Like a beacon in the night, I'm drawn to restaurants like this, and there seems to be little I can…read moredo about it. What kind of eatery opens next to a Boost mobile phone outlet, across the street from a Burmese grocer, a middle Eastern second-hand store, in an area of town that serves as a place you drive through to get somewhere, as opposed to being a destination?
This section of Independence Avenue is urban hardscrabble. Part run-down, shuttered and failed businesses mixing with the inevitable corner lot chain pharmacy with their bright lights a few doors down. A corporate behemoth on land purchased for little, that makes no pretense at fitting into the neighborhood, its profits streaming to some corporation outside the city. A salute to a population over-saturated with prescription drugs, the purpose of making the few wealthy. Got mesothelioma?
This, this is where the poor live, where immigrants gather and look to create some kind of community that reminds them of their common heritage. This business effort, I conclude, is little more than an honest Hail Mary.
Safari Cafe is not a pretty place. It's not a destination and won't be trending on Yelp. You won't meet with friends here over a meal, and my words will never be a Review Of The Day. It's not even meant to constitute a review, but ultimately may.
It's a large room, questionably lit, operated by Muslim women in headscarves, long flowing skirts, and men speaking native African tongues. Bare walls and floors, 4-5 tables in a space that could hold 30. Jarring. The menu is unfamiliar. I order goat with onions, savory rice, a small salad and a few sauces, one green which I hoped was pure fire, and did not disappoint. The goat was a bit chewy but flavorful, had clearly been sitting. Easily 5-6 times as much rice as there should have been. Savory, mixed with raisins, a few kernels that pretend to be seasoned with Saffron, but merely colored to appear that way.
I asked. The food is East African. For those not familiar, that might include Somalia, Ethiopia, Sudan. You have been watching the news, right? These are not Johnson County. Privately, I think to myself there's a good chance these people have endured a life most of us might not be able to imagine.
Several men are using the space as a place to pass time. They look depressed, likely unemployed. One is drifting off to sleep at an empty table with no food. Another in a wheelchair, same. One on a cell phone, but not appearing to be a customer, paces the floor while talking.
CNN blares away on a television suspended from the ceiling with video and news of the current president elect. It's a Twilight Zone.
I order, a woman brings my meal in a to-go container but hesitates, "you did want this to go?" "No, I'll eat here, this is fine," Upon leaving I give her a $20 bill for the $10 meal, ask for change for a tip. She smiles, but says nothing. I leave $2.
An hour later I will end up in a bland, predictable south Johnson County strip mall bar with friends to watch the KU vs. K-State game. On the way I have an extra 20 minutes to kill so took back streets through the Crossroads, down Southwest Blvd., Merriam Drive before jumping onto I-35, always on the hunt for a new Mexican dive I'll likely visit in the future.
I won't be dining here again, but the food was decent, and I'll take this experience any day over a Panera Bread, Jimmy Johns, McDonalds, Subway or other utterly bland and mind numbing alternative. Food can be an adventure, it can take you places, teach you things, and quickly move you outside your comfort zone, and maybe that's why I'm drawn to the unusual. I never know what the experience will be. On my visit here, yes, I got my money's worth. And then some.
