Soup in my hand
With the patient guidance of two village moms, I managed to cook my own dinner; traditional Okra soup (okra, fish, onion, spices) and banko (cassava root ground to “gari” meal mixed with corn meal, then cooked in water to a paste-turned-dough). Rumor has it, I almost pass for a local, rather than a “jevoo” posing for photos… That is, until they showed me how to taste the soup to see if it needed more salt. “Pour it in your hand, like this, and taste!” said Dora (Portia and Alicia’s mom). Yowee! Too hot for me! The tough skin on their hands can handle so much more than my pampered hands.
The sudden rain caused an abrupt scramble inside to finish cooking. The tin roof amplifies the music of the heavy drops, and though the kids are sad their fun has been put to an end (adults shooed them home), it’s a welcomed reprieve from the humidity and mosquitoes (though the three that escaped the rain are hovering above me on my mosquito net–bastards!)