Beloved nsima

As of today I have been at my site, Bwanje, for exactly 3 months.  5 months ago yesterday I arrived in Malawi.  Before coming I did as much reading as I could about what sorts of things Malawians eat.  Not that food was a selling or breaking point into coming to Malawi, but curiosity got the best of me.  “Nsima” was something I could not grasp a concept of, let alone figure out how to pronounce.  But the first week I was in country I had my first taste of it.  Simply put, it doesn’t have much taste and fills you up pretty darn quick.  Do you remember your mom ever making Cream of Wheat?  Well, that’s what it looks like, but it doesn’t taste quite as delicious sprinkled (read: dumped) with sugar on Sunday mornings with everyone still in their pajamas.

I’ll give some background of nsima  It is the #1 staple food in Malawi (and many neighboring countries from what I understand) made from corn.  The process is extremely extraneous, consisting of pulling dried corn kernels off the cob (you should have seen Justine’s blisters after a half an hour!  That’s some tough stuff!), pounded, sifted, washed, pounded again, sifted again, taken to the maize mill, until it is an acceptable ufa (flour).  No machines for most of this process!  As if the preparation isn’t hard enough, Amayi’s, as well as children, have perfected the art of making nsima from the ufa.  It truly is a challenge to make a good, smooth nsima considering once you put the flour in the boiling pot of water all it wants to do is clump together...at least that’s what happens to me.  

I am asked all the time if I make nsima...and then I’m asked if I eat it.  Well, I’ve made it a few times, yes, and it was acceptable to eat by my standards.  However my neighbor said I had some work to do…  I make Peter an usipa (fish) and nsima porridge to eat...does that count as making nsima?  If one can make a good pot of nsima then Malawians say that she will make a good wife.  Hum...

Something many people will say is “If you haven’t eaten nsima then you haven’t eaten!”  Well, according to Malawians, it looks like there have been days that have gone by where I haven’t eaten in that case.  When invited to meals I can only eat about one patty of nsima (average is about the size of your hand extended), and if I’m really hungry I might get 1.5 or 2.  Simply put, nsima fills up your belly so, truly, you feel like you’ve just eaten a feast!  I can’t handle that much!

All this came to light when I went to one of my counterparts houses before a meeting with the mushroom club that the PCV before me established.  I arrived at his home and was welcomed and offered a chair to sit on while I waited.  Shortly I was told “bwerani” (“you should come”) by one of his sons.  I’m always cautious when following men into or through a house, as it is assumed that if a man and woman are in the same room even for a very brief time then some hanky panky must have occurred.  But all was well, as I was led to the back veranda to join for nsima.

I accompanied two older men and my counterpart which at first felt awkward.  Men and women in Malawi eat separately, even if they are in same room.  I don’t usually notice it until it clicks in my brain that the genders aren’t interacting.  Anyways, I felt a little uncomfortable at first, but then realized I was only felt that way because of how the Malawian culture expects it to be.  So I thought maybe I’d get closer to the table to make them uncomfortable...hehe.  It’s fun sometimes to see if you can push someone out of their comfort zone :)

I was asked, “Mumadya nyama nya umbudzi?” (literally: You habitually continuously eat skin of goat?”).  “Inde!” (“yes!”).  Bodza (“false/lie”)!!  I don’t really care for goat to be honest.  However, having been taught proper manners by my parents, I will not refuse food when it is offered by a host.  Most definitely didn’t want to offend anyone.  And really, goat is pretty good if it’s cooked well, which has only happened for me twice since I’ve been here.  Er, as of today 3 times.

Of course nsima was on the menu along with the meat and ndiwo (side dish/relish) of greens with groundnut (peanut) flour.  We all wash up with water being poured from a battered teapot over our hands and collecting in a crisp metal bowl.  Then the containers are opened with our goodies inside and passed around.  To my surprise, knowing Malawian culture, I was served first.  Woohoo, best pick of the meat :p

I wait until the other men start, remembering my American manners that are not easily forgotten.  Not knowing enough Chichewa for conversation, I do my best to sort of stare off into the back yard which is filled with piles upon piles of wood, a humongous palm tree, 3 dogs tied up, an old beat up truck and one that still sparkles (hardly anyone in the village has a vehicle, let alone a bike).  

Do you remember when you were a child and you would try to sneak peeks at things without trying to look obvious, since mom always said it was rude to stare?  Yeah, that was me...trying to observe how these men were rolling their nsima.  Yet kids here in Malawi stare at me all the time...does that mean I’ve earned it to stare back?

May sound funny, but I swear there is an art to it.  You dish up a patty the size of your hand or bigger, pull pieces of it off (which often times is straight from the pot and feels as if I am handling molten lava), and roll it in your palm to create some sort of thing that looks like a sushi roll before it is sliced.  To that, you are supposed to “stick” things to it, like a chunk of ndiwo and maybe some meat.  That whole “sticking” thing is where I’m lost.  I end up sort of piling it on the end of my deformed nsima-sushi-hand-roll-thing and trying my best to make it in my mouth in one felled swoop.  The meat I’ve given up on trying to “cut” with my fingers so depending on the company I’m in I’ll put the whole piece in my mouth and chew until it’s broken down.  You always know which plate is mine, as it will have little pieces of nsima in the sauce since I just cant seem to grasp the rolling technique.

No matter how much I try to roll it like a Malawian, it never ever turns out the same.  But I really do enjoy nsima.  Even though it doesn’t have much flavor, I will never pass up a good plate of nsima and nyemba (beans, my favorite!) or other delicious ndiwo my neighbor cooks (cabbage with tomato, tomato with groundnut flour, eggplant, and more).  Also, it’s a bonus because when I eat nsima it fills me for the entire day so I don’t have to cook!  Win win :)

I managed to get through lunch just fine and come out the other end with a full tummy.  I didn’t seem to offend any of the men with my ill-practiced nsima rolling techniques either, which is a bonus.  Instead of doing sudoku puzzles (my latest addiction) maybe I should be practicing my nsima techniques so I don’t embarrass myself at my next big event.  Fortunately, for this reason, there was no nsima at the State House when I met the President of Malawi, but that’s a story for another day.

Today was the first time that I realized I was subconsciously mixing my American cultural etiquette with that of Malawian culture.  However, a large part of this experience is learning and understanding another way of life.  But there are times there is no room for American ways of doing things, even though it has all become second nature and it’s nearly impossible to to weed it out.  For example, food here is eaten with your hands (ha, mom!!).  Growing up I was taught to put down my silverware after I had taken a bite.  Well...what are you supposed to do with your hand (i.e. utensil) sticky with nsima, when you’re chewing a big hunk of meat?  Yeah, Peace Corps never briefed us on that one.  Neither did mom ;)

My home cooked nsima with scrambled mzira (eggs) 

and ndiwo (tomatoes, onions, and spices)