Chef Mary...?

Well, life is moving along here, as usual, as it is everywhere else.  By they day I am trying new cooking recipes.    Gosh, if I had known how easy and fun cooking was I would have started years ago!

Wednesday is my usual market day.  Yes yes, the one I love to hate sometimes.  Peter was a trooper and came with me, on chain of course.  I still get a kick out of how people ask me “galu?!”  Of course he’s a dog, come on!  At times I think Peter is more well known in my village than myself.  “Peta, peta!” I hear from adults and children alike when we trek through town.  I laugh inside at the dogs and goats that try to pick fights with Peter because, little do they know, give him a few months and he’ll tower over them.  

At any rate, market day...market day.  It’s great when people come from surrounding villages to sell food goods I don’t see on a regular basis.  Biringanya (eggplant) I can only find in the boma (bigger town) and kabichi (cabbage) is a rarety.  It’s funny, though, because before coming to Malawi I had NEVER cooked with either of these food items.  Talk about new things and what I’ve been missing out on!

As we get closer to town I veer to the left after crossing the train tracks towards the produce area.  I was engulfed in a sea of red tomatoes.  You’d imagine people thinking “well, there are so many tomatoes for sale, what else can I grow?” but it’s an easy crop and people take well to it.  I sift through people asking me to come to their little square to buy tomatoes.  On a mission today for eggplant!  A pleasant surprise, as I purchase 4 lovely purple and green biringanya’s for 20 kwacha (a steal!).  I remember back in the states a few weeks before I left for Malawi, I bought some eggplant with the intention of trying something with them.  To be honest, I think they were thrown out never having been used.  Contrary, here they are a rare commodity and can be enjoyed in so many ways!

One way I have witnessed cooked eggplant thus far is doing a curry.  Oh, so delicious!!  Cubed eggplant, tomatoes, onions, curry spice, dash garlic (I’m finding I use it in a lot of dishes!), salt/peper, oil...mmmmmm goodness.  Put over rice or with potatoes and you have yourself a delicious meal!  Don’t forget the protein of course...hardboiled eggs sliced on top.  Yum!

Anyways, next I eyed the kabichi, woohoo!!  At Justine’s house over the weekend we put some oil and balsamic vinegar over the sliced cabbage...so I had the brilliant idea of making tuna salad.  You wouldn’t think salad is such a big deal to make, but again that no refrigerator thing puts a little damper on such meal ideas.  I approach a young man, early 20s I would say, and ask him how much the cabbage for sale.  “Uh ahhh” I say (which if you spend any time in Malawi you will learn that there is a difference in “uh ahhh” = negative, and ohhooo = positive).  He quotes 50 kwacha and I feel that is too much, hence the “uh ahhh!” so he directs me to the 40 kwacha cabbages.  Perfect!  I could see the salad taking form before my eyes!

Picked up a bunch of 16 bananas, which I snack on throughout the day and also enjoy with peanut butter for breakfast.  Before your eyes go all googly when I say 16 bananas, they’re only about half the size of what you’d find in the states.  No potassium overdose here :-P  “Ku nyumba!” I tell people when they ask where I’m going.  Home, of course!  To make my salad!

I wash the cabbage in my cleaned and filtered water. I'm hasty but careful with my thin slices of cabbage because my mouth is watering simply at the prospect of salad.  Into the biggest container I could find (being my pot with no handles I cook with) I threw in the sliced greens.  As I opened the tuna packet sent by my mother, my senses come alive and I can't wait to get the oil and balsamic vinegar on top.  Dash of salt and pepper...mmmm!!!

Tuna salad is something that will always remind me of mom.  Thus, as I sat on my front veranda with book in hand (“Attonement”) I wanted so much to call her and tell her of my creation.  Peter looked up at me but I assure him it's not something he will enjoy, and take my first bite.  Nostalgia hit me when I flashed back to enjoying salad with mom and family friends, Dan and Cyan, simply days before heading to Philadelphia before coming to Africa.  Those flashbacks are a joy :)

I managed to down half of the cabbage (glad I only bought the 40 kwacha one!) and lazily chopped up the rest and put into my thermo containers, hoping it would still be good to cook with in the morning...

