Growing on me?
On Mich’s birthday we met some neighbors as he played in the compound, he told anyone willing to listen – “It’s my birthday today”
“Oh, my! Happy Birthday! How old are you? What are going to do? What did your parents get you? Are you going out to dinner?”
“I’m five years old”, is all he’d say, didn't bother to answer the other questions, were they too many? Did they fly over his head?, I don’t know.
I got talking with this lady who was child sitting a friend’s 8 year old daughter. This girl (I forget her name) was apparently the best golf player of her age in the area, I thought wow! Golf at 8?!, back in the day Simon and I would run through the golf course shielding our heads with our bags lest a golf ball found a good landing spot on top of us.
Then the lady went on to ask me what games Mich plays, “err …anything fun, whatever” I shrugged my shoulders, I mean he is still a kid right?.
Then she says, “this would be the perfect time for him start golf training, he is the right age. My son started when he was 3”, and I’m smiling and saying wow! (I personally think golf is boring).
She says “but if he likes soccer he can start that now too, this is the best time”
Enough with the pressure, where I come from kids just play everything and anything, - tie banana fibers together make a ball and play, knot strips of grass together and skip, ati professional training at 3 or 4 years of age? What’s that?
Can a little person read and ace his exams? That is all that counts, you don’t waste time and money on games.
Later her husband joined us and Mich did his thing, “It’s my birthday”
The cycle begun again, “how old are you?” “what game do you play”, at this point I was thinking oh no! not again.
But you know, I'm thinking it would be nice to get him into something fun, playing a musical instrument maybe, like the piano or guitar. Oh my goodness! then I would end up being a real ‘soccer mom’ running from this rehearsal to the next.
Is this American lifestyle starting to grow on me?
You know what this reminds me of? - the time I first came into America.
I was advised to pack as little as possible with the notion that I would get everything I needed here.
With the excitement of travel and the knowledge that I had a toddler I was careful to heed the advice.
America after all is the land of our dreams, it has everything in abundance. The latest fashions, the most sophisticated electronic gadgets (from Japan), it’s the home to most celebrities, in fact the streets are so clean one doesn't have to wash clothes or bathe often :-).
They have amazing food, cuisines from around the world are fairly represented in the “American kitchen”. I just needed a few clothes that would tide me over the first few months and I was half right.
I was so wrong about the food, for the first weeks I thought my son and I were slowly going to die of hunger. Not that we were broke and couldn't buy any thing,- there was plenty of food, all kinds of food as a matter of fact but nothing familiar. The bakery aisle in the super market was filled with all tribes of bread but non that caught my fancy. The milk was a whole other issue - 1 percent, 2 percent, ¾ percent, whole milk, half milk, one was certainly spoilt for choice, but that would only be true if I was familiar with the choices.
Where I come from, there is milk period.
You go to the market and you get diary milk, or nido for those of you.
I haven’t even mentioned how I couldn't find blue band. I found carrots, tomatoes, green paper and onions of all colors but no matooke (plantains) or sweet potatoes, there was no millet flour or curry powder, there was no dodo, ebo, buga or nakati but they had collard greens and broccoli - greens I had never tasted. I thought, you know what? This is the end of me.
Quite apart from that, I was intimidated by the huge super markets and felt like someone stepping off a spinning wheel when I walked out the door. I had to be quick because I had a toddler to feed and a husband who was busy getting accustomed to his school schedule. Not to mention the times I wanted the house to cave in on me because I was afraid to venture outside – this in the crazy summer when it was too hot to stay outdoors or indoors for that matter. We lacked air conditioning you see. Philadelphia summer gave hot a whole new meaning.
I promised to bring all the foods I wanted from home when I had a chance. My shopping consisted of bare necessities (my version) for a Ugandan living away from home..
Banana chips, Simsim balls (sesame seed), -oh!nothing tastes as good as our local simsim or g-nuts. Millet flour for porridge and kalo (millet bread), cassava flour for kabalagala (banana pancakes).
By the way, did you know some people here have no idea what passion fruits are , never seen, never heard of - “mu life eno!” as one of my friends likes to say.
Unfortunately I couldn't carry nsenene (grass hoppers), deep fried tilapia – Ggaba style, dripping, sizzling pork “ne bigenderako” from Zanzi , luwombo, katogo... that is not to say the thought never crossed my mind.
But what am I saying?
This second time here, I don’t miss home food that much (self denial?), I’m more accustomed to what is available – Zucchini, Artichokes, kumquat, that kind of thing.
I never imagined I would get to this point, is the American lifestyle growing on me or what?
“Oh, my! Happy Birthday! How old are you? What are going to do? What did your parents get you? Are you going out to dinner?”
