Oh Kenchic, Where at Thou?

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One day our kids will be teenagers and they will live in a world without lions. Because there will only be about five left. Five lions, two black rhinos and about 30 million baboons. You want baboons to get shot, but where is the fun in that? Apparently nobody wants to shoot baboons because they look like us. But lions? Oh, they’re fair game. You can shoot a lion twice, and as it staggers you can stalk it and shoot it again. Then when it’s felled and is breathing its last, you can put one more piece of lead into its skull just to be sure. Then you go out to lunch.

So yes, because it’s such fun to shoot and kill lions we will continue killing them until we are left with only five, and you will have to pay 3K to see them at the animal orphanage (if we don’t build another high-rise on that as well). But that’s not even the fun part. The fun part is that our kids won’t give two shits about going to see those lions or rhinos, they will be far more concerned with having racy hairstyles and amassing more virtual friends and being liked by strangers online. They will spend all their time online, finding face to face conversations strange and human interaction alien and so 2016. Lions will therefore not be something they will be dying to see, especially those five listless things that will spend the whole day inside a meshed perimeter getting ogled and photographed. They won’t even be lions – they will be shadows of lions, caged and lurking in that predatory aura.

You know what else our kids will never know? Kenchic. I don’t think we have eulogised Kenchic enough. We just moved on, man. We are always moving on. But some of us only knew Kenchic. When Kenchic started we didn’t know about yoga. We hadn’t started quoting Eat Pray Love. We ate. Carbs were cool. Doctors had not started scaring us with lifestyle diseases. Nobody was selling vegetable smoothies online. Or offline for that matter. Fitness apps were not a thing. Fitbits? Wharathose? We lived. We ate.

Kenchic particularly was the answer for anybody who went drinking and craved something meaty at 1am. It helped that there was no Alcoblow then, which meant that you could fearlessly drive to your Kenchic whilst envisioning the greasy offering you were about to devour. Talking of which, did I tell you that they caught up with me once, those Alcoblow guys? Right at that bypass between Riverside Drive and the Westlands Roundabout. 1am.

I’m driving along, five doubles in, happy as a lark, feeling rather invincible. When you are tipsy you never quite think bad things can happen to you. You feel like God loves you more than he loves everybody else. You feel like Jesus specifically died for you on that cross. You seek solace in the fact that you are a lost sheep and that God sent someone with a long staff and a robe to look for you and until they find you very little is going to happen to you. You wallow in this foolish delirium until you take a bend on that road and right there after that ka-bridge you see hazard signs, a police roadblock and cars pulled over on the side of the road and – chillingly -a police van. You sober up instantly with the thought – shit, 30K! You think quickly: should I switch off my headlights and stop and reverse the hell out of there? What if they think I’m a thug and they give chase and shoot at me because they don’t know I am just a lost sheep?

So I said, you know what, this is my day. God wanted it to happen this way. I can’t help it. So I drove towards the roadblock and I hoped and prayed that I didn’t have a tipsy face. I hoped they would wave me through. I told God, “God if you let these guys wave me through, I will not touch a tot of whisky for a whole week!” But then this cop raised his hand and I thought “Here we go, a night in the cooler…who should I call first?”

I pull over onto the shoulder of the road.

I was told that cops can tell you have been drinking when you can’t just shut up. The less you say the better. But there is always an urge to talk a lot when you have had a few. You always feel like the world is dying to hear your opinion. That your voice will reverse climate change. You want to tell the cop, “Officer, wewe ungefanya nini ungeona simba anatembea hapo Westlands, ikielekea hapo Oilibya? Eh? Simba mwenyewe, sio mbwa, simba, Officer? Risasi ama kuku? Sema Officer, risasi ama kuku?” Of course if you start talking shit like that he will know you are drunk because risasi ama kuku doesn’t even make sense to you.