...18 hours later I checked it and it was good to go!  Looks like cabbage has it’s own internal fridge!  I searched through my Peace Corps cook book for anything to do with cabbage.  Another thing I’ve never cooked in my life is stir fry.  Ok, I have, but it came in a frozen package and all I had to do was add it to a wok in the order instructed and - voilà! - I’d magically made stir fry!  But today I decided that I was really going to give it a shot.

Chopped up an onion I bought behind the tuk shops on my morning walk to town, and some oil to fry.  Sat down on my kitchen stool and sautéd them for a few minutes while trying not to burn the onions on the one-temperature-fits-all mboula.  Recipe called for fresh garlic and ginger...neither of which I had.  Side note: as I’ve mentioned, I’m a baker, and not a cook.  The idea of following a recipe to the T soothes my soul very nicely.  However in this circumstance that was not an option.  Ooohh, watch out!  Mary’s breaking out of her shell!  So, yes, I improvised (gasp!) with garlic and ginger powder, adding what I thought might be an appropriate amount (gasp!).

Threw in the cabbage and stirred quickly with my wooden bamboo spoon, realizing again I had no idea what I was doing.  When it “looked good” I added the soy sauce mixture, as laid out by the recipe.  Mix, stir, taste, mix, add some garlic, mix, definitely need some salt and pepper...  Of course taste tests are a necessity when being a chef ;)  Delicious!

Before it burned (yes, this is always a top avoidance while cooking for me) I picked the pot off the fire and placed in on the concrete floor in my house.  It’s been quite windy here lately and thus I’ve found it enjoyable to cook just inside my front.  I’m toughening up my hands, wanting to become more and more Malawian by the day being able to take pots off the fire.  Sometimes the pot is hotter than I imagined but that’s just part of the fun.  Surprise!  Hot potato!  I carry it to the door-turned-table in my back room and set it next to the rice I cooked just before.  My mouth was watering.

With a scoop of rice and a pile of cabbage, I look at my creation and impressed myself with what I had actually made.  I wish I had company for lunch, as I was only able to shock myself!.  Goodness!  I’m a cook.  Not quite a chef, but maybe I’ll get there.  It sure is awesomely amazing the delicious food one can muster up with such simple ingredients.  What my pallet has been missing out on!

As far as the eggplant goes, it’s still sitting on the counter waiting for creation in the next few days.  What’ll it be?  Eggplant fitters?  Eggplant Parmisiano (powdered Parmesan cheese would help)?  Curry eggplant?  Who knows, only the chef will decide. 

Tuna cabbage salad!

Stir Fried Cabbage creation with scrambled eggs :)

Request suggestions :)

Per suggestion of my mother, I have decided to write a blog on what I requests I may have for packages.  Please do not take this as an expectation that all of you will be sending me weekly packages, that’s merely a day dream.  At any rate, she has a good point.  I loooove chocolate but it's not usually around very long :p

On a serious note, though, thank you to all of you who have sent packages or who might be sending one.  You cannot imagine the joy that it brings us PCVs when we receive goodies from home.  And the great thing is that we often benefit from other peoples packages when gathering for small get-togethers.  It can totally brighten up a week that's been extremely challenging.

As I sit down to write this my mind goes blank thinking of all the variety of foods back in the grocery stores.  So if you find other goodies not listed here that you think would aid in my cooking, I would enjoy them just as much if not more.  Items that only need to “add water” are great, as I don’t usually have a variety of ingredients to contribute.  Even those cookie/brownie pre-made packages are awesome when we have a chance to bake.  It’s a joy to pretend like we’re in America every once in a while :)

Tuna packets - Chicken of the Sea, Albacore Creations (in water is my favorite!) these are great because a variety of protein is hard to come by.  I can get soya pieces, eggs, and beans...hum...

