Curry

When you think of Kenya, where I spent some years as a child, the Indian community is probably not the first thing that comes to mind. Yet there are many Sikhs living in Kenya - the British brought many Indian workers to build the East Africa railroads and to serve in the police forces.
My family was often invited to the home of Kenyan Sikhs - I once saw a Sikh man rolling up his long long hair before putting on his turban, a beautiful and mesmerizing sight. Most of the time, we joined Sikh families for curry dinners and as a result, my mum learnt to prepare curries; they became staples of our own meals. Years later, in Paris, when a friend of my sister's was horrified she did not know how to make the classic French dish "escalopes à la crème", she retorted that she could make curries - and she prepared a fabulous chicken curry to drive her point home.
I always have curry in my pantry; I add it to pumpkin soups, chickpea salads and pretty much anything. I bought this one at Penzey Spices in Santa Monica yesterday.
And a must-read about curry: the fabulous Curry: A Tale of Cooks and Conquerors by Lizzie Collingham.

The picture hereunder, taken at my Nairobi school, reflects some of the ethnic diversity wonderful Kenya allowed me to discover and value.

The Bolter - Remembering Kenya

In Nancy Mitford's novels, the narrator's mother is an elusive character, the Bolter, who dashes around the world, collecting husbands; together with the Hun-hating, entrenching tool-wielding Uncle Matthew, the Bolter is one of the most memorable and funniest characters. It turns out she was inspired by Idina Sackville, a five-time divorced eccentric who had fallen in love with Kenya - along with too many younger men she was keen on marrying.

In The Bolter, just released in the USA, her great-granddaughter Frances Osborne tells the story of her life. Not only does it portray a unique woman, but it also explores the mores of Edwardian London, the craziness of 1920's England, the impact of World War One, and the methods of English colonialism in East Africa. In Kenya, she was friends with the Dane Karen Blixen, who later wrote Out of Africa - they even shared a lover, Denys Finch Hatton.
Colonialism in Kenya was meant to be based on railroads - in the early 1980's I took the train from Nairobi to Naivasha with my family (see pic - I'm on the right). This fascinating book brought back many memories of Kenya where I lived as a child. Some of Osborne's lyrical description of Kenya's landscapes and wildlife stirred deep emotions in me, making me long for my very own paradise lost.

And if your paradise is all things books, do check out dear Gabbi's fabulous post on the topic. This must-see post features great pictures, an amazing visit to the Los Angeles Public Library, and, yes, an award for me...
I love reading, and I love Gabbi!

Beautiful Treats

These treats are so beautiful that I cannot bear to slice them up and eat them...
These California avocados are one of many varieties available at the Santa Monica Farmers' Market, and with their shiny, taut skin, they remind me of the avocados that grew in our garden in Kenya - eating them is one of my very earliest food memories - what are yours?
Can you guess what the other picture is? Candied mini-tangerines from Provence, a typical local delicacy that my foodie mum sent me.

These days, I sometimes make a gourmand snack I invented, the Banana Choc Oatmeal:
Make oatmeal.
Add a pureed banana.
When the oatmeal is still hot, add chocolate chips.
And there, you have a chocolaty, fruity, warm and healthy snack.

Happy Birthday Birthday Birthday!

March 3 is the birthday of my dear, dear sister. Here's a picture of her, in my mum's arms on the day of her very first birthday party, in Kenya, where my family moved just weeks after my sister was born.

March 2 is Benjy's birthday - the beast turns 8! - while March 4 is the birthday of my wonderful friend Kelly.

The Inauguration - Thinking of the People of Kenya

With a Masai

With Jane, our wonderful nanny. After we left Kenya, she got married and now has a family of her own - she named one of her daughters Laura as a tribute to my mum.

With Francis, and my sister

The Inauguration - Thinking of Kenya

As Barack Obama is about to be sworn in as our new president, I can't help but think of Kenya where, as I have mentioned on this blog many times, I spent some blissful years as a kid. I feel a lot of pride about Obama's election, not only as an American but also as if I were Kenyan somehow.
As the new president made his way to Washington D.C. by train, I thought I'd share a picture of my mum, my sister and me on a train in Kenya, between Nairobi and Naivasha. And a picture of me at a school party in Nairobi - I'm sure the younger presidential daughter, adorable little Sasha, wouldn't mind wearing my fairy costume to the inauguration ball...

If you want a piece of the inauguration, check out the really cool Runway To Change collection - I love Tory Burch's Obama tote, Zac Posen's Jan 20, 2009 tee-shirt and Deréon's Hope tee. I want them all, especially the latter!!!

Also check out Shepard Fairey's new companion picture to his already iconic Obama portrait, created for the Adopt A Pet campaign. Download the image here.

More posts celebrating Kenya in the days to come - stay tuned!

