Some like coffee strong and lively to the mind, marafiki. And some like the strong flavor of coffee, but not its liveliness. So, many generations ago, a young man in the village of Epesi sought to brew coffee that was both strong to the mouth and gentle to the mind. You see, the young man’s grandmother loved coffee. But she was in her later years, and its liveliness disturbed her. The young man toiled late nights trying to brew delicious coffee that was not too lively. The task was difficult. Sometimes the flavor was strong, but it was still too energetic. Other times, the liveliness was gone, but the flavor was weak and unsatisfying. Finally, after many years, he solved the problem. The result was a smooth, strong coffee – black as chui, strong as tembo, but without the liveliness his grandmother could not tolerate. “Gogo will be so pleased with me, for now she will be able to drink coffee again,” he said. (Gogo was what he called his grandmother). He ran from his hut to share his discovery. When he ran out, it was pitch dark. He had worked so long he knew not whether it was the dark of the morning or the dark of the night. Then, he heard a noise. It was the buzzing of Bungo, the beetle. ‘Ah,” he proclaimed, “It is the dark of early evening, for that is Bungo’s song. There is yet time for me to share this coffee with Gogo.” He ran to his grandmother’s hut with a steaming cup of the brew. Gogo tasted the black liquid (somewhat reluctantly, for it was late and she would soon sleep for the night). “Oh, it is delicious!” she said. “What do you call this special coffee?” The man thought for a moment and replied, “Bungo. For Bungo was the first creature to celebrate my discovery with his song!” And so we now call our decaffeinated coffee… yes, you guessed it, marafiki – Bungo!

Once upon a time, marafiki, in the village of Epesi where the young woman Espressa invented moto, there was, as you know, a man who understood much about buni, the bean from which delicious coffee is made. As you may remember from another story, he learned to pass steam through the ground up seed of buni and it made a coffee so strong, so powerful, that Espressa was able to run fast enough to catch the grass afire! Well, lo and behold, there were others in the tribe for whom espresso, the powerful coffee named after the young woman, was simply too strong. It made their hearts race like sungura, (the rabbit) and their hairs stood straight out! So the young man went about working with the coffee until he made some that wasn’t strong that way. He named the coffee Mvua after our word for rain, because the coffee put out the fire that burned inside people making their hair stand out. Nowadays, we call this coffee, yes you guessed it, rafiki, decaffeinated espresso, for it lacks that which made Espressa run so fast around and around the village when the grass caught fire. So if a friend of yours wants that full, powerful flavor of espresso without the part that makes us want to run like baridi (the wind), tell them about Mvua.

You all know Ngwenya, marafiki, for he is the one we watch like Senga when we swim in the river. He is stealthy and quick. One minute we can be swimming, and the next we are running from the sharp teeth and scaly skin of Ngwenya. Have you ever noticed how long and slender Ngwenya’s nose is, rafiki, and how snaggled his teeth are? It was not always so. No, for many passings of seasons, Ngwenya had a short square nose and his teeth fit his mouth perfectly. But, once upon a time, there was a grand emperor who lived by the large river in the north, where Ngwenya lived. Very wealthy was he, and had all of the finest things. This Emperor loved coffee more than anything else. He had searched the world over for wonderful coffees, and had created a blend of special beans from Rwanda, and Ethiopia and Tanzania. When brewed, this aromatic blend of fine coffee beans filled the land with the most marvelous smell. Ngwenya had never smelled anything so splendid. He felt powerfully drawn to the aroma, as if by magic. The first day he smelled it he crawled from the river, moving mesmerized toward the source of the scent. He didn’t notice the palace guards until they were upon him, beating him back into the river with sticks. The next day, he tried to do the same thing. Again he was beaten back with sticks. Finally, Ngwenya was forced to stay in the river and smell the wonderful coffee from afar, a cruel fate indeed for our friend Ngwenya, and one of the reasons he can be so vicious today! It is also the reason, in case you hadn’t guessed it marafiki, that his nose has grown to be so long. So, if you prepare the beans of the emperor, be aware of the magic of its aroma. Do not beat your friends back into the river, when they wander to your house, noses in the air!