Protein bars - Cliff bars (Peanut Butter Crunch are delicious), Luna bars are my favorite.  Any variety will be consumed for sure! :)

Oatmeal - I love Quaker Oats Maple and Brown Sugar flavor.  Also, Cream of Wheat is awesome too :)

AAA Batteries - these are the equivalent of toilet paper in prison.  I’m not relating the two environments by any means (ha!) but simply that I cannot buy worthwhile AAA batteries in country.  I use them for flashlights and my headlamp when the sun goes down, which are very useful in avoiding the unwanted discovery of a snake in my backyard or spiders in my bed.

Moleskin Notebook - I journal a lot.  I’ve already gone through one and about ⅓ the way through my second one since coming to country.  These type of journals are fantastic because they travel well (unless you put them underneath your airplane seat and proceed to press the controls as though it’s a ride at Disney World...then you get an accordioned notebook) and cannot be found in country.  The ones with the orange wrapping “Ruled Notebook”; 240 lined pages, 13x21cm are my prefered :)

Beef Jerky - it’s delicious and a good source of protein!

Mayo, Ketchup, Mustard, etc. packets - “Ketchup” here is simply some sort of tomato sauce.  I have yet to see mustard.  Mayo is not mayo...I’m not sure what it is, to be honest.  So grab some extras at McDonald’s while you’re enjoying a #2 with a vanilla milkshake for me! I’d be much obliged, and more able to make egg and tuna salad sandwiches!  Wendy’s is a good spot too...enjoy the fries and a chocolate milkshake there for me.  Any other condiments packet would be appreciated.

Seeds - I would very much enjoy starting my own “kitchen garden.”  Seeds such as tomatoes can be found in country but I’d like to grow other things as well.  Some ideas: cantaloupe, squash, strawberry/raspberry/blackberry (getting a hedge going would be awesome!) and any others that look fun.  The catch is making sure they are heirloom seeds, as some people have said they have had trouble growing the hybrids out here.

Cupcakes - as funny as this one may seem to some of you, I am serious!!  Anyone who can find a way to ship a cupcake - heck while you’re at it make it a dozen! - will receive a very special and worthwhile Malawian gift upon my return to the US of A.  If no way can be figured out, then cupcake/cake mixes will take second place ;)  I love the funfetti mix :)  Also the quick packages where you just add water and egg are easily doable here.  Ooo, and they are fun to make for people’s birthdays!  Yes, you can bake on a charcoal fire...I dare you to come and see for yourself.

Cheese powder - remember having mac and cheese as a kid?!  Well, I want some too! :)  No fridge=no cheese on hand, thus powdered cheese is a great alternative.  This is simply the cheese packets you find in Kraft Mac and Cheese boxes...but I’ve also been told that you can buy it in bulk?  Hum….. :)  Velvetta cheese is delicious as well!

Soup mix - of any kind, this is always awesome!  Just-add-water is perfect.

Emergen-C - this is a powder mix you can add to water for a “boost to your immune!”  It’s nice to feel like I’m kind of doing something when I feel a sore throat coming on.

Spices - whatever you think is good to use in cooking, it will be used!!

I’ll try to add more as I can think of things.  It’s hard when a variety of goods is so absent from your everyday mind to then try and come up with ideas for you all.  Please please don’t feel like you can only send these things.  They are just ideas to maybe help along the way.  Anything and everything is so so much appreciated and honestly can turn around an entire week if it’s been a challenging one.  It's fun to open packages when you have NO idea what to expect.  Definitely like Christmas!

I may say this too much, but it is entirely true, the support I receive from all of you makes it possible for me to keep going some days out here.  It can be tough, but knowing you all are rooting for me gives me that needed push.  Thank you :)  Letters are equally as exciting as packages so, again, please don't feel like you need to send something extravagant.  Thank you for your support!!

Brazil v. North Korea

The most exciting game I’ve seen in the mud brick, tin roof, wood door, dirt floor shack has been Brazil vs. North Korea.  I’m always excited to watch Brazil because, well, they’ve attended every World Cup since it started in 1930 and lets be honest, who doesn’t want to watch one of the top ranked teams?!

