in operation was and still is – you were tested every final term and moved up a class depending on whether you attained the required pass rate.  Whether or not you fully understood what you gave in the answers to the questions was incosquential — for all that mattered you could’ve crammed robotically the answers as long as they tallied and you got the required pass rate.  As a result of academic streaming, it was not surprising therefore to find younger aged pupils in a class or form that housed older aged pupils.

Now one thing that puzzled me and still does in fact is what appears to be an inherited form of formal education in all the academic institutions back in Uganda.  Just like Sir Robinson states about “educating people out of their creativity” – I find a comparison of teaching in Uganda in the sense of that we were educated out of our culture. The situation remains because of inherited teaching methods and curriculum vitae.

Namunyumya girls school-Uganda

An example which up to this day that I can cite is that of a rural farmer who scrapes and saves to put his child through the formal education system.  After excelling in his/her studies at a secondary level, the youngster soon enters university.  In Africa, one is not considered to have made it academically if he or she has not passed through University or have letters after his/her name.  In fact most jobs in Africa are geared towards the service delivery industry favouring graduates.  Problem is, mass unemployment is like a cancer that is spreading and not all graduants will  be able to be placed with an office job.  Herein lies my puzzle.

This the photo my old primary school. It has since been taken on the English name,  St. Michaels’ girls primary school – but I still prefer the Pre-colonial name Namunyumya girls School

Returning to the farmer’s dilema, after years of saving and scraping to put a child through the formal education system, the farmer (parent) is puzzled why it is that his child is not willing to return and work or help him out on the farm but would instead prefer to roam the city roads touting for business.  In extreme cases, the young person soon resorts to short-cuts which sadly may cost him/her their life or assets.    Well I guess, the fact that farming – be it animal husbandry or agricultural farming was not so readily availed to this young person to tie into his founding roots in the formative years of his formal education might shed some light to the youngster’s predicament.

For the young person, taking up farming is a last resort considered to be for losers or failures, since he/she most likely grew up being told that if he/she wasted the fees on returning poor grades, his/her education would be cut short and he/she would return to the farm to till the land instead.  So farming in this young person’s eyes was ingrained to equate failure.   Besides, the youngster might have studied law – and in a rural village setting, such skills might not be economically viable…

I look at the education system and think along the lines of what Sir Ken Robinson raises.  Are we pushing our children to attain academics simply because they will look good to show off on paper or should we nurture our children’s educational developments along the lines of complimenting the abilities or skills that can give them a balance in the society around them?  Should the model of education be along a set curriculum globally and if so who is to determine what is viable to teach?

Filed Under: African Culture, African Tradition, Grace Nakate Tagged With: , , , , , , ,