So I rolled down the window and said in my calmest tone, “Habari, Officer?” He said, “Kila kitu iko sawa?” I nodded vigorously like a madman. He asked me to roll down my back window and he lit the backseat with a torch, looking, perhaps to see if I’m involved in human trafficking or something and I’m carrying a few Kisiis in the backseat. He then asked if I had been drinking and I shook my head and said I was from a long funeral meeting. Thankfully, he didn’t ask who died because I would have killed someone close to me right there and then. He said, “Pole” and waved me through. I couldn’t believe it! I wanted to climb out of the car and hug him and tell him that he is a good man and that God was seeing the good work he was doing to rid the roads of drunks, and that he would be rewarded handsomely once the man in a long staff finds him and he will never have to stand in the cold again sticking plastic into anyone’s mouth.

Anyway, Kenchic.

If you are over 30-years and you don’t live in Runda or Muthaiga, which I suspect you don’t if you haven’t stopped reading by now, you probably ate quite a bit at a Kenchic in the hey days. Kenchic was intimate. It was like going home. My two favourite Kenchics were the one in Hurlingham, at the petrol station and the Westlands one next to The Mall. I preferred the Westlands one because it was on my way home and after a night on the tiles it was only natural that you stop by there and satisfy the beast in you that craved meat. The trick was to eat there while it was still sizzling but also carry some home as a peace token because you were very late. Kenchic will never know how many female hearts it softened. Hehe. It’s so hard to scream at a tipsy man who has offered you chicken as a peace token -even if it is 4am and he has woken you up with his stumbling and cursing and sometimes singing.

There was a chap who served at the Kenchic Westlands, he was near the door, to your right as you entered. He hardly spoke. Always so sullen. He didn’t have any sunshine left in him. He used this pitch fork to spear your chicken and then proceeded to mutilate it with a sharp knife. My routine was to park, walk in and before paying tell him, “Kausha half kabisa alafu half ingine ni ya kubeba.” He would barely acknowledge me. Then I’d walk inside and pay through the cage: full chicken, one chips and two sachets of tomato sauce. You were handed a slip which you presented to another counter to get your chips and then your chicken from the sour guy. It came wrapped in a paper. You perched yourself precariously on the tall seats and spread open your kuku. I loved my chicken very dry and crispy and at 2am when you are tipsy, there is NOTHING that could match the taste of that chicken. I flooded my chips with vinegar, which they had in these plastic tubs. Then I ate.

At this time of the night there was never one sober patron in Kenchic. The place got jaywalkers from Electric Avenue, stumbling in with wide-eyed women in small clothes clinging onto their arms. The hubbub was upbeat. There was always some mad conversations going on down the long counter. Everybody was always so friendly, which made me wonder what would happen if they introduced alcohol in Parliament. Would they all hug each other and call each other brother and sister?

Couples would eat from the same paper wrapper. Men would eat fries from the same paper wrapper. There was never anyone eating salad. I hate when people order salad. I can’t particularly trust men who eat salads. It’s not like they look happy as they munch down their leaves, even though they might look trimmer. I don’t think life has gotten to a point where we need to eat salads. When we get to a point in life where we are eating and enjoying salads then I will know that maybe my time here is up.

You went to Kenchic because there was never a leaf of lettuce to be found. Or olives. Or cheese. Every table had something greasy and delicious and unhealthy and nobody looked sad or guilty eating it. Everybody had made peace with their choices in life.

The point of this post is an ode to someone I met at Kenchic. It was at Kenchic Westlands, shortly before 1am, mid 2012. I had parked right outside, right on the pavement because the watchman had told me it was OK. Plus I wasn’t going to be long. It was a cold grey night. Westlands was what Westlands has always been at that time; a city within a city but at the brink of decay. I ate my chicken and coming out what do I find, some cat had parked his automobile right behind mine, successfully curtailing my exit.