Blessing my neighbor (she’s awesome, and totally into soccer) and I head to town thinking the game was at 7.30.  Nope, 8.30, my bad.  I was just following the daily time schedule posted on the side of the shack, written on braille paper.  Fear not, for any shop with a TV will always have Malawian music (which I love!) accompanied by really funky music videos with people shakin’ what mama gave ‘em.  The other alternative are kung fu movies.  Kung fu it is!  This video was appropriately in the spirit of the World Cup, as it was kung fu football.  I’m not quite sure who came up with this “brilliant” idea, but everyone goes crazy for it.

As the doors shut to the shack I begin sweating.  It’s just what you do here, and no one seems to be bothered.  Funny, because in America I would surely be asking to open and window or door.  At any rate, for about an hour I sat there laughing at these Matrix-move blocks combined with tornado-forced goals and wild explosions with the goalies jersey being blown off.  I haven’t the slightest idea who comes up with this stuff but it does, indeed, exist.  People in the room cheer and holler at the impossible moves and I just can't quit laughing!

I am relieved as the teams national anthems are played and it nears the start of the match.  At 8.30 (which is definitely past my bed time...but who cares, this is THE World Cup!), the fans in the room start going wild.  Seriously, I thought the excitement at the Ghana game was big...no way!!  A young man walks in with a Brazil jersey and everyone in the room starts cheering.

During the entire match I feel like I'm at the game, in Johannesburg, South Africa.  Sometimes it is so loud that I can't hear the announcers!  I join in the excitement as Brazil scores its first goal...and then second goal.  I slap hands with Malawians around me and laugh as children jump up off the wood bench to do the same.  Gosh, what a game!  And I’ll admit I cheered for North Korea when they scored their one goal against Brazil.  Sometimes I'm pulling for the underdog ;)

Gosh, what an awesome exciting game!  Blessings and I file out with everyone else and chat about the game in broken English and Chichewa.  Ahhh, so exciting!  Some men walk with us since I brought my flashlight.  It’s always a pleasure to see the pot hole before you step in it.  They are chatting in Chichewa and I revel in the fact that I can understand half of what their saying...just trying to get to the point where I can join in quick conversation.

I unlock my door and I'm greeted by my bouncing baby, thrilled that I've returned.  After brushing my teeth under the stars while standing with Peter (urging him to pee one last time before he’s locked in the house for the night) I fall into bed around 11pm.  Way way past my bed time!  Doors locked, Peter getting settled in his cardboard box-bed, and my mosquito net tucked in, I roll myself tight under my blanket to shelter from the chilly night as I drift off to sleep.  Doesn’t get much better than this :)

My soccer buddy!

It's that time of the year...

For WORLD CUP!  Yes yes, I am like a child who has discovered ice cream and sprinkles after 4 years of absence.  I mean, you can have a bowl of ice cream with rainbow sprinkles any time, but they never taste as good as they do when it’s the World Cup!  I played soccer for at least 12 years growing up and it’s in my blood.  It’s the only sport I can watch on TV, besides college football, and be totally engrossed in.  Yes, I’m like a man on football sundays…don’t talk to me until after the game is over!  No pee breaks either.

I wager to say I may be the luckiest PCV in Malawi right now, being that I can watch any or all of the World Cup games, even at their schedule times.  Funny to think only a few weeks ago I was nervous about not being able to see any matches.  Quite frankly, I didn’t know if anyone in the village had electricity or a TV/satellite set up to catch the games!  Ha, how silly of me to put it past a soccer loving continent of the world.  

I found through the grapevine that games could be watched at abambo Chamama’s, normally used to show infamous kungfu movies.  So I decided to head to town to watch my first FIFA 2010 World Cup game, Ghana vs. Serbia.  Locking Peter in the house, I threw my chitenje bag around my back and off I marched to town.  I walk faster than most people in the village but still get stopped to ask where I’m going.  I felt pressed for time so in passing I sputtered out, “Zikomo, zikomo!  Ndikupita ku msika, Ndikufuna kuona mpira!”  (“Thanks, thanks! I am going to the market.  I am wanting to watch football!”)

