It pays to be sick

Fleas have been a general nuisance since I have arrived in Rwanda. They get free room and board and, up until this point, I have received nothing to make it a symbiotic relationship. The tides have now turned. The flea bite turned scab turned puss filled bother to my leg turns out to be something like a tissue infection and got me an all expenses paid trip to Kigali! Sure, I had to have the growth cut off, drained, have an IV in each arm (because the first time the doctor didn’t get it quite right and if he continued the antibiotic could have ended up in my arm. He’s a great doctor, just made a mistake, we all do), and now I’m on another malaria pill for three weeks (which generally causes sun sensitivity and stomach aches when you take the normal one a day, but I have the good fortune of taking two a day on top of my current malaria medication!) as a preventative measure because the doctor worries that the flea could have had Lyme disease. But when all that was said and done I got to talk to a bunch of volunteers closing out their service, one of whom is friends with someone I went to middle school and high school with, go to Bourbon Café to eat good food, go to a bar and make a local connection, go to another restaurant for dinner and have an amazing cheese burger, another bar followed by two other trainees coming to the Case because of medical things. All in all, great start to what is now a four day weekend!

UPDATE: Just went to the doctor again, looks like I’m staying in Kigali for another night, which means more money, better food, electricity, and internet access at Bourbon Café! Everything is fine with my leg, he just wants to keep me another day for observation.

Cassava pancakes

Today Ella and I tried to recreate a traditional American brunch for our families. Menu options included banana pancakes (with Vermont maple syrup and Maine blueberry jam), scrambled eggs, hash browns with onions, pineapple, finger bananas, and passion fruit. Bacon, unfortunately, was out of the question, same with sausage links. We could have gone into town and substituted brochettes (goat on a stick) for the meat options, but it’s generally a tossup on a) quality, meaning fatty or not b) spiciness c) if they give you goat intestine. So that idea was scrapped. But we were determined to make it amazing, so yesterday we went to the market and bought everything, including a pan to make the pancakes on. Things started off hopeful and optimistic, the charcoal fire ready and roaring, but quickly deteriorated into despair and misery. I couldn’t find my measuring cups or spoons so we had to eyeball everything, not a big deal. But when my mama comes round to check on how we’re doing she asks what the white powder we’re using for the pancakes is. We answer flour. She answers no, this is not flour; this is cassava flour. Well, that accounts for the unusual yellowy and coarse consistency of the pancakes. We truck on, add a ton of sugar to the now cassava banana pancakes. With the sugar they tasted ok, not great, but normal pancakes wouldn’t have come out that great anyways. Battle wound #1: flipping a pancake oil splatters everywhere and creates a huge bubble on my middle finger.

After pancakes come the hash browns. Peeling the potatoes reveals purple veins running through every single potato. Hash browns now become hash purples. By this point we just don’t give a damn and we are determined to see this brunch through to the end. Toss in onions and oil. Add a lot of salt, pepper, and paprika (why the hell not?). Being in Rwanda for nearly two months, our noses were no longer acquainted with the aroma that was intruding in our senses. Something was weird…but good. FLAVOR!! Rwandans don’t have a taste for flavor, or anything for that matter. If it’s not bland they don’t like it.

After the hash purples come the eggs, all twenty of them. Probably the one food that stuck to its natural tendency of being what we are used to, only it was a little orangier than eggs back home, probably because the chickens here are allowed to live their chicken lives and make chickenier chicken eggs. Eggs complete, it’s time to eat. All in all, things came out as best as they could have given the circumstances, and was generally a more balanced diet than what I’m accustomed to here.

In summation, brunch in Rwanda: banana pancakes ---> cassava pancakes, hash browns ---> hash purples, yellow egg yolks ---> orange egg yolks, hot oil ---> bubble on middle finger

S'ghetti

Today I made my first meal in Rwanda, with the help of fellow trainee Ella. You'd think simple spaghetti and garlic bread would be easy, but that's because you're not in Africa. Nothing is made easy on this continent. All things considered it could have been worse but nonetheless it's not an easy task. To quote myself from tonight, "It's like we're trying to make spaghetti s'mores style."

Dinner begins by starting a roaring fire while pushing the baby goats out of the kitchen, which is situated to the left of where the cows sleep. You need to start the fire before the sun sets because it's your main source of light. There is a lantern, but it's obnoxiously bright and I prefer not to use it. Once the fire started we cut up tomatoes and onions. I am becoming increasingly skilled at cutting things in my hand out of necessity because the idea of something like a cutting board does not exist in the mind of Rwandans, and if you try to mime or insist on using one you'll get stared at, though that's going to happen no matter what.

Throw everything in the pot, wait for it to boil, set it aside (aka on the floor) and start with the pasta. So far so good. The problem mostly started after the pasta. How do you drain something scalding hot with nothing but sheets of paper between your fingers and the pot? Carefully. Making the garlic bread took the same amount of dexterity of the fingers. I grabbed both ends with my hands and rotated it like a suckling pig over a fire. With that done dinner was ready! Given that this was one of the few meals in country I've had that didn't consists of rice and beans but spices and flavor, it was the best I could have hoped for. Definitely missing home cooked meals by my mom.