On Friday night, we were all invited to experience a Brazilian BBQ by the Medical Director of KCEMT. Just getting to sit and eat with the "who's -who" of Kenyan EMS was awesome, and then the food started coming out. If you've never experienced this type of feast, allow me to explain.
First, there is a card on the table in front of you. On one side it is green and basically says, "keep the meat coming"; the other side is red and say, "I'm about to explode, please don't put anything else in front of me or I may puke." They invite you to start at the salad bar and the fun begins.
Honestly, I have no clue why they even mention the salad bar. Maybe they feel like they need to make sure that something green is on the plate at some point in the evening. Just as I sat down with a heaping pile of salads from around the world, we are bombarded by men with roasted meat on massive skewers. They descend on the table and go seat to seat asking if you'd like some of what they have.
Three different cuts of beef, lamb, chicken, beef ribs, pork ribs, ham, crocodile (yes, croc meat!), deep fried cheese (just in case heart disease HASN'T been acquired genetically for you) and fried bananas. There may have been other offerings, but I couldn't keep track because they were flying in and out so fast, before I knew it, I had a mound of protein, completely obscuring the salads originally filling the plate.
We're all trying to eat fast enough to keep up with the onslaught. I'm desperately excavating to the salads, I keep telling myself that if I can see the salad, I win. The sirloin steak guy comes around AGAIN, and I really liked it the first time, so "sure" let's have another serving...3 steps forward, 2 steps back. A moment later, eureka!!, I can see something green!!. But those damn pork ribs were outrageous! 2 steps forward, 3 STEPS back. The battle lines had been drawn and for the next 90 minutes, carnage and mayhem pushed the front line back and forth. It was a see-saw battle, sometimes I was winning, other times...the protein porters laughed as the left me with another huge pile of meat!
By the 2 hour point, most everyone at the table had flipped their card and had thrown in the towel. Belts were loosened, shirts became untucked and antacids flowed like the River Nile. It was down to two, David and me. The two smallest guys at the table engaged in vicious hand-to-hand combat. We sat across from one another and the taunting was merciless. Another serving of sirloin, I took some, and he was forced to keep up. The banana man came around, I knew I wanted some, but I could feel the last serving of steak fighting to get back to the light. Dave took two bananas, I needed to take two. The banana burps started. I forced the delicious deep fried fruit down and saw, the miracle happen: Dave flipped his card. He was done, the banana man had sent him over the edge! I only needed to survive one more serving and the day could be won. Thank goodness it was the steak man, he sliced a thin piece of medium rare steak onto my plate with the machete they strut around with. The juicy slice of heaven hit the stark white plate and I could hear the deafening echoes of the impact reverberate through the cacophony of the room. I stared at the steak, it stared at me. The man with the machete smiled cruelly as he sauntered away, throwing me a sideways glance as he turned and fled before I lost sphincter control. I picked up the knife and fork and prepared myself mentally for what must be done.
The pieces were small, and the effort herculean, and the breathing was deep, but the steak was assimilated and the card was flipped. Last man standing...or sitting, uncomfortably. My colleagues were polite enough to roll me to the van for the ride home.
Now, in retrospect, I am left with one lingering thought about the whole thing, why the hell don't we have one of these at home?
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