I pass by the lovely fabric shop where I stopped in a few days ago to buy a few meters of chitenje fabric to begin a quilt.  People were gathered around the structure blasting the game and my heart began to race.  Being the only white person in the village I get stared at a lot...but this time even more stares, being that I was walking towards a building I’d never been in before.  A man asks me in Chichewa if I wanted to watch the game.  I laugh and shake my head yes.  “Pitani” (“you should go”) he says and I proceed into the unknowing black hole.

I see all eyes turn to me even though I try my best to not attract attention.  Ha, right...nice try.  My efforts are lost as the owner ushers me to a wooden bench that is the first row, with Iwe’s (children) sitting there.  I feel somehow like I was at the kids table at a wedding, awkwardly out of place but without much of a choice.  Yeah, so much for sliding under the radar.  I sit down and slouch, assuming I’m blocking someone’s view behind me.  All of the sudden I feel a tap on my back and it’s my neighbor, Blessings, and I’m so relieved to see her.  A sigh of relief that I know someone in this dark room!

I settle in as best I can on a hard bench, and peer up at the TV screen.  For a moment I can’t figure out if I’m more excited to see the World Cup or to be watching a television.  I can’t remember how long it had been.  Anyways, being in Africa causes most of the Malawians in the room to root for Ghana.  I’ll be honest and say I don't care who wins, I'm just thrilled to be watching it!  The owner collects 10 kwacha from me for viewing (since I showed up half way through the game...was busy working my quilt).

A note to those of you at home who are watching the games and see the African fans all dressed up, colorful, and happy.  Of course the fans are thrilled to be there, but I will tell you from my experience thus far in Malawi, the energy of those fans is embodied in all Africans.  They are such a happy people, always with smiles on their faces and harmony in their voices.  When easily reminded of this, I smile to know that I’m so lucky to be able to have this experience, with PC in general, but most importantly with such fantastic people and during an exciting World Cup time.

While I shifted in my seat every few minutes, I sneak peeks at the Malawians sitting around me.  For a minute I take all of this in.  Here I am, in Bwanje, Malawi, watching the World Cup in a hand built, mud brick, wood door, tin roof shack on a 16” screen, and I couldn’t be happier.  I couldn’t help but think of the movie Cool Runnings when the Jamaicans are watching their beloved bobsled team compete at the 1988 Winter Olympics. There is no place in the world I’d rather be, honestly, because who can say they’ve watched the game like I have?

I’m thankful for the english announcers, as I can more readily follow the game and the players.  I forget, though, that most people in the room probably can’t follow the announcers speed and for that time I feel like an outsider.  Language is one thing that separates me, obviously.  I laugh at little things the announcers say and people turn to see what I find so funny.  I continue looking at the screen pretending not to notice :p

Ghana scores and the room goes wild!  In the dark I peer around and witness the adults and children cheering loudly in excitement that their favored team has scored!  The elation in the room matches the Africans shown on the television screen in actual attendance.  I smile widely and sink on the wood bench like a child being bashful of everyone singing “Happy Birthday!” and for lack of a better description I think “How cool that I’m here!” :) 

At the conclusion of the game, when it is obvious that Ghana has won, the owner opens the wood doors and the crowd floods out.  I stick around for a few minutes to listen to the post game chatter and then lift my sore rump off the wood bench and find my way outside into the dark.  It’s about 6pm and the sun has set, the moon and stars have come out and I soak it all in with a huge grin on my face.  My 5 minute walk to my house is filled with excitement and quiet elation of being able to watch my beloved sport in such a worldwide watched tournament.   Can't wait for the next game!