It was a white Subaru WRX with chrome rims. I was sure it belonged to some much younger chap on his first job, maybe in IT. I asked the watchman where the chap was and he said he wasn’t there when he was parking. “Ako tu hapa mahali,” he said and I figured, though he was a Subaru driver, he was smart enough to know he had blocked someone and he wouldn’t be a minute. So I waited. And waited. Then a bee started buzzing under my bonnet and the skin under my collar started getting hot and I started getting really pissed because he was getting me in more trouble at home for being even more late! Did you know that there is a huge difference, say getting home at 5:03am and getting home at 4:49am? When you go home at 5:03am you went home in morning. That’s what the charge sheet will read.

Anyway, after like 15 minutes, this guy ambles out with a chic.

And that’s how I met Chrispine Ndirangu. He was chubby back then. Hehe. He had cheeks you wanted to pinch. They came out of Kenchic laughing at something he had said or something the girl had said. She had on a blue dress and no bra. I know because her nipples had made two dangerous holes in her dress.

My meeting with Chrispine did not start on a good note, right there outside Kenchic. I was tipsy. He was tipsy. Working against me was that he had a woman on his arm, which meant he had more to prove. Good sense would have dictated that I let it slide but at that time of the night good sense already went to bed hours ago, so when I told him that he was completely insensitive for blocking me he asked that I ‘cool it’. I’m not making this up, I swear. “Cool it, boss.” That’s what he said. Like he was a member of Cool and the freakin’ Gang. Or a drummer for the Jackson Five. Cool it. Who says, “Cool it?”

I must have said that how can I cool it when my ass is out here freezing while he’s inside stuffing his face? We exchanged a few words that weren’t too strong but also weren’t too light. Like I said I was destined to lose this confrontation because he was with a woman, who all this while had slipped into the front seat and was watching us listlessly through the windscreen. She kept sticking her head out the window and calling Ndirangu by a pet name I can’t remember now (and he won’t tell me because of a reason you will find out in a bit) telling him that to “achana” with me, that they ought to get going.

And here is what changed that mood. When the chick said “aah, [insert nickname here] let’s go” I told him. “Listen to her, if she asks one more time you won’t get laid tonight.” The mood shifted right there. He laughed and said, “Oh I definitely am getting laid tonight…” Then he said he was sorry and gave me this hands-around-someone-hug. [I swear I didn’t hold him]. Then we spoke for a bit and I don’t know how we exchanged numbers but we did. Months passed, like six months and one day he SMSs and says, “I haven’t seen you at Kenchic again” and just like that we became pals. We met for drinks once in a while until he relocated to Moshi, TZ for work.

I sent him a message the other day, telling him that I was writing about Kenchic and I was going to mention how we met. He asked me not to write that he was with a chic that night. I asked why? He said because he is getting married in a few months. *rolls eyes*

“Oh, I get it. You gave her the impression that you have been a very centered chap, huh?” I asked. “You probably told her you have have always been a long-term relationship kind of guy?”

“Haha. No. It’s just that she will read it and it might upset her, you know how chicks are? She might ask me many questions about that girl. In fact, I might be asked about that girl for ten years!”

“Haha. True. By the way, what happened to her? I remember her blue dress.”

“Haha. It was nothing, guy. You even remember what she was wearing?”

“Well, it’s not the only thing I remember, but yeah.” (He didn’t get that joke. Sigh.)

Eventually I convinced him that my writing about that night and that girl is part of the story and that it is completely harmless because really, he was 29-years old and had a 29-year old lifestyle. Besides she hadn’t met his fiancé by then and when he did he turned him into a different man. [Grin].

He made me promise that I wouldn’t “scandalize” him in this post, make him look like a drunk who roamed the night with women. “Bra-less women, you forgot that part,” I told him.

So Ndirangu is what I leave Kenchic with apart from many small moments with their chicken. Like I said, I don’t think we have eulogized Kenchic enough and it’s amazing how fast we move on and let go. I bet by end of the week nobody will be talking about Chase Bank either – it might be sooner if a politician happens to be pontificating whilst a podium crashes around him.

What was your Kenchic and what is your Kenchic moment? I’m curious.