Long ago, men did not know how to make moto, marafiki. When lightning struck and created moto, the people captured it with sticks and took it with them to cook and light their villages with. Whole villages worked hard to make sure their moto did not go out. And when it occasionally did, they often went for long times with cold food. Those were also the days that men were first becoming acquainted with buni. They would pick the brigh red berries and find the pale seeds inside. They learned to roast the pale seeds until they turned brown and glistened with oil. They learned to crush the roasted beans and drip water through the powder to make delicious coffee. One day, in a village not far from here called Epesi, a man was experimenting with the ground buni beans and discovered a way to let steam pass through the aromatic powder. The coffee that came from it was strong, black and frothy – so strong, in fact, none in the village were brave enough to drink it (for all knew the power of buni). Yes, rafiki, all were fearful but one. Espressa, the bright young daughter of the man who had made the strong brew, decided to try it. She sipped the strong, hot beverage gingerly. At once, she felt wonderfully energetic. She broke from the village on a dead run, feeling the joy of energy inside her. Round and round the village she ran, faster and faster in the tall grass that surrounded the village. So fast she ran, the grass began to heat up and, yes, you guessed it, moto appeared licking in the tall leaves. The villagers, in wonder, ran out and stopped Espressa from running. They were afraid the village would burn up! And so, mankind learned that friction of fast movement makes moto and they never had to wait for lightning again! Now, if you want to run fast enough to make moto, try a dark coffee drink called espresso, named to this day for the woman from Epesi.

Today, marafiki, I’ll tell you a story about the Black Mamba! Long, long ago, there was a young and restless Black Mamba, who ventured far away from his village in search of adventure. Starting off from his home village near what we now call Moyale he headed north and east. He crossed the Dawa, the Genale and the Shabele. He traveled for days, being careful to avoid the great feet of the elephant, ndovu, and the watchful eyes of the owls, the babewana. After many passings of the moon, he found himself on the outskirts of a man village. The Mamba didn’t like man-creatures. They were dangerous and unpredictable animals. So, for several days he stayed hidden away in the forest, peering into the village from the tops of the trees. The Mamba might have moved on had he not been attracted to a wonderful scent that emanated from the village. It was like nothing he had ever sensed – something exotic, warm and nutty with hints of blueberry. Finally, one morning, he could resist no longer, and slithered in close to one of the small huts that made up the man-village. He squeezed himself easily through the loose thatch and into the cool shade of the hut. Inside, the irresistible smell was strong and he was quickly able to find its source. There on a table sat a bowl of steaming black liquid. It was hot, but the Black Mamba couldn’t resist it. Gingerly, he took a sip of the strong brew. “OUCHHHHH” he screamed in mambese. And hurried from the hut his tongue burning and wishing he could somehow have some more of the tasty liquid. To this very day, the Black Mamba is always sticking out his tongue to cool the burn from the mouthwatering black liquid he tasted so many, many ages before. And what, marafiki, was the liquid that burned the tongue of the Black Mamba? Yes, you guessed it! It was a bowl of fine Ethiopian Harrar coffee. So, remember, when you brew your Ethiopian Harrar, always watch for the Black Mamba!

Do you know Senga, marafiki? She is the sharp-eyed one who soars high in the clouds calling weee-ee-ee-oh. She is fastest of the birds of prey and respected by all the small creatures. Even our mongoose friend, Karasa, sly though he is, watches the sky with anxious eye when he hears Senga’s song. But Senga was not always so fast and sharp as she is now. There was a time when she was slow and her eyesight was poor. She lived on grubs and only the slowest of small creatures. But, though physically small, Senga aspired to be a great bird of prey. She dreamt of it. She would practice flying faster and worked hard to make her eyes sharp. But still, she was but a half step too slow and could not see quite far enough. One day, while flying in the beautiful mountains of Uhabeshi, which some call Ethiopia, Senga came upon a beautiful valley shrouded in clouds. She soared down into the misty valley and came out of the clouds to find groves and groves of lush bushes, filled to the tips of their branches with bright red berries. Senga was hungry, but she was too tired to hunt for small prey. After much thought, she decided to try the bright red berries. After even one, she found herself suddenly quite alert! She ate a few more berries and felt like soaring through the sky. Once airborne, she found that she could see for miles – even the tiniest movements caught her sharp eyes. And she was suddenly much faster! She flew with great pleasure from the tops of the mountains down into the valleys. And to this day, she is fast of wing and sharp of eye. Now what, marafiki, do you think the beautiful red berries were? You guessed, didn’t you? Yes, they were the beans of the very excellent Ethiopia Misty Valley coffee, which helps all of us soar in the clouds and see our lives sharply.

