Millet and a pestle

Memories of holidays spent in my father’s country side home become fonder every passing year.
It’s my fathers home because – I’m an African woman, a married African woman. When I said “I do”, Sam’s people became my people, his home became my home.
I embraced a new culture.

My father enjoyed company and celebration so, what was a party in Teso without ajon? - the local brew.
My recollection of what went into preparing ajon went something like this;-

Women harvested millet from the garden; they loaded it up in sacks and unburdened it in the courtyard.
Later, in the cool of the day, after a meal of “Achok keda ekyadoi” (sweet potatoes and greens) – they selected thick sticks and pestles to thresh the millet.
They saddled their babies on their backs and thumped the sacks to a rhythm. They swayed the sticks high over their heads in a circular motion, gained momentum and brought them down -hard onto the sacks.
The threshing went on for close to 30 minutes, spaced with intervals to turn the sacks over. In the process, the babies were lulled to sleep from the rocking movement – who needed a pram or stroller?

The thrashed millet was poured out on to large trays and the women proceeded to separate the grains from the stalks.
I watched with fascination.
The sifting process was my favorite part.
Gauging which way the wind blew, they stood with their backs against the breeze, raised their large trays into the air and poured the grains onto the ground.
I watched in amazement as the grains easily separated from the chaff. The grains fell to one side and the chaff was carried away in the wind – magically, beautifully, gracefully.
I wonder who came up with this idea.
One thing is for sure, man will survive some how - it’s in built, without a classroom to teach him how.

To avoid getting their hair all grainy, the women wrapped their heads in scarves, the girls didn’t care much for hair - it was short and could be washed as they showered later.
If the sun didn’t set too soon, the women dusted their grinding stones (usually kept in the granary), carried in the millet and set to grinding it to a powder. It had to be done in an enclosed area because the wind was likely to blow the fine grains away.
This was a perfect opportunity for the older women to study the girls grinding, to see whether their mothers had raised them right, if they would make good wives and if they were hard working. It wasn’t just another activity – it was loaded with hidden and not so hidden connotations.

The finely ground millet was placed in a huge saucepan filled with water and left to ferment for days.
I loved the taste of the millet just before it officially fermented – usually around day 3.
It tasted mmmm! so sweet; we called it "ebibi cee", yes, just like saying “ABBC”. I think it means “in the process”. Children ate ebibi cee a lot; sometimes we even added sugar and hot water - that made it heavenly.
If you miscalculated the appropriate time for ebibi cee, you were done for – the line between the sweet stuff and the real fermented brew was thin.

When the brew had been tasted and officially declared potent, pots were washed and prepared while the straws which we call “epeeyi” were tested; another interesting session.
The straws were soaked in water for a while. To ascertain that they were good for use one had to suck up water through the straw.
If the water didn’t come up, that indicated it was blocked or broken.
If it was broken, there was an attempt to mend it or throw it away.
If it was just blocked it was swung in quick caning motions to get it unclogged.
I always found it funny watching as the straws were tested – cheeks sucked in, the mouth muscles working like crazy, veins on the temples. If it was blocked that was even more hilarious because there was a bit of sweating – kind of like sucking thick yogurt through a small straw - you can truly work up a sweat.

Visitors flocked in. They sat in clusters and talked about whose goat had given birth, the chicken they sold in the market or how Okello’s wife had packed her bags and run back to her parent’s home.
In the mean time the women filled the pots to about half way with the brew; they carried a pot to the center of each cluster and placed it on a fiber woven in a circular format to prevent the pot from tilting over.
The women poured boiling water into the pots – filling them to the brim.
Before she got up to leave, she had the honors of taking the first sip - to confirm that it wasn’t poisoned and to know the taste of what she presented.

The men prodded the straws in the pot, leaned forward and drew up on it. The women anxiously stood in a corner and waited for the reaction. They hoped to hear “aberu, abeyite ejok ajono!” (woman, this beer is good), then they would hurry off to the kitchen to cook - occasionally checking to see if the men needed more hot water.

A sneak peek into tradition from the land of emorimor – (the chief in Teso).

What's Barakin?!

I hear that's the new cool greeting among high school students.
Forget "what's up?", "what's cooking?", "what's cutting?".

Anyway, it's 4 o'clock in the morning, I have been up since 3 am. I simply can't sleep.
Got a few things on my mind, but usually that doesn't keep me awake at night.