Ps. To Ndirangu and Esther, I wish you well in your union. Esther, we haven’t met yet, but I will tell you this much: only chicken could make that guy happy. Then you came along.

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189 Comments
    1. I remember back in the days in Eld when Kenchic first popped up. Cash was so hard to come by then. I lived in Kapsoya and on the days we went out we had to forgo transport to save up for a good portion of the chicken later on after our drinking spree. those days i remember them with nostalgia, the good old days.

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  1. So now with the close of Kenchic outlets I think it is time to let go of the 10+ years grudge I’ve had with mum for not buying me chicken some day. My heart feels all light already, my body though is another story all together

  2. what would happen if they introduced alcohol in Parliament. Would they all hug each other and call each other brother and sister?lol

  3. Kenchic…there was a way you could eat that chicken at Westlands; sober up and think you can start all over again. One day, we decided we could restart drinking afresh, after a 5AM breakfast at Kenchic. Needless to say, 11 AM found us on some balcony at electric avenue in some club i am having trouble remembering. Sam my company then, is now happily married now. With three tots to show for it. Damn!!

  4. On lions, I was surprised to read online today that another lion had been spotted in Hardy, Karen this morning. What’s up with the animals? or do I say what’s up with humans?

    1. THIS IS NOT BLOODY FB…Comment on the damn article not your friggin lions…arrgh.
      Just told myself to ‘Cool it’…forgive her Father.

  5. Well, I’m certainly not over thirty…yet but I’ve had enough Kenchic moments. My favorite was the Karen one because they made the best chips masala ever! Kwanza that with a quarter breast and a picana mango! Happiness for days I tell you. Nice piece Biko.

    1. As a footnote to Biko’s articles,I skim through the comments! I stopped at the sight of your face and your AVI! Will stop and camp here for the day

  6. There IS alcohol in parliament!! Do you imagine the behavior they exhibit is normal sober behavior. They are all totally inebriated.

  7. hehehheheh….only chicken could make that guy happy. Then you came along. Every one has a Kenchic experience …. I remember mine at Kenchic Nanyuki , man i loved the gizzards,i used to squander my transport fare just to entice my taste buds with those gizzards….

  8. The Sonford Kenchic will feature in my euology. Chips and a ka-quater chicken and an ice cold picana never tasted better than at wee hrs of the morning back then!

    1. Lol… Me too Sanford i would make up drama while going home just for whoever was with me aingie box ya Sanford… I miss all my drunk friends… 11yrs now sijui walienda wapi.

  9. Ooooo Kenchic!!! where to even start… People should know that back then, as a teenage girl, It was perfectly Ok for your crush to ask you out and take you to kenchic… And yes, you would both dig in to your chips with toothpicks or your fingers… No folks there and no plates… Basically no cutlery… And for sure after that date you would feel so loved you would tell all your friends when you go back to school after April holidays…. I still think those very genuine kenchic dates were very romantic… 😀

  10. hahahaha…just made my last day in Nairobi before I relocate to Turkana..”Life happens and money just makes it happen more”. I remember way back in high school playing for Patch Machine, we would make a stopover at the Kenchic in Westlands where Mr. Maina (Games Teacher) will buy for us ‘fries’. The interesting bit is that we would enter Kenchic and within 10 minutes at the time of exit that place was empty; no chilli sauce, kachumbari, vinegar, salt..everything gone. So to teach us a lesson every time they will see the Patch “Pararira” they will clear their tables empty…lol, memories are made of these.

  11. wanted to climb out of the car and hug him and tell him that he is a good man and that God was seeing the good work he was doing to rid the roads of drunks, and that he would be rewarded handsomely once the man in a long staff finds him and he will never have to stand in the cold again sticking plastic into anyone’s mouth.