Bundi, marafiki, is the night watchman of the bush. He is up all night with wide-open eyes and knows everything that goes on in the great village. But Bundi was not always so vigilant. In fact, long, long ago he used to be called mlalagi – sleepyhead. He slept all day and all night. Even kwao tumbo-machungwa, whose orange belly gets fat as he chatters all day, was critical of Bundi. Finally, all of the owl family – the babewana – got together. Something had to be done. They tried everything they could think of to get Bundi to be more energetic. They fed him bokoboko, which is sweet and full of energy and that didn’t work. They gave him madole (bananas) and mipapai (papaya) and madanzi (bitter orange), which is so sweet and so bitter it should even speed up kobe, the turtle. Nothing worked. Then one day a wise babewana from Ethiopia flew in. He told of red berries that have grown for ages high in the mountains around Yirga Ch’efe. Those, he said, would do the trick. So the other babewana made a journey into the mountains. Soon they returned, their beaks full of plump red berries. They fed Bundi the succulent berries and he ate all of them – even the little silver beans inside. To this day, bundi is the most alert of all the babewana. And you know why, marafiki? Because of the little red fruit. And what do you think the little red fruit is? Yes! You guessed it! It was Ethiopian Yirgacheffe coffee – some of the best in the great village! So, you know now that if you have a friend who cannot be alert you should give them Ethiopian Yirgacheffe and they can be as awake as Bundi!

You know Duma, marafiki? She is the fastest of the jungle. Such a blaze of speed she is, the herdbeasts like palahala know to respect her for even the swiftest cannot outrun her! Did you know, though, that Duma used to have no spots at all? It’s true! Long ago, Duma was the color of cream, a blaze of light in the bush. She has always run… all the time she runs sometimes just for the joy of it. Early one morning, Duma was running through the grasses of the plains, feeling the wind in her whiskers, the sun beating down on her rich creamy coat. It was such a beautiful morning, the sun just rising over the veldt like a great persimmon, and the mists rising like the ghosts of our ancestors. Through the high grasses she ran and the happiness she felt was immeasurable! Well, lo, there were men who, encamped in the veldt for the night, had just awakened in the morning chill and were preparing a modest breakfast of rusks and hot coffee. The coffee was a marvelous blend of beans they had brought with them from a place across the sea and beans they had gotten in Uhabeshi, which some people call Ethiopia. The aroma was rich and dark and carried across the plains. Meanwhile, Duma, running at great speed, was irresistibly drawn to the beautiful aroma. Eyes closed, she ran toward the mancamp. She came barreling in, eyes closed, nose in the air. The menfolk were just beginning to pour their coffee when this wild cat came tearing into their midst. Hot coffee went everywhere! The men screamed! Duma screamed! And fast she flew out of the camp, never to return. But she took with her a souvenir. What do you think it was? You guessed it, marafiki, the beautiful coffee-colored spots that make Duma so pleasing to see!

Of course, marafiki, everyone knows that not all Chui are spotted. Some are black as night. Have you ever wondered how that came to be? Well, I will tell you. Long, long ago all Chui were spotted. Then one day, an adventurous Chui made a long journey from his home near what we now call Nairobi. He was young and wanted to have adventures far away. North, he traveled, toward the great mountain in Kenya, walking many days. One morning, having traveled many miles without seeing water, he came upon a village of men. Men, he knew, had water, and, though he usually avoided man-creatures, he was terribly thirsty. The village seemed to be still asleep and so Chui explored a bit. He found the water-well of the man-village, but it was deep and he wasn’t sure how to get the water out. Chui explored some more. He came upon a hut. From inside came a delightful aroma – warm, nutty, toasty – different from anything he’d ever encountered. He peered in through the open door. Inside was a man holding a bowl of steaming liquid. At first he wanted to run from the man, but there was something different about him. Though Chui was in plain site the man’s eyes couldn’t find him. The man was blind. But, the man sensed Chui’s presence. He called out friendly words and set the bowl down. Chui tentatively crossed to the bowl and sipped of it. OUCH! The liquid was hot. But, goodness was it delicious! He drank every drop. Chui stayed with the blind man for many seasons and drank the hot, black liquid every day. By the time he left the man-village to continue his journey, his coat had turned a beautiful deep shade of black! What was the liquid Chui was drinking, you ask, marafiki? Why, nice, hot Kenya AA coffee of course! That’s also why Chui is always cooling his tongue when you see him!