First square of the quilt I'm making

Photos (no particular order)

Yeah, can't beat that, can ya?!  Mozambique out there

My homestay family (Amayi, Thandi, Esau, Abambo)

Chickens in the trees at my homestay...I'd NEVER seen that before!  A lot of "firsts" here

Yep, not The Onion...this is for real

The kids in Chikanda doing Kung Fu moves (check out "This, my friends, is a day in Malawi" blog for related visual)

Cupcake Days

Today was a day deemed worthy a self-proclaimed “Cupcake Day.” Let me explain. Back in the States my secret vice was sweets (it still would be if I had the access, I’m sure). I could mix up a good batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies and eat a ¼ of the dough before the oven was even warm...same goes for brownies. However, I never kept all the ingredients around my house on a regular basis for this exact reason: I had to plan to bake. Therefore when a burning desire for cupcakes or cookies was lit, I hopped in my car and drove to the nearest bakery. After my purchase I promptly ate the delicious sweets before arriving home (destroying the evidence, of course) :) Yes, my secret is out! (p.s. my favorite cupcakes are vanilla cake and frosting with those round sprinkles...yum! If you can overnight some, you’ll win a prize).


At any rate, it’s hard to keep focused sometimes when thinking of delicious foods not found in Bwanje, or Lilongwe for that matter. Okay, so Cupcake Days are when I’ve had a rough day due to any number of factors, or feeling particularly bummed out. During training, we were “warned” that there are times (read: times, because it wont stop at one, I’m sure) where we may get upset for what seemed justified at the time but later seemed absolutely ridiculous. Today was one of those days, the kind that comes out of nowhere and you’re wondering “how did I become that upset.”

Today was a market day for Bwanje, meaning that dozens of vendors come and line the road with goods such as food, vegetables, blankets, pots, clothing, and more. I left Peter at home because he’d be stopping to eat everything from his beloved cow pies to half eaten who-knows-what on the ground and I was on a mission to pick up a few things. I enjoy market days because there is so much going on, bustling of people, and so many things being sold. I dislike market days for the same reasons, sometimes.

So I was in need of buying a 20 liter bucket (I’m making a bigger water filter contraption-thing and ruined one due to poor planning). I found a vendor and told him what I wanted and he offered me a price of 450 kwacha, of which I felt was much too high. I offered 350 kwacha. Then he offered 400 kwacha. Let’s just say he wasn’t having it, and he was far too serious as well (I figure if I can make someone laugh while I’m bartering a price, then all is well). I knew in other areas I could get it for cheaper which is why I stuck to my guns. We discussed for a few minutes and it wasn’t going anywhere. Then he asks me “What is the difference of 50 kwacha?” I felt immediately offended. 50 kwacha? 50 kwacha buys me two eggs, my protein for a day, or a bag of soya which lasts me 3 meals. I thought “Yes, sir, that is a big deal for me.”

Okay, in the big scheme of things the money is probably not that big of a deal. However, I felt like he was pointing this out because I’m white (it is widely assumed in Malawi if you are white then you have a lot of money), but I am by no means saying this was his point, however I felt angry about it at the time. I explained that I live in the village and do not make a lot of money (which is about $5 a day, give or take) and that the money was important to me. I do my best to make cost effective purchases so I can stretch my kwacha and buy what I need. I walked away before getting into a useless argument I could see brewing.

I couldn't believe how upset I felt, and I still had more shopping to do. As I was walking to the usipa stands to buy fish for Peter, a man whom I’d met once before came up to me and began conversation. I’m sorry, not today I thought. He tried to sell me items from his business that I was not interested in, and then proceeded to follow me and try to tell me what I wanted to buy. These are times I wish I was not the only obvious white person in the village. These times I would sometimes like to be rude but I’m “working” 24/7 and must always be kind to people or I may get a negative reputation. Multiple times (10, at least) I did my pleasant-est to tell him no thank you and that I was busy shopping. Finally, after many attempts he finally left and I quickly finished up my shopping. (I was excited to find fresh bread [scones] and a carrot to purchase, which are rarities in the village).