    That just got me laughing out so loudly

  12. The other day I was walking from work and I met this mlevi guy probably in his late thirties. So he was shouting “I am sexy and I know it”. I just kept wondering kwani did someone tell him he was not sexy? Why did he get the urge to let us all know? Or was he….you know? PS. He was not sexy. Now Biko when we start talking about chicken we will have to do it as a delegation to the directors of Kenchic. We have to let them know we’re hurt. That we are not okay. We need to even be dramatic kidogo and throw tantrums at them. Even say we we’ll all go back to shagz if they refuse to bring their chicken back. But seriously though chicken runs Nairobi. We all love chicken and chics 🙂 Me I like to see chicken as a tool. A tool to soften hearts with or to bribe missus with. Works always 

    1. you better not be saying this yet you are one of those people that frequent galitos and KFC and thus in a way contributed to the death of kuku mfalme.

  13. “You always feel like the world is dying to hear your opinion. That your voice will reverse climate change.”
    Climate Change….really!!

  14. I pity the kisiis. They don’t read blogs and they haven’t joined instagram, who will be their voice? The cops encounter was funny…great piece

    1. @biko….what did we do to deserve this flogging every other tuesday? A kisii girl broke your heart sometime back?no?

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  15. Of course if you start talking shit like that he will know you are drunk because risasi ama kuku doesn’t even make sense to you.

    fare thee well kenchic
    biko you just made my week

  16. I have an impression i will keep reading you even after moving to Muthaiga and Runda of the then, Hope you wont insult me for my loyalty or rather hope no one would have taken over and all we will be doing is moving on and forgetting about you. Good one Mr!

  17. Lovely! My strangest Kenchick moment was discovering Kenchic Machakos sold tea as well. Tea! I went there a few times to confirm I’d not seen my own things!

  18. So much nostalgia, I could almost imagine myself at that Westlands Kenchic. I always prayed to be taken there every Sunday after church 🙂

  19. Great writing , thanks for making my week. … “She had on a blue dress and no bra. I know because her nipples had made two dangerous holes in her dress ” .. you still notice these while tipsy ? The chicken I enjoyed most was that served at “Serena Ndogo” or those vibandas opposite Madison Insurance in upperhill .

  20. Sonford Fish & Chips. Moi Avenue. Those fries, in the wrappers, and the chicken guy! Same story. A nice piece Biko! Keep us laughing. Your satire is on the spot.

  21. Talk/read of chicken and its lunch hour,men you made feel hungry double!!chicken for lunch it is….*wharathose*lol only biko can use such words smh
    Good read like always though

  22. Kenchic Kimathi street. Chips, kuku quarter with the heavenly kachumbari. OOOOh how i loved how the kachumbari went down well with the chicken n chips. Memories are made of this……

  23. For us Eastlands-bound staggerers, it was always the one neighbouring Karumaindo, just before boarding the mathree at Ambassadeur. The place was crawling with pick-pockets – they knew most customers at that time were invariably on the wrong side of sober?

  24. You guy are so lucky? Remember that if you did not abstain from whisky for a week after that alcoblow saga , your punishment is on the way… You don promise God and fail… Hahaha. Nice read!

  25. …Doctors had not started scaring us with lifestyle diseases. Nobody was selling vegetable smoothies online. Or offline for that matter. Fitness apps were not a thing. Fitbits? Wharathose? We lived. We ate….Oh the good old days!

  26. Mine came recently. It was a Thursday night( or rather Friday morning)and had just come from K1. As we`re saying our goodbyes , one of my friends insists I ride with her in her ride. Being the gentleman I am, I never let her ask twice plus she said we`re going the same route so no need for a cab. Kufumba kufumbua, ghafla bin vu, we were parking at Kenchic Hurli for chips and chicken. It`s 0400hours,I have a meeting at the office at 0730hours and K1 is not famous for serving tea!!!
    but who was I to complain….
    *sigh* things we do for breasts…..

