Maralal’s golden watering hole

Thursday, May 03, 2012 — updated on December 24, 2020 - 3 min read

Buffalo Bar was built on a foundation of supremacy, or oppression if you want. And many decades later, it still stands opposite a small market on the main Maralal Street and is arguably the busiest bar in Maralal Town. Photo/William Oeri

About 380 kilometres North of Nairobi is Maralal Town, the getaway to the arid and brutal northern Kenya. Some would also like to call it the Mecca for adventurers and nomads. I call it the Camel Town.

If, by some stroke of spontaneity you find yourself in Maralal town, on transit, and you crave to nip into a bar and have a beer, then Buffalo Bar should be your first choice.

You probably need to know that Buffalo Bar is the oldest bar in Maralal Town.

We are talking over 60 years old. It was built by the colonialist and was the hangout of the white folk; a Whites Only Bar.

Not much has changed over time. The roofing has been replaced of course (it was leaking) and now they have new branding that came with a fresh coat of paint. Inside is dark.

You might be disappointed that there aren’t any dated black and white pictures from a different era, or some souvenir from the colonial era standing at the corner.

Since it’s dark, when you walk in you have to sort of stand at the door for a moment for your eyes to adjust.

At the edge of the room is a bar counter and one of those “sina makosa” stools (the long stools). Wooden sofas mark the place, very uncomfortable, but nobody seemed to be complaining.

There is no music - at least there was no music when I was there. And everybody seems to be talking at the same time. Plus, almost everybody seems to be drinking beer, straight from the bottle.

There are clusters of patrons in shukas and in the failing light they look like warlords plotting the next take over. There are tables where men cut into roast meat that is prepared in the adjacent butchery.

There aren’t many young folk drinking in there. Majority are old looking folk who seem to spend so much time in the bar to while away the time and reminisce the old time.

Once in a while, a hawker will shuffle into the bar with merchandise. One shoved a shoe in my face and said, “Mia tatu” (Three hundred shillings). I shook my head.

He then showed me some tacky looking watches, Gucci, to be precise. I smiled politely and said, “No thanks”.

But he wasn’t done, so he handed me some socks and promised that they were of solid quality. I bought a pair for Sh200, but only because he was aggressive and I liked the way he cocked his hat. Made him look risqué.