Marafiki we all know Sokwe, for he is the fierce man-animal of the jungle, where he travels from treetop to treetop with grace and ease. Large is he, and black as hot coffee, and his great grunts and roars are a constant reminder of his power and energy! And, oh how he beats his chest, rafiki! He feels powerful – ready to challenge his day. But, he wasn’t always this way. There was a time when Sokwe traveled the jungle floor with his head down, not feeling even powerful enough to swing from a single tree. He was so timid, even Siafu the ant feared him not. And his grunts and growls were like whispers in the trees – so low that even the smallest of creatures laughed at poor Sokwe and called him furbelly and scrubknuckle. Then one day, while wandering in the great mountains of Rwanda, Sokwe found himself tired. He hae wandered far and could find none of his favorite things to eat. “Woe is me, “ thought he. “Perhaps I shall starve on this high jungle mountain.” He laid himself down under the shade of a mighty bush to rest. Sokwe, in those days, rested often. He had almost fallen asleep when suddenly something landed in his mouth! Instinctively he ate it. His eyes shot open. What was this thing he had eaten? He looked around but could see no one. All there was to be seen was the bush under which he had rested – a bush covered with a blaze of red berries, ripe to bursting. Cautiously, he picked another red berry and chewed it in his great gaping mouth. Again, his eyes shot open and he felt greatly invigorated! He roared a magnificent roar that all the jungle could hear and beat his chest like a great drum! What could this berry be, rafiki? Have you already guessed? Why, of course, it’s the wonderful mountain coffee of Rwanda, a coffee that lifts the spirits and makes us pound our chests when we face our day!

Tembo has always been the great helpful leader of the jungle, marafiki. When trees fall, he is there to lift them. When rocks slide, he is there to push them. His lumbering gait, though slow, is powerful, and gives him full command of his land – steep or flat, wet or dry. When he trumpets, his power rings in the hills and valleys! Tembo is respected by all the people of the jungle. So respected is he that everyone in the jungle brings him gifts. Siafu, the ant, comes in great teams and brings him fruit. Bundi, the owl flies to him at night and watches over where he sleeps, keeping bugs away. Even mamba keeps the mice away from his place. For many years, Tembo refused to work with men. Men did not know how to show their respect for his power; they did not know what gifts were appropriate. One day, a safari had become trapped deep in the dark jungle. Men and beasts were trapped in the great wet place in the center of the forest. One man-child was able to escape the mire and sought out Tembo. “Please help us, Tembo, we are trapped in the jungle.” Tembo felt sorry for the man-child and agreed to help. Using his great strength and his trunk he was able to pull the men and beasts from the great wet place. The men were so grateful they rewarded Tembo with their most highly prized possession – bags of shiny black seeds that smelled so wonderful, tasted so rich, and made Tembo feel so alert and alive that from that point onward he was more than willing to help men in their works. And what do you think those black seeds were? The were a very special blend of three delicious coffees enjoyed at the Safari House, marafiki – a mixture so rich and even that to this day it is the only blend of coffees enjoyed by safaris that venture deep into the dark jungle where the great wet place is.

You know the Driver Ant, my marafiki? Siafu, we call him. He and his family are forever marching. They travel through the bush like a great black river eating all that comes before them. Well, siafu was not always so energetic. Long, long ago, Siafu was the quietest of ants, and made his small villages and kept to the traditional practice of ants – sending only a few travelers out for food, the rest remaining home. But, one day, one of the travelers brought back something very special – a great, red berry! Having traveled far, so very far, this little ant had found this beautiful berry high in the Kipengere Mountains of Tanzania. The others could not believe he had traveled so far carrying this magnificent berry and they told him so. But he explained to them that he ate little bites of the berry along the way and it had given him tremendous energy for the journey. Tentatively, each of the ants tasted of the berry and they found themselves overcome with energy and happiness! In the middle of the berry, they found a great seed and ate even it, discovering it to be even better and more invigorating than the sweet flesh of the berry! Well after that, nothing would do but that they all set out for this magic place to gather more berries. The entire colony set foot and to this day, Siafu marches, always searching for this special berry. What is the berry, you ask me, marafiki? Why it is coffee, of course, the wonderful Peabody coffee of Tanzania. So, marafiki, when you want the energy of Siafu, that is what you have – a delightful steaming cup of Tanzanian Peabody coffee.