  27. My beloved Kenchic. I’m still in denial. Kwanza that Kenchic for hurlingham. Eish! It was a standard stopover.Though the chillie sauce always gave me the runs (still does), but it was worth it.And you can’t eat kenchic off a plate. It’s not the same. It has to be on that random karatasi. Where will the supplier of that karatasi supply to? Or the guy who supplies the jwala that they place the chicken on? Indeed, we haven’t eulogized Kenchic enough.

  28. If you are over 30-years and you don’t live in Runda or Muthaiga, which I suspect you don’t if you haven’t stopped reading by now,, ouch!! Bt sawa tu

  29. LooooL! Biko Kenchick was the it place in my campo days before i became a snob for KFc and Chicken Inn,backyard binging and drinking to a stupor was like a crown back in campus..Kenchick and the Smokie vendors saved our hungry jaws i admit,from Moi Avenue Mombasa after a crazy night in Bellavista to Westlands,i went down hard hehe!

  30. My beloved Kenchic. I’m still in denial. Kwanza that Kenchic for hurlingham. Eish! It was a standard stopover.Though the chillie sauce always gave me the runs (still does), but it was worth it.And you can’t eat kenchic off a plate. It’s not the same. It has to be on that random karatasi. Where will the supplier of that karatasi supply to? Or the guy who supplies the jwala that they place the chicken on? Indeed, we haven’t eulogized Kenchic enough.

    https://sonofachief.wordpress.com/

  31. ohhh Kenchic Kimathi street after club hoping in town,those were the days.the KFC and Chicken inn of today. Nostalgia Nice one Biko for the memories.

  32. Biko, awesome read as always, after being waved through by the Officer, when was the next time you had a tot of whiskey?

  33. “Officer, wewe ungefanya nini ungeona simba anatembea hapo Westlands, ikielekea hapo Oilibya? Eh? Simba mwenyewe, sio mbwa, simba, Officer? Risasi ama kuku? Sema Officer, risasi ama kuku?” Too too funny. Point taken…STFU when you see ’em NTSA fellas haha. Nice piece as always.

  34. ”though he was a Subaru driver, he was smart enough to know he had blocked someone and he wouldn’t be a minute.” Biko what are you insinuating about Subaru drivers?

  35. Besides she hadn’t met his fiancé by then and when he did he turned him into a different man. [Grin].. I see what you did there.

  36. My fave Kenchic…University Way just next to Coop bank, and I didn’t go there for the chicken but for their humongous spicy samosas and some greasy something they had named lamb chops…sema heaven and squandered helb loan..!

  37. Kenchic Kimathi street, that description of a tipsy guy waaah….aty You feel like Jesus died specifically for you….i swear my ribs are gone. Wonderful article

  38. Everytime i was going out of nairobi or coming back to the city,i had to pass by kenchic n take home the chicken n masala chips….hw i miss those ma days

  39. Just as the son of God died for you, Kukus actually kicked the damn bucket only to end up at Kenchic for you! Poor animals…they actually deserve the indiscriminate onslaught if only to shove the crisp taste of white meat down our throughts.. Meanwhile we eulogize the demise of our lions as we domestic more kukus while looking forward to shoot them indiscriminately incase they grow horns and more feathers threatening to fly away!

  40. My biggest concern when reading this, unti now actually, is that there are no alcoblow officers in this corner of the internet. Or better yet, if that particular one does come across this then another beautiful tuesday shall arise!

  41. Rarely do I come a name that is almost mine. This just missed “S”.
    To Chrispine(s) Ndirangu wishing you the best in your nuptials!

  42. Todays piece, too good. I always look forward to this, there is something witty about to be dropped after every few lines. The cops escapade too funny.

  43. Nostlagic moment worked at kenchic for three years night shifts were the best and the walevis with their never ending complicated orders!!.

  44. During campus days… The best Kenchic was opposite Jevanjee gardens right at the corner! It never seemed to close like most things on that street including #ClubHollywood which was just around the corner. We used to walk down to town from campo for our #FridayFix. Nowadays the city centre is a place I only read about in newspapers But the chicken will leave long in the memory… RIP Kenchic!