So I decided to use the time to reply all mail that has been pending in my inbox.
Read about swine flu outbreaks.
Then - I blog :-)

That's what's barakin this side of the world.

Fruss like that!

-Standing in a queue and the man behind me doesn’t care to give distance.
-Locking keys in the car, desperately watching them dangle in the window – no spares at hand.
-Giving a kid directions to fetch something and watching them turn every which way except...
-Sitting in the foldable chair of a taxi, furiously being tapped because the person at the back wants to exit. Hey! I know. The taxi stopped, didn’t it? I heard you say “masaawo” didn’t I? – what now?!
-In the middle of bathroom business when a kid knocks on the door claiming it’s an emergency.
-Person claims to have an urgent message but never gets to the point.
-Power cut in the middle of a favorite soap.
-Chewing aloud.
-The smell of raw onions on bread.
-Settling down to eat a snack I labored over only to hear “please give me some”.
-Misplacing the tickets to the show
-Wrapping up for the day when the boss arrives with extra urgent work.
-Forgetting my purse - just then, the conductor stretches out his hand for the fare.
-Someone allegedly trying to sing along to the music on a walkman/ipod, whatever. Listen in silence - dance, bob your head but don’t sing, it doesn’t sound the same – to rest of us that is.
-Food runs out just when I’m next in line.
-Running out of battery in the middle of an important phone conversation.
-Snobs from that school.
-No network.
-Cell phone rings in the middle of a sermon.
-Asking lots of questions when a sister is hungry.
-A fidgety, antsy, complaining, chattering human being on a roll. Stop already!!

My First Apple

Flash back

I made it into the room just in time to see Peter and Simon chew the last slices.
I begged for some but it was too late; already gone, making it's way passed the epiglottis and down the canal.

What a sad moment that was.

Standing as close to Peter as I could get, I looked in the black spot of his eye, desperately hoping I’d savor the taste as he swallowed.
When he finished I asked – nearly chocking on my tears.
“What did it taste like?”
He squared up his shoulders, cleared his throat and was about to explain when Simon shouted “It tastes like chocolate”.
Oh! My mouth watered as I relished the thought of munching on a chocolate apple.
“No” Peter said “He is lying, it tastes like a sweet raw mango”
Huh? I was confused.

While I was trying to think it through Simon asked me if I really wanted an apple.
My eyes lit up, I said “yes”.
He said, “You want it right now?”, more excited and louder I said “yes, now, now”.
He asked me to follow him into the kitchen which I did in a hurry, almost tripping over a stool. He smiled and pointed to the spiky fruit on the kitchen counter and said “this is an apple, a pine-apple”.
My little heart was crushed.

Uncle Henry, seeing the mess I was in offered to buy me an apple from Fairway hotel. It was the only place that sold apples. Some people didn't even know what apples were but curiosity was building pretty fast.
The apples were few - we had to sprint.
We scrambled out the door and run as fast as our legs could carry us. Uncle Henry trotted a long, out of breathe - nearly limping.
He pulled out 10 shillings from his worn out wallet and paid for my first green apple.

Without wasting time we dashed back home, headed straight to the kitchen, diced the fruit into 4 equal pieces and munched away just like we had seen in the movies.

Yumm! It had a sour-ish, sweet-ish taste, kind of like... a sweet raw mango.
My first apple.

Talent and tradition

I finished The Kite Runner yesterday, what an amazing novel!
While people have moved on to Olive Kitteridge I'm jogging a long on the edge of the crowds.

It feels like I travelled to Afghanistan, lived there, run a kite, fled the country, came back, got a thorough beating, healed from the wounds and became the proud parent of a little boy.
Hosseini's descriptions are so vivid - I smelt the air in Kabul, felt the dust settling on my feet and interacted with the locals.
I like that he treasures Afghan culture, that even after 20 years in a foreign land, Kabul is still home. He is in touch with the people, and their customs.
I had similar sentiments after reading A Thousand Splendid Suns.

Hosseini is/was a doctor, but he has mastered the art of writing fiction better than those schooled in the art. Sometimes natural God given talent opens doors that lecture theatres can not/may not.