Le Lion, The Elephant and The Rhino

On Saturday at the brocante (flea market), I found an ancient copy of Joseph Kessel's Le Lion, a book that had enchanted me as a child; indeed, the novel tells the story of a little girl, Patricia, who lives in Kenya and has a special relationship with a wild lion. I too spent my childhood in Kenya and while I did not cuddle with wild beasts, safaris gave me plenty of opportunities to watch and adore animals. I had a soft spot for elephants - I almost bought the toy elephant, left, that I also found at the brocante.

The closest I came to genuine wild animals was when I rode... a rhinoceros! Grey rhinos are endangered, so they used to be followed around by armed guards and were thus comfortable with humans. It was a unique experience, and one that made me forever an advocate of animals. May we preserve them.

Schooling

Yesterday I filled in for a friend who teaches at a Parisian public high school that offers an undergrad-level program to prepare students for the entrance exams to graduate engineering schools. I snapped a picture of the blackboard for you - I like the flower that pops up, left, like a whimsical provocation, so true to the teenage spirit.
I worked 1-on-1 with students yesterday, which I love. Teenagers have such an inner intensity. And they're smart.

I remember my first school... Riverside Farm Nursery School, in Nairobi (Kenya) was right across the street from our house. There were lots of children from different countries, all blabbering away in English. No matter how wonderful the institution, I never really liked school; I always felt like my heart was somewhere else, where the rules of the games were my own, and where I got to choose the stories I longed to hear. I had friends, but I felt like a loner who had somehow not received the key memo - an impression that became only more intense as years went by and as I went on to other, more French institutions around the world. By the time I got to a very Parisian high school, I felt and was treated as something of a freak.
I hate to finish on such a sour note so I'll only add: if you're in high school and miserable, the good news is, high school has an end.

African Photography In Amsterdam

An outstanding show of contemporary African photographs opened on Friday at the Stedelijk Museum - it's a must-see. The picture on the poster is by Nontsikelo 'Lolo' Veleko, from South Africa. My own favorite works were by Hentie van der Merve (South Africa) and Luis Basto (Mozambique).
I haven't returned to Sub-Saharan Africa since I left Kenya, via Zimbabwe and South Africa, at age 5. The show brought me back to a continent whose intense light, raw colors, and sublime nature I miss with all my heart.

Colors please!

Like all ballerinas, I always stock pink satin ribbons, for my pointe shoes. Satin ribbons, tied around the neck, the wrist, the waist (or around a gift...), lend their instantly chic sheen to any outfit, so I like having some on hand ; I keep them in a glass jar (this one used to hold a scented candle), for a little glossy color in my bedroom.




As a little girl in Kenya, I admired the local girls' hairdos, and Jane, my nanny, would indulge me, patiently braiding my sleek blonde hair, bleached by the Indian Ocean and the fierce equator sunshine, into dozens of skinny strands. My collection of tiny candy-colored hairclips was second to none.
After leaving Kenya, my family spent a few months in the French Alps and it seemed natural to ask my mum to reproduce the beloved hairstyle. I stepped into the classroom one morning, my many braids dancing down my back. The children had never seen anything like that; they circled around me silently. Thinking back, I am surprised this shy little girl did not wince in embarrassment. I can only recall my pride.

I outgrew the hairdo but never ceased to marvel at African ladies' style. Seeing them on the métro in traditional prints fills me with joy. (In France, the Malian-born Lamine Badian Kouyaté, whose label Xuly Bët was featured at the V&A in London in 2005, blends such prints with an urban yet feminine sensibility). Inspired by those women, I bought some fabrics (pictured) at the Marché Saint-Pierre, rue Charles Nodier, but now I'm not sure what to do with them... Any suggestions?

Thinking about Kenya

I could tell you about the taste of fresh avocados and Ribena, the sandy beaches of Mombasa and the colors of the Indian Ocean, the monkeys sneaking into our garden to get their fill of bananas, about our countless safaris, about riding horses and on one rhino's back (yes, really!), I could tell you about a lake covered with pink-flamingos, about the elephants I always adored, and all the happiness Kenya gave the blessed child I was.
But my heart shrinks, as the news bring daily updates on the violence in Kenya, and I can only think of the faces of people I loved. First and foremost, my nanny Jane's beautiful smile, as I tasted maize meal in her room. The handsome, aloof Masai in his traditional jewelry, who accepted to pose for a picture with my sister and me. My parents' Sikh acquaintances, who invited us to curry dinners at their homes - and that Sikh man I saw one morning, tying his sumptuous hair before he put on his turban. And Joseph, and Francis, the familiar and comforting figures who made home, home. I hope they are all safe.

To learn about Africa, its plights and its success stories, and above all its people, check out Afropolitans, where Beverly links to articles from the international press and many online resources.

Tribute to Kenya

Kenya is in the news, with distressing reports of violence and unrest.
That country is always on my mind, as I spent a couple of blissful years there as a child; I have an old photograph of the Kilimanjaro in my room (while technically in Tanzania, the regal mountain can be seen from Kenya). I took a picture of the photograph to share with you on this blog, and then realized that a reflection of me snapping the pic can been seen in front of the mountain.
I like its ghost-like quality and its implication that, somehow, I am also a part of that country, of that landscape.