The foreign breeds experimentation... starting with the kitchen. I haven't been for a shop in a long while. This is due in equal parts to pay schedules, work schedules and repair schedules. When I got home tonight, I found that random objects, in various states, greeted me from my minifridge. The Sahelian Belt of Africa is where I learnt to cook, and also where I honed my disciminating eye. Overripe is not rotten; brown can be trimmed; dirt simply wants cleaning. This is especially true when all produce travels along international roads from Ethiopia and farther.
Tonight, I have crafted a borscht of sorts from cabbage long-gone buggy and limp, a French-brand berry juice that's simply not palatable, yellow onions, bell peppers, a handful of rice, and the "dash" of hot peppers that I received from a market mama. The dish turned out a bit like an inverted stirfry. Now, I won't mince words - but, try this yourselves at home! It was so good that Walan instantly jumped from the wastepaper basket - which I have donated to her as a kitty ferris wheel, where she spins all day like a long-tailed hamster. She pitched into a frenzy, and climbed the chair leg and the tablecloth to get inside my bowl.
But, I cannot share much of my meal. I am hungry and eating late tonight. My floormates and I recovered some suitcases and bags from the unoccupied rooms. We have been holed up in an apartment unzipping and opening packages for a hour. It was like Christmas in October! All manner of discarded American things: clothing, shoes, creams and books, scattered across the tables and floor. My colleague remarked, "I feel morbid, sifting through the stuff left behind by earlier volunteers." Her comment reminded me that, as Peace Corps volunteers, we'd called it "Dead Yovo" when we'd played this game in Benin. They must be dead, of course... who would ever think to throw such wonderful things away?!
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