His writing inspires me to hope that I too can live here and treasure the traditions of my people;- the Iteso/Japadhola/Bafumbira.
Not lose the essence of being Ugandan;- language, respect for elders and community
and keeping my taste buds alive to Eboo, Ekyadoi, Atap, Emagira, Bushera, Eshabwe e.t.c

Actually I would get on fine, but the question is, would Mich?

By golly! I've been tagged

There I was, minding my own business when suddenly -"tag, your it!". Ugandan girl, smiling, said something about tagging me with the Honest Scrap Award.
I'm told “This award is bestowed upon a fellow blogger whose blog’s content or design is, in the giver’s opinion, brilliant.”
What can I say?, it's cool to be thought of as an Honest blogger but getting an award for it, is even cooler :-).

"Ahem!! Ladies and gentle men, I'm honored to receive this Honest Scrap award courtesy of Ugandan girl.
And now to bare my soul. It is scary, you know?!, kinda like a guy gathering his wits to tell a girl he likes her".
But anyway, honest things about me;

1. I love peace and quiet. When I'm writing an article, patching together scrap notes, thinking through ideas, I need maximum silence. That is when it brews, thoughts flow like a peaceful river or a thunderous storm (depending) on to the paper or computer.
   
2. I have the best family in the world. Talk about laughter, pranks, support, love, straight talk,squabbles - all mingled in there. My best moments were sitting in the kitchen, all 15 of us, listening and telling stories about boarding school.
   
3. I was a serial liar as a kid, my goodness! Like I had been spell bound, I couldn't tell the truth to save my life. Lies rolled off my tongue as naturally as a ball on a slope. Jesus came to my rescue, hallelujah!
   
4. I like to read a good book seasoned with humour that jumps out unexpectedly; The kite runner, anything Mark Twain, Catcher In The Rye like that.
   
5. I'm quiet, I prefer to listen than to speak, but please don't push it.
   
6. Tight! this one- I once had a crush on a colleague at work. I considered myself the worst sinner/wife/mother/woman on the globe. Then I found out that, it will happen, it's what do you with it that counts.
   
7. I hate bugs but roaches top the list.
   
8. I have always dreamed of singing background vocals with my favorite artists; Mercyme, Casting crowns, Jeremy Camp - watch this space, because, by the way ...
   
9. I'm spoiled for deep lyrics and a catchy tune, belted by an artist who makes it believable, as though they were living in the moment of that experience. - But what hurts the most, You'll think of me, I can only Imagine, Who am I, You are God alone
   
10. I did the long distance dating thing for 3 good years. It was back in the day when Internet and cellphones were only a rumour. We survived on snail mail for the most part - 4 weeks of waiting at the post office, aya! can't believe we made it. Walked down the aisle and I wouldn't have had it any other way.
    
11. Hot tempered people freak me out.
    
12. I tend to make rush decisions and end up kicking myself in the foot.
    
13. Ok, I didn't mention this but it's the ultimate - I love Jesus.
    

Now, once tagged one can not as if scamper off like nothing happened, so to set myself free I searched for some peeps who I suspect are honest. Here goes;Emi,3TOC,B2B's,Maya,Unspoken words,Atupa,Bruised reed

That's all she wrote folks.

Then the instructions for the above

1You must brag about the award
2You must include the name of the blogger who bestowed the award on you and link back to the blogger
3You must choose a minimum of seven (7) blogs that you find brilliant in content or design.
4Show their names and links and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with Honest Weblog.
5List at least ten (10) honest things about yourself. Then pass it on!Who knew this would be so much work!.

Have a blast people, good day or night depending on when the sun arrives or leaves you.

Random acts of Kindness

Bunny?

As you may have noted by now, I love commemorating Easter and the events leading up to it.
Easter is the essence of my being – life itself.
Jesus took my blame, my sin, my shame.
He died so I could live.
The tomb is empty and my heart is full of Joy
He is risen!!
He is Alive, I just talked to Him today.

So, I’m musing on this deep stuff - thinking white robes, angels singing, satan- head hung low, coiled up, defeated and feeling like hell.
Then Mich tells me, with a grave look on his face how I must buy him Easter eggs, paint them and fill them with candy for an Easter egg hunt.
Commercials are buzzing;- easter bunnies, easter eggs, easter casseroles - the works.

