---
category: "2"
changed: "2019-09-12T10:25:41.000Z"
comment_count: "0"
created: "2013-12-27T17:31:00.000Z"
featured_image: "Young Hasani.jpg"
images: ["Hassani 1952-2.jpg","mukeria 1957.jpg","stan_with_hassani_on_return_to_kenya.jpg"]
ix: 24
nid: 31
original_author: "Janet Woolley"
path: "content/hassani"
title: "Hassani - Part of our Kenya Family "
type: "article"
uuid: "d2c23fdf-a5ca-48e4-a783-f2ffee6668b0"
---
Tall, slim and quietly spoken, his name was Hassan but we always called him 'Hassani'. He was a muslim who came from Mombasa, on the Kenya coast, close to the islands of Zanzibar and Lamu, steeped in a history of Arab/Islamic culture. He came to work for us as a cook while we were at Diani beach on holiday in 1951 then he came back with us to Nairobi and stayed with us for nearly 15 years, becoming more of a family friend than a servant.

Hassani spoke proper Swahili but easily understood our attempts at 'kitchen swahili', a sort of pidgin version, and he learned to speak some English as well. He was kind and gentle and we loved him. He left his home and family and moved with us from Nairobi to Kisii, to Nyeri and then Kericho. He was a wonderful cook, I don't know where he learned it but some of his specialities included roast beef and yorkshire pudding, fruit salads, and the most delicious creamy ice cream with chopped up mars bars mixed into it... there seemed to be nothing he couldn't create. He started work at 7 am squeezing fresh orange juice for our breakfast and then taking Mum and Dad tea in bed. In the early days our main meal was at lunch time and Hassani would cook roast dinners, pies, stews, fish dishes and fabulous puddings. Beef was freely available in Kenya but chicken was a special real treat, mainly for Sundays. I remember when I was probably about about 7, watching Hassani kill a chicken; he picked one running around in the back garden and slit its throat, but it still kept running (for a bit). I wasn't squeamish and had no problem eating the chicken afterwards.

Fish was usually talapia, fresh from lakes and rivers, except when we were at the coast when we feasted on succulent lobsters (crayfish), prawns and exotic fish of all shapes and colours which Hassani bought from the fishermen who bought baskets of their day's catch to the kitchen door, then cooked to perfection. I loved watching the live blue and gold lobsters flapping round the kitchen floor waving their nippers while Hassani chose the best specimens. Prawns arrived as a seething brown mass in a basket, all wriggling tails and waving antennae. Handfuls were scooped out onto the scales then quickly thrown into a pan of boiling water, they were so tasty!!! Lobsters met the same fate and were tender and delicious, just served with salad and Hassani's home made mayonnaise. He also made delicious fresh lime juice as limes were plentiful at the coast. When we collected shells from our goggling trips to the reef, Hassani would clean them for us by skillfully removing with a knife whatever slimy or crabby object lived inside, this meant we could keep them and they never got smelly. Hassani would go home to visit his family when we went back to Mombasa on holiday but then he came home with us. When we went on camping safaris Hassani came with us to cook.

Hassani lived in the servants quarters (boys quarters), within the garden area wherever we lived. These were very basic stone built rooms, pretty small, and most of the cooking was done outside. Hassani was also responsible for some shopping; he supplemented our visits to the Duka in town by buying produce from men and women who regularly called at our kitchen door selling their wares in huge woven baskets, he would select the best produce and barter for the best price. This is how we bought eggs, making sure they would float in water so we knew they were fresh, vegetables and fruit, chicken and fish. Doorstep sellers also brought carved wooden and stoneware animals, shells and decorative woven baskets; Hassani always helped us get the best deal.

Although he was a cook Hassani also did a bit of housework but he didn't do laundry or childcare as this was the job of our ayah - of which we had two. My ayah was called Fatuma and she looked after me at Duke of York School. After Mike and Kathy were born, they were looked after by Mukeria who started working for us in Kisii then came to Nyeri with us as well. Mukeria laughed a lot but looked quite scary as her front teeth had been sharpened to a point. She got on well with Hassani! Kathy as the youngest had the closest relationship with Mukeria who taught her to speak Swahili. She eventually left the family when we all went to boarding school in 1963.

We often empoyed a gardener or shamba boy, especially in the early days and 1969/70 in Kericho we even had a "syce" to help look after two horses which Kathy had borrowed. At that time we also had a young lad called Johanna working as a house boy and he taught Mike how to shoot pigeons with his shotgun; Johanna was a much better shot than Mike.

I don't think Mum or Dad were very comfortable with the idea of having domestic servants when they first arrived in Kenya in 1950, neither of them had any previous experience of this lifestyle, but they soon realised that it was normal practice and that the Africans relied on the income this employment provided to support their families. Dad paid the school fees for Hassani's eldest son Kassim and they kept in touch after Dad left Kenya. Wendy had a similar experience when she went to Kenya in the 70s - every day prospective cooks and house-girls lined up at her back door begging for employment, until she finally gave in and took someone on.

Hassani became quite unhappy when we moved to kericho in 1962, maybe he had been away from his family for too long; the local tribes people, the Kipsigis, had a very different culture from those in Nairobi and Nyeri, maybe he was just getting old. He even got two dogs to keep him company - named Kipper and Kifaru, they were labrador/alsatian cross and were very lively. He started drinking and eventually in about 1968/69 he decided to return home to the coast where he re-married and had more children. He didn't go back to work again as a cook. He remained in touch though and came to visit when we were on holiday at Diani.

After Hassani had died, Dad and Wendy went to visit with his son Kassim.