  45. for us guys who clubbed in westlands like some ritual we always had a stop over at sonfords before going to sleep. happy days hmm

  46. Seeee, we have moved on already!, Sad thing is unlike kenchic Chase has drowned with people’s source of livelihood…

  47. The Kenchic at Jeevanjee Gardens is like home to me. The greasy chips with chilli and vinegar! Aaauuuuwwiii!! And no I did not eat it while high and yes it softens the heart. And thighs and arms and tummy and you simply become fat! Kenchic is a love affair that needed not die.

  48. In high school, when closing day was about to fika, my deskmate would look at me and say, “I can’t wait to reach Nairobi and eat chips off that white paper” That’s how we knew we were home 😉

  49. This>>”it’s not like they look happy as they munch down their leaves” Ghaaaiii! who even says that?? Hilarious. I love salads though 🙂

  50. Then there’s the Kenchic, right opposite Jevanjee Gardens. The old man who cuts up the chicken once gave me a story. It was the first Kenchic in Nairobi. Only patroned by the whites in the early 1950s. Africans were only welcome if they had donned a suit complete with a tie. Currently being ran by the 3rd generation of its original founders. It’s the only place where the chicken gets off the rusty aged grill ready to be devoured. They had to start “kausharing” their chicken so as to keep up with the competition.

  51. Try Chicken Garden, Bruce House Groundfloor.Just 160 bob per piece… Go for the spicy chicken ,regular is for sissies! Thank me later.

  52. Kwani what is this you have against kisii people? Anyway…..
    Its actually sad that a true Kenyan brand has to close down because of new brands like KFC…….kenchic will be dearly missed!!!!!!

    Justasimplekenyangirl.wordpress.com

  53. Kenchic made me fall in love with audis.My partner at tht time-some interesting kisii guy always took me to chicken inn-the oillibya westie to get my fancy kuku then wed drive down kenchic for his fix cause it reminded him of his childhood.Ati satos after church-btw show me a kisii who is not SDA,their old man would cram all 7of them in a red audi to Kenchic.When he got older and broke even…he got himself a swanky Audi.I drove that car to the coast on one occassion and that is how I fell in love with the 4rings.So kenchic taught me that a woman needs 5 rings.A wedding band and one audi.Ps.I love how you normally meet ppl and make friendships in odd places…shows me another side of life 🙂

  54. My favorite Kenchic as a kid was opposite Jeevanjee Gardens. The ORIGINAL kenchic not the one that was there last. Their Chicken made us drive all the way from Kiambu and those chips..those chips! tasted like chicken. I think they fried the chips in the chicken oil! RIP KENCHIC.

  55. My MOST memorable Kenchic moment is going for chips and Kuku on the kenchic opposite Jevanjee gardens on Sundays after church. Dad would park the car right outside and give us money we go buy some takeaway.We would then go home and feast and have a nice afternoon nap. As the greasy kuku and that ka oily gravy melted into our bodies.no counting calories coz it was worth it.

    *** I love how men can instantly rise above some silly two minute squabble and become friends. I admire that quality in you.

  56. My Kenchic moment was every Sunday after Holy Mass at Basilica with my fam, my dad took us to the one that was opp Jeevanjee. We were always sooo excited!!! Nice times

  57. Kimathi Street was mine. Back then, campus days that was our to go to dinner date. So we’d walk to Kenchic and use our teeth to tear the tomato sauce sachets. And then drink an ice cold soda. 9:00pm, head to Sno-Cream at Kenya House, and have a strawberry sundae…in the night. Adios Kenchic!

  58. Of speed, cops, Kisiis and funerals. So this one morning am hurtling down Salgaa rushing for my aunty’s burial in Kisumu (after I had pitiad Kenchic in Nakuru of course). Then this cop stops me (he was Kisii). I put on the most woyie expression and tell him about how if my aunty is buried in my absence then she will haunt me forever. Thank God Kisiis believe the same tales and he waved me through. I felt like hugging him too. As usual great read Biko!

