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.