Errrr… and just what does this rodent like, big eared, furry hopper have to do with Easter?
I’m told; Easter comes at the budding of spring which is synonymous with newness. Rabbits tend to give birth to litter round about now;- eggs are also synonymous with fertility. An ancient tradition started in Germany had Eoster as the goddess of fertility and some how the bunny was her symbol, people said it brought eggs and candy to good kids, kind of like Santa around Christmas.
So, you get the connection or have I confused you? Well at least I hope I did one or the other.

With all the egg hunts going on, birds must be on a serious egg-laying regiment round about now. While Mich gets high on candy, I’m thinking of tactful ways of keeping things in perspective. I want him to know that egg hunts and candy may be fun but Easter is really about Jesus' resurrection.
Thankfully, his dad, his teachers and Sunday school are backing me up.

I found a fascinating egg once, it had a sponge, a nail and a tiny paper scroll with the words INRI inscribed - a powerful statement about Christ’s death and resurrection.
What can I say? I like my Easter revered.


HAPPY EASTER!

Torture in the garden

As I strolled through the park that evening, sobbing my eyes out, my heart felt so tight, like it would explode right then.
My world was falling apart.
I struggled with the fact that Jesus let this happen, leaving me with no comfort but Himself. He didn’t fulfill my dreams. I had planned my life out but He was not following the script.
I was shattered.
In that moment, every thing around was blur, I could hear myself breathe. I felt trapped in a dark room, all other thoughts shut outside.
He had my full attention.

38Then He said to them, My soul is very sad and deeply grieved, so that [c]I am almost dying of sorrow. Stay here and keep awake and keep watch with Me.
39And going a little farther, He threw Himself upon the ground on His face and prayed saying, My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass away from Me; nevertheless, not what I will [not what I desire], but as You will and desire. …
42Again a second time He went away and prayed, My Father, if this cannot pass by unless I drink it, Your will be done. …
44So, leaving them again, He went away and prayed for the third time, using the same words. …
46Get up, let us be going! See, My betrayer is at hand!
Matthew 26:38-46

Jesus' battle was most tumultuous right here. After all the pleading and anguish, He accepted that His father wasn’t changing the situation. His contention was - making the decision, accepting, surrendering to His fathers plan - after that He was good.

Good Friday is one of favourite religious festivals. As I grow older, my fascination and interest deepens.
The cross, the crown of thorns, the nails in His hands;
All for me!
A battle for my soul.
Christ encountered death and hell in its most horrific form.

And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit.
At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook and the rocks split. The tombs broke open and the bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. They came out of the tombs, and after Jesus' resurrection they went into the holy city and appeared to many people.
Matthew 27:50-53
Talk about dynamite;- forget Hollywood, this is what real super hero is made of.

Looking at my situation, this was a light bulb moment.
I let go of my dreams, trading them for His.
The madness of a believer! - giving up what you can't keep to gain what you can't lose.
Salvation is crazy stuff if you think about it, so don't even try using your head.

Oswald Chambers;
… we must surrender all pretense that we are anything, and give up all our claims of even being worthy of God’s consideration. Once we have done that, the Spirit of God will show us what we need to surrender next. Along each step of this process, we will have to give up our claims to our rights to ourselves. Are we willing to surrender our grasp on all that we possess, our desires, and everything else in our lives? Are we ready to be identified with the death of Jesus Christ?
We will suffer a sharp painful disillusionment before we fully surrender. When people really see themselves as the Lord sees them, it is not the terribly offensive sins of the flesh that shock them, but the awful nature of the pride of their own hearts opposing Jesus Christ. When they see themselves in the light of the Lord, the shame, horror, and desperate conviction hit home for them.
If you are faced with the question of whether or not to surrender, make a determination to go on through the crisis, surrendering all that you have and all that you are to Him. And God will then equip you to do all that He requires of you.

God had His dreams shuttered when Adam and Eve ate that fruit. The plan for us to busk in the garden of Eden, chilling with Him, flew threw the window.

Then Jesus.

Boarding School

Losing basins
Losing plates
Finding basins
Finding plates and cups
Marking basins
Marking plates and cups and spoons

Jerrycans, basins
Lose them, find them, mark them
Fill them with water, note the amount
Don't use those drops without permission
Drops of water carried from the well
From the well - on your head, nearly breaking your neck

Plates in the lockers, precious lockers, padlocked for safety
Safety? Yes, of grab and appetizer
What appetizer? The one christened "appeta"
"Appeta" added to the beans and weevils, to make them palatable.

