If growing up, you remember that during the Easter weekend we used to have the Safari Rally, then I can safely say you and I can be friends. You see, that would probably mean that we are also age-mates or something! I still fondly recall those days when Easter would be looming and there would be a lot of excitement because of the Safari Rally.
No, not because the family would be participating but because we would all be geared up to go and spectate the event at various stages. It was our way of planning a mini-recreational holiday over the long weekend. I remember I used to turn to the sports pages of the newspapers and meticulously cut out route maps, lists of drivers in various categories, photographs of drivers and crew and stick them in my scrapbook.
Rallying has always been an integral part of my life simply because the whole family has always been into it. I have uncles who have rallied, brothers who are currently rallying and the next generation, our kids, all set to rally as well as soon as they get legal permission. To hear the roar of a rally car being serviced at home, orders being shouted above the revving, tools of the trade lying all over the place and greasy hands and clothes have never been a big deal for anyone in my family. We often joke we have engine oil instead of blood running through our veins.
Packing picnics to enjoy while watching the rally were lots of fun. I remember once we packed a jiko, masalas, big sufuria, coal, mwiko and everything else you’d need to make a decent koroga chicken. We got to our designated spot, parked up and started unpacking everything; the portable deck chairs and picnic blankets, the jiko and everything else.
Usually the men folk were designated to do the cooking as they enjoyed chilled beers awaiting the cars to zoom past and there would be a good laugh as each one gave his two bits worth on what ingredient to throw in next. Once the basic masala was done, it was time to throw in the chicken and that’s when everyone realized that the chicken had been left in the fridge.
Ill concealed anger flared up and while a few tried to laugh it off and diffuse the situation, the men folk were pretty annoyed at this outcome. Luckily, and I mean VERY luckily, someone had decided to put in the catering packs of sausages just in case the kids decided they wanted that instead of the koroga chicken and the day was saved. Now when we sit and reminisce about it, we laugh real hard but to date we still don’t know who was designated to take the chicken out of the fridge and put it in the portable cooler box.
Good old days! Sigh... Have a brilliant Easter weekend and please do not drink and drive. It’s really not worth it. Be safe, be courteous and in case you’re going for a picnic, make sure there are at least four people designated to pack the chicken!