Had I been able to find cupcakes with fluffy vanilla frosting (maybe sprinkles on the inside too), I would have been able to temporarily drown my sorrows. There are some days in Malawi I do not feel like being the center of attention. There is no hiding when I am out of my house. I can’t simply put on my favorite green hat and a baggy pair of jeans and t-shirt to go to the store. Regardless of my mood I’m always expected (maybe by myself?) to be “on the ball” and ready to go. It gets tiring, for anyone.

I haven’t written this blog to complain about my day (already did that in my journal ;)), but more so to convey some of the real life of living here. It can be tough getting used to a place, people, a lifestyle that is completely new to you. Imagine a reverse situation of someone from village life being thrown into the big city? It can be scary, exciting, frustrating, rewarding, and the like. Emotions here are a pendulum and sometimes a person has no idea what to expect. And little things, like the man asking about the 50 kwacha, can set me off when in any other situation it wouldn’t faze me.

So as I sit in my house after the sun has set, with a plate of freshly shelled peanuts to my left and to my right a Jameson bottle serving as a candle holder with dripping wax down the side (too bad the bottle was empty when I moved in, ha!), I revel in the fact that tomorrow is a different day, a new day. There are more peanuts to be shelled, curtains to be sewn, and I’m sure lots of pee from Peter to clean up. The beauty of crummy days is that it can only get better from here :)

What they say is true...

There is nothing like a home cooked meal. Without stating the obvious, that’s not exactly possible out here in Bwanje, Malawi. So what to do on those days where you don’t want rice with ndiwo (“relish” or side dish) or soya pieces with noodles? Today was one of those days where even having peanut butter on bread with banana’s for breakfast didn’t hit the spot. What to do…

My 11am “time to get ready to cook lunch” internal timer went off and I ignored it. It helped that I was busy hand sewing some new curtains for one of the windows in my living room. (P.S. I had the awful rat infested couch removed yesterday, so it seems a little empty in here but the vacant space simply awaits my new table and chairs that should be finished this week). After hanging my new curtains and meeting and chatting with my neighbors’ family, I decided it was time to do something about feeding my grumbling belly. But just anything would not suffice today.

Peter (my new doberman-mix puppy) is always up for a walk. So with my chitenje bag over my shoulder and dusty flip flops on my feet, I locked the door to my mud hut and off we went on the 8 minute walk to the tuk shops. Simple scrambled eggs and toast (read: bread, because I obviously do not have a toaster nor an outlet to plug it into) was my mission.

I pass by adults walking or riding bikes, and children staring at me and my fluff-ball in tow or entertaining themselves with imaginary games. I greet as many people as possible with a simple smile on my face while looking around to ensure Peter has not wandered too far behind sniffing and eating cow pies (yep, I have a poop eater on my hands).

As I pass by the carpenters’ house I turn to see if there has been any visible progress on my table and chairs but it nothing is obvious. More children yell out “bo! Jennifer!” the PCV whom I replaced. I say “zabo!” back and, for what seems like the hundredth time, tell them my name is Mary (or here pronounced “Melly”). We pass by two dogs that are not fond of Peter and fortunately sleeping at this point. Further, there is a nice young man at a tobacco scale who, without fail, greets me every time I pass on foot or my njinga (bike), helping to make me feel like people here enjoy my presence.

About half way from the tobacco scale and the railroad tracks I see the woman who has become fond of me and we do our best to chat when I pass by. She, along with everyone else, thinks it is funny I have a dog that follows me AND has a name. Anything else to make me look more like an alien, I suppose! To the right of her house we pass the sewing shop that houses the rolls and rolls of glorious fabric I only wish I was rich enough to snatch up. I turn back and Peter is, you guessed it, eating poop. I whistle a few times and grab his attention and he comes bounding up to my feet, looking awkward in that stage between puppy and canine toddler. We walk over the railroad tracks, which are used once a week for their intended purpose by a train from somewhere north, Salima maybe, going south towards Blantyre. I think of the movie “Into the Wild” where Alexander Supertramp throws himself and belongings on to a moving train unsure of where it is going. That would be a trip…

The tuck shops are in view now, and I chuckle as we walk by children intrigued by Peter but too scared to come too close. Children are told that if they are bitten by a dog they will get rabies and die. I’m content with that as their gentleness towards animals in general does not readily exist, I’d like to keep my Peter a friendly dog.