  59. Your hatred for Kisii’s will consume you some day.Kenchick was a must stop over after numerous swallows from Bellevista.

  60. My kenchic (or not) was sonford and sons tom mboya street….
    I still do not understand why they let go of such a brand!

  61. My kenchic moment was every sunday after church at Lighthouse church.. We would stop at the kenchic opposite juvanjee for some greasy chicken bfr heading to kileh. It was like a routine n mayne it made me go to church every sunday cz of the chicken after service.
    Nice read Biko n RIP KENCHIC

  62. Biko, great piece as always, but some sloppy writing towards the end: “Besides she hadn’t met his fiancé by then and when he did he turned him into a different man.” You’ve mixed up the he/she and for a moment I thought your pal started batting for the other team. Do the right thing and fix it.

  63. Everyone goes kuku about kenchic. It’s that fantansy that makes your mouth water just thinking about the crispy salty thigh. Memories are made of chicken. I mean most guys katiad chics buy taking them to kenchic inns,not the chips funga kinda way but most were genuine.Good read as always

  64. Here when the furore has died down. Sometimes looking in between the paragraphs incase I missed a laugh, tied up in knots with morbid humor Ati I’d have killed someone close to me. Alcohol talks.
    Then soggy kenchic fries filled in my hips and frame where my mum’s feats failed.

  65. It was a white Subaru WRX with chrome rims. I was sure it belonged to some much younger chap on his first job, maybe in IT. tell us why IT and not finance or something different. Just curious

  66. ‘Did you know that there is a huge difference, say getting home at 5:03am and getting home at 4:49am? When you go home at 5:03am you went home in morning. That’s what the charge sheet will read.’ Hehehe so it’s not only me who this rule is applied to..lmao The Kenchic next to tacos had the best chicken breasts -greasy and juicy- top that up with all manner of scantily clad chick’s with breasts out and Kenchic Kimathi Street was the bachelor’s must-go eatery at those wee hours of the night

  67. Kenchic university way had crappy chips.The chicken was perfect.Chipos tasted like they had been fried together with fish.

  68. Biko, waaaa…ati God was seeing the good work he was doing to rid the roads of drunks, and that he would be rewarded handsomely once the man in a long staff finds him and he will never have to stand in the cold again sticking plastic into anyone’s mouth.

    Very good read.

  69. I loved my Kenchic chicken too, favourite spot was around Kenya Cinema, then came Luthuli, then came Red robbin, then Mac fries…….and now, we watching our weight so we don’t know what came after Mac Fries! Good read as always!!

  70. But there is always an urge to talk a lot when you have had a few . You always feel like the world is dying to hear your opinin . That your voice will reverse climate change…. hilarios and true
    Keep the progress man

  71. Kenchic memories. My wife still remembers about Kenchic opposite Barclays market street. Its was still safe to stroll around either from nrb university hostels or a drunken nite in Nrb streets. Catch chips and chicken and stroll bac to the university hostels. I bought her soo much chicken she stills remembers todate. In fact during our bad days. I still remind her. Don’t you remember me spending all my pocket money at that Kenchic place. Now engineers and all. Memories.

  72. We used to come back as Summer Bunnies. Times had changed. Zig Zag Zog had unceremoniously closed. Carni was not what it used to be. We henged in cabs and not via matatus like back when we were in our under-30 days when we would get to Carni (by mat) at around 8:30, mill around the parking lot and then go in after 9 so we wouldn’t be too early. Those were the days. Well, we summer-bunnied and the only constant that remained was that 2 – 3 – 4 am trip to Kenchic. The one in Hurlingham. The one with the unofficial after party where fellow walevis gleefully ordered their chicken…stuffed their faces and put some in a take-away to indulge in when the sun rose. My friends ALWAYS got sick in the morning because, well…they blamed the chicken. We shall always have Kenchic.