Beat bush - not the President
Bush- the millet flour
Unscrew light fixture, connect the wires
The wires, wrapped around bed springs
Bed springs from the decker, placed in a cup of water
"Suicide" a name well befitting
Did the bush die? Not in experienced hands

Books and pens
Pens and textbooks
Watch out! exams draw near - then they go missing
Missing? Missing? how?
Someone took them, borrowed without asking
Now you depend on summaries,
Summary points for History, Chemistry, Biology …

Life in Boarding School!

The Donkey

"As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage and Bethany at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two of his disciples, saying to them, "Go to the village ahead of you, and just as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here.
If anyone asks you, 'Why are you doing this?' tell him, 'The Lord needs it and will send it back here shortly.' "
…"Many people spread their cloaks on the road, while others spread branches they had cut in the fields. Those who went ahead and those who followed shouted, "Hosanna!" "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" "Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!" "Hosanna in the highest!"
Jesus entered Jerusalem and went to the temple.
Mark 11:1-11

The donkey was at the right place at the right time.
Its “spot light” moment had arrived.
I like to think it was born for that purpose - to have Jesus sit on its back and take Him into Jerusalem.
Did it ever think - “life sucks! How is it that no body wants to use me?”
Jesus knew precisely where it was.
I recall Palm Sunday growing up; people selling palm fronds on Saturday evening and early Sunday morning.
It was vital to have a palm leaf at church, just so you could shake it when the priest came to that part.
The only trouble was standing in the queue struggling to get into Christ the King church and dealing with people carelessly holding their palms fronds which ended up pinching and scratching me. Occasionally I was steered to holy anger.
After church we would walk home smiling reverently.
The palms quickly got discarded or used for making little mat designs. But as usual Mum reminded us that they were holy so on occasion we would hang them up on the walls.

I wonder whether I would have been in the crowd cheering and singing praises or sneering at some dude who thought he was all that?
I certainly hope I would have been cheering.

Jesus made the triumphant entry into Jerusalem five days before his death, a week before His resurrection.
He knew it all and took it in stride – amazing.

Happy Palm Sunday.

Gyming

Nearly every morning, I don my jogging gear and drag myself to the gym.
Working out is not fun, it's just one of those necessary evils so to speak.

5 years and 3 babies later, I have pots, yes pots on my belly that would inspire any woman to hit the gym. When I bend over my midsection unravels into 3 parts - Oh! it's a sorry sight I tell you.
Makes me wonder how these ladies do it -I know they are celebrities but they are human.
Didn't they eat byenda, salt less bean soup, porridge, more porridge and bitter berries just so the milk would flow?
I mean, it's murder trying to breast feed while dieting to lose weight.
What about the needed rest and dealing with memory loss? - pregnancy does things to you. Personally it takes another 9 months to figure out what is happening in the world, add the sleepless nights;feeding, soothing, changing diapers - absolute chaos.

How in all that mix do they get such coveted bodies?.

Halle Berry had a baby just the other day, she is in her 40's but look at her:-


So, with some kind of passion, I hit the tread mill and sweat like a wheelbarrow pusher in Kikuubo. Then I do so many crunches like my life depends on it, I feed on leaves and fruits - for the most part and yet every time I stand on that weighing scale am a pound heavier.

I hear some celebs use other means to lose baby fat.
Slimming tablets;- Mostly appetite suppressants, swallow them like you would panadols and voila. I'm not one for tablets anyway, an injection? - maybe.
Tummy tucks;- Unless it's a critical life saving procedure, I'm not about to go under the knife.
Slimming belts;- I hear you can slouch on the couch watching TV and chewing popcorn while the pounds drop. The belt has a vibrator that stimulates the muscles and gets them working while you chill - a likely story!
So while our women back home lose breath with the lesu, the ones of sharper race are getting the best of both worlds.
I fancy a Cinderella type waist but what happens with the arms?
Slimming pants;- They shape, sculpture and firm, making you look slimmer for a few hours.
Swimming, yoga - maybe.
If I could only afford a personal trainer, my troubles would be over or so am told.

See, while African tradition believes a mother should be endowed in every which way - a portion of my happiness is tied in with the way I feel about myself.
I get a bit of an oomph when my body looks semi normal and every thing is where it should be.

So maybe if I keep working out, I will achieve something by the end of the year but in the mean time I'm throwing out the weighing scale.
I'm not fooling.