We head straight to the usipa (dried fish) stands because my stash is gone and this growing pup needs to eat! I step up the discombobulated bricks and a sea of piled fish on both sides awaits my choice. Really, I could care less what kind of usipa I buy for Peter. Those are the times I wish he could speak to tell me if he likes the big fish (half of my palm) or the small fish (finger size) but I take the initiative and buy two piles at 50 kwacha a piece from two vendors. I’m still doing my best to work my way into the community therefore not always buying everything from one vendor. (However, shhhh, this does not always hold true because there is one tuk shop owner I enjoy very much whom I buy eggs and bread from :)).

Men and women under covered wooden structures sell beans, tomatoes, onions, bananas, baobob fruit, peanuts, oranges (although green and look like limes), lettuce, and the occasional green peas. I haven’t had peanuts in some time, and I decide those are a fine idea today. “Ndalama zingati?” (money how much? direct translation) is 20 kwacha and it sounds a little expensive for the amount I’m getting but they look delicious. Bagged and in with the usipa, I head to my favorite tuk shop man.

Kids stare in wonder along with adults as I ask for three madzira (eggs) and half a loaf of buledi (bread). I’d been thinking for a few days of buying a package of cookies, and today I couldn’t resist. Sure, sure, add it to the bill. 225 kwacha is the total, and I’m all finished with this shop. A last minute decision for an anyezi (onion) to throw in the mix of scrambled eggs from an older woman, always pleasant and with a big smile, makes my shopping trip officially complete.

With my inherited “spoiled” “love” “princess” bag (yes, my brothers are sure to say this would have fit me perfectly in my younger years) full of goodies, I’m hungry for the first time in a while to cook some food. I pick up Peter because he’s dragging behind and I’m anxious to get going. I stop briefly in the fabric shop to see if it is possible to buy scraps left over from completed garments to begin a personal quilting project, but my explanation in Chich-English does not translate so I leave and keep the idea for another day.

I let Peter down as we leave the shop and he bounds ahead to try and beat me to the next cow pie, as if we’re in some sort of competition. Two donkeys grazing after some hard work throw Peter for a loop as he is befuddled and does not know what to make of the new creatures. Next we encounter some goats that look like they’re going to charge the bouncing black and tan fuzz ball. I never I imagined I might have to defend my dog from an animal other than his own kind. Therefore it still holds true...you never know what to expect in Africa!

On our way home we pass by two of the young girls who come to my house to color with me during the week. They greet the two of us with big smiles and hop on the one-size-fits-all bikes to follow down the road. I’m in my own bubble and thrilled :) so excited for this meal I am about to prepare. I’m thrilled because I know what it will taste like, it won’t be a surprise. Some days the unknown meals can be fun and exciting, but I’m yearning familiar today.

It’s a “cold” day here (I would wager to say about 70F) and it’s beginning to drizzle as I begin to light my mbaula to cook. Let’s just cut to the chase… All cooked and still steaming, I pile the three scrambled eggs (salt, pepper, paprika) with sautéed onions onto a plate and spread “butter” (uhm, margarine? not sure what to call it, but as close to butter as I’m going to get here) on a slice of bread while I have another one just plain. I hunker down on a stool under my World Map, sit back, and savor the first spoonful of eggs with a bite of bread mashed together in my mouth. The only thing that would have made it complete would be a huge pile of ketchup. Even without, it was all my taste buds could have imagined! Although my mothers secret ingredient was absent (love, of course), they were awesome and much needed. Peter looked up at me with begging eyes, as any dog in his right mind would do. Not this time, it’s all mine :)

Hitching, and not making himself useful...

He's grown so fast he doesn't fit anymore!

 

Me and the little rascal, Peter!