“I’m five years old”, is all he’d say, didn't bother to answer the other questions, were they too many? Did they fly over his head?, I don’t know.
I got talking with this lady who was child sitting a friend’s 8 year old daughter. This girl (I forget her name) was apparently the best golf player of her age in the area, I thought wow! Golf at 8?!, back in the day Simon and I would run through the golf course shielding our heads with our bags lest a golf ball found a good landing spot on top of us.
Then the lady went on to ask me what games Mich plays, “err …anything fun, whatever” I shrugged my shoulders, I mean he is still a kid right?.
Then she says, “this would be the perfect time for him start golf training, he is the right age. My son started when he was 3”, and I’m smiling and saying wow! (I personally think golf is boring).
She says “but if he likes soccer he can start that now too, this is the best time”
Enough with the pressure, where I come from kids just play everything and anything, - tie banana fibers together make a ball and play, knot strips of grass together and skip, ati professional training at 3 or 4 years of age? What’s that?
Can a little person read and ace his exams? That is all that counts, you don’t waste time and money on games.
Later her husband joined us and Mich did his thing, “It’s my birthday”
The cycle begun again, “how old are you?” “what game do you play”, at this point I was thinking oh no! not again.
But you know, I'm thinking it would be nice to get him into something fun, playing a musical instrument maybe, like the piano or guitar. Oh my goodness! then I would end up being a real ‘soccer mom’ running from this rehearsal to the next.
Is this American lifestyle starting to grow on me?
You know what this reminds me of? - the time I first came into America.
I was advised to pack as little as possible with the notion that I would get everything I needed here.
With the excitement of travel and the knowledge that I had a toddler I was careful to heed the advice.
America after all is the land of our dreams, it has everything in abundance. The latest fashions, the most sophisticated electronic gadgets (from Japan), it’s the home to most celebrities, in fact the streets are so clean one doesn't have to wash clothes or bathe often :-).
They have amazing food, cuisines from around the world are fairly represented in the “American kitchen”. I just needed a few clothes that would tide me over the first few months and I was half right.
I was so wrong about the food, for the first weeks I thought my son and I were slowly going to die of hunger. Not that we were broke and couldn't buy any thing,- there was plenty of food, all kinds of food as a matter of fact but nothing familiar. The bakery aisle in the super market was filled with all tribes of bread but non that caught my fancy. The milk was a whole other issue - 1 percent, 2 percent, ¾ percent, whole milk, half milk, one was certainly spoilt for choice, but that would only be true if I was familiar with the choices.
Where I come from, there is milk period.
You go to the market and you get diary milk, or nido for those of you.
I haven’t even mentioned how I couldn't find blue band. I found carrots, tomatoes, green paper and onions of all colors but no matooke (plantains) or sweet potatoes, there was no millet flour or curry powder, there was no dodo, ebo, buga or nakati but they had collard greens and broccoli - greens I had never tasted. I thought, you know what? This is the end of me.
Quite apart from that, I was intimidated by the huge super markets and felt like someone stepping off a spinning wheel when I walked out the door. I had to be quick because I had a toddler to feed and a husband who was busy getting accustomed to his school schedule. Not to mention the times I wanted the house to cave in on me because I was afraid to venture outside – this in the crazy summer when it was too hot to stay outdoors or indoors for that matter. We lacked air conditioning you see. Philadelphia summer gave hot a whole new meaning.
I promised to bring all the foods I wanted from home when I had a chance. My shopping consisted of bare necessities (my version) for a Ugandan living away from home..
Banana chips, Simsim balls (sesame seed), -oh!nothing tastes as good as our local simsim or g-nuts. Millet flour for porridge and kalo (millet bread), cassava flour for kabalagala (banana pancakes).
By the way, did you know some people here have no idea what passion fruits are , never seen, never heard of - “mu life eno!” as one of my friends likes to say.
Unfortunately I couldn't carry nsenene (grass hoppers), deep fried tilapia – Ggaba style, dripping, sizzling pork “ne bigenderako” from Zanzi , luwombo, katogo... that is not to say the thought never crossed my mind.
But what am I saying?
This second time here, I don’t miss home food that much (self denial?), I’m more accustomed to what is available – Zucchini, Artichokes, kumquat, that kind of thing.
I never imagined I would get to this point, is the American lifestyle growing on me or what?
First time here and i am liking. A workmate told me to start taking my 9 months old boy for swimming. What the flip
ReplyDeleteBe silent- thanks for dropping by.
ReplyDeleteWelcome to competive sports in Texas! I almost have forgotten about the obsesive nature of it there.
ReplyDeletePeople told me returning to the US from Mozambique to beware of the overwhelming nature of grocery stores as you see them with new eyes and too many choices. So true. Sometimes less is more (and easier).