This morning, as planned, I went off on the motorcycle about 3 miles down the road to visit one of Kevin's female students. He really can't visit her at home, so it is up to me and I am pleased to visit her because she is such a sweet, lively person. I showed up there about 9:15, and by 9:30 she had started cooking. I expected this because unfortunately there is an idea that any visitor must be fed. This is very nice for the average Mozambican with a low income, as he or she probably has eaten very little for breakfast, but for us it is a nuisance and tiresome. You'll see why in a minute. But we appreciate the generosity from which this custom comes, and people are so kind to want to feed us.
The first 45 minutes, I sat on a chair in the shade by myself, visited occasionally by the lady, Faurita. We chatted about this and that and she would go back into the cooking area in front of her mud house (a chest-high wall in front of the house with roof over it) to poke at the fire. I wondered what would be to eat, as Kevin is frequently fed dried tiny shrimp that still have their shells on, a crunchy and gritty though tasty meal. I don't like shrimp, so I was hoping this wasn't it. Anyway, after about 20 minutes I suggested I would like to learn how to cook mozambican-style. Of course, I've seen a fair amount of mozambican cooking and can do quite a bit already, but this was a way to get me out of the chair and sitting near the lady so we could talk more. And I was bored. About 30 minutes later, she invited me into the "kitchen", where she was sitting on a sideways plastic jug and gave me one too. She was putting the rice in to cook. Now here, we eat fresh rice. Believe me, you will never go back to what we eat in America after eating fresh. It is indeed dried, but less than 6 months old and has a flavor you won't believe. Kevin bought some of the regular imported kind last week and we could hardly eat it. We are so spoiled now. Anyway, the second hour I was there was involved in cooking rice. Then she started cutting up greens - big leafy vegetable, while sitting sideways on a 7-inch high stool. She did this without a cutting board, simply slicing up toward her thumb while the leaves were rolled up tight. Yikes. Then time to cut some tomatoes, then some onions, same way. Meanwhile, we had moved back into the yard and watched the ducks wander around, along with the chickens and some babies came and went from the neighbors.
She has a little shop where she sells dried fish and shrimp, tomatoes and onions, and oil. It looks like something you'd see on Giligan's Island and to us would be "cute" but is just normal here. Built of bamboo, straw roof, countertop made of mud topped with cement to display the wares. It was very interesting to watch the neighbor ladies come and ask to buy a bit of cornflour, a little pile of fish, a few tomatoes, a half-cup of oil. Everything is bought in tiny amounts. One of the children knocked a green papaya off the tree and cut it up with a huge knife. Another of Kevin's students (another lady) showed up with a huge pile of peanuts and we shelled some of them while we waited for the water to boil to cook the greens (rice was now finished). As we passed the 2 1/2 hour mark, they started pounding peanuts in the big mortar and pestle thing (don't know English name!) and shaking out the powder through a sieve. Eventually, at about hour 3, this was done and all put into the pot. I sent Kevin a message saying "we are going to eat now." Another 30 minutes passed. Much banging around in the cooking area and inside the house where I believe dishes were being procured. I was asked to sit on a straw mat in the shade. Finally, lunch. Some very tough chicken pieces in about 3 cups of oil (no joke) with a nice curry flavor, plain rice to mix it with, and the greens in peanut sauce. A delicious lunch, really, and Faurita was so generous in making it for me. But wow did it take a long time. I thought that a 9 am visit would avoid a meal, but instead it meant 3 1/2 hours prep time! Which is understandable since each item must be cooked in its entirety, then set aside to cook the next thing. She needs a three-rock (actually 9 rock) "cookstove" instead of a one-rock.
We used the time to talk about how she became a Christian, who were the various children around (her husband's 9 year old son from a former marriage, her 12-year old niece whose mother died last year), which neighbor had a new husband or wife (people leave and "marry" again more casually than you would think). One of the students said to me that people thought it was very funny I was sitting there talking with them because "white people don't come and visit us" and I thought "That's because it takes 4 hours!!!!" but was glad I had come. Finally, after we finished eating and chasing the ducks away from our food, I announced we really ought to go and would she like a ride to my house (she walks all the way into the city to buy things for her little shop)? Yes, of course. She brings out the gifts. About 5 pounds of fresh rice for us, and a huge pile of peanuts from the other student. Then she catches the chicken running around the yard. I looked at her and said "Oh no. I can't take that on the motorcycle. Please, I have chickens at home." "No," she insisted "I bought this for Toby". Wow, Toby will NOT be thrilled, I think, but luckily he can be told to pretend to be happy and he will be.
So, we wrap up all the gifts (minus chicken) and tie them to the back of the bike, then we both climb on and said chicken is held by its wings by Faurita. Now, on a normal day I am quite a sight to see on the bike (more on that in another post) but today is a very SPECIAL sight. I am so thankful I don't have to go through the city. Off we go. Chicken arrives looking half-dead but some water will perk him up. And I check the clock - 1:30. Man, I'm beat.
On a more serious note, you can keep Faurita in your prayers. Her husband has been running around with other women and the only thing she can do is leave him. If she tries, she'll probably lose anything she has, and she doesn't make enough money to support herself. Her family might help her, but it would be rough as none of them have much money. She doesn't know what to do and he is also sometimes violent. Unfortunately, this is an all-too-common story here and we hear many stories of women being victimized by their husbands in various ways. She is a faithful Christian who wants to do the right thing. - Cami
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