I’m not stopping, but apparently whatever small group of people do want to hear some Malawi stories aren’t able to comment. So, to solve this problem I’m reverting back to an older, slightly less streamline, but equally as cool travellin’ blog…
It was an honest attempt. And by that I mean Murph and I discussed it beforehand, bought the flour, and consulted the ‘Country Guide: Local food’ section recipe.
I think I should have sensed the bad omen when after preheating the oven I realized Joseph, the house helper had left (or permanently keeps) a used roasting pan in the oven. I tried to let the smoke air out, but I’m pretty sure there’s a hint of smoky meat-taste in the bread. It wouldn’t be all that bad if the flour I used was all-purpose or some version of gluten-y grain flour, but as it turns out, we got the big bag of corn flour that’s used to make the ever popular nsima porridge. So, the combination of that, the smoke, and my suspicion that their baking powder is in fact soda made the first attempt gritty, smoky and salty. I was proud of my cast iron makeshift loaf-pan greasing ability though. And somehow I managed to cook it perfectly so it’s nice and moist gritty, smoky, salty banana bread.
Surprisingly, after all the preparations I didn’t think about any bugs other than mosquitos. This is a prelude to a short cockroach story for your enjoyment. Murph and I are staying at a guest house on campus and it’s equip with the amenities you’d have at home. Now, there are differences between the home-kind and the here-kind, but for the most part it covers all the bases.
The first night I was here I walked into the kitchen during one of the scheduled brown-outs and watched two cockroaches run across the counter. I can only conclude that these cockroaches were trying to show up their fellow cockroach buddies and decided at some point steroids were the way to go; frakin’ massive little guys. I did what any girl would do and let out a scream, but got it together pretty quickly drawing on heartwarming memories of Wall-E and his little buddy. The next day Murph exerted his manly instincts and sprayed some insect killer, most likely taking years off our lives. That night we witnessed what can only be described as a horror scene with gigantic cockroaches vacating the cupboards under our sink and running across our kitchen floor. This is where Murph was stationed for stomping. I think memories of that will haunt me for a good, long while. I know the war isn’t over, but we won the first battle
I think sharing that story was part of the healing process and you were the lucky recipient(s).
You’d think with excessive tiredness and lack of food the London trip would be mediocre at best, but not even a little. It started off with the long lineup through customs,which probably represented the low point of the day, but after warding off the urge to pass out while standing we tackled the subway to Piccadilly.
The day consisted of brief tourist-y attractions including the likes of Buckingham Palace (where the ladies mastered the jump-shot) to Herman Melville’s house (completely by accident).
Caffeine breaks were required to get us through it all, but after the final espresso shots we meandered through Soho and pub hopped for the rest of the afternoon. This was only interrupted by a quick ‘Coronation Street scene’ where a man chased a pickpocket down the street yelling, “Police! Police!”. It could have been the beer buzz , but it was shocking!
Conclusions: The African crew is a bunch of very cool-cats, Caputo and I are going to move to London, and drinking in (or near) pubs is acceptable anytime of day.
So I packed up two suitcases of clothes and personal affects (mostly toiletries, medicine and books), headed across the Atlantic, and down to Southern Africa. This begins the 6 month CIDA internship in Malawi where I’ll be mashing up lots of research with travels and general adventuring.
