I've been wanting to write about food for awhile, and I've probably written about food in the past. When there is not much entertainment or social connection, food becomes many things. But lately, I've seen even more.
Perhaps it is with the onset of the rainy season. Or perhaps it began with the new generator house being built and the presence of men on campus too noticeable in their bright red suits. The gardeners and maintenance men here tend to wear a dull blue that blends with environment. But everywhere people are looking for food.
I've become more aware of where my food comes from. Similar to having a garden back home, the tomatoes and lettuce we get (from the garden next door) are more flavorful. The mangoes are heavenly and the avocado divine. I feel so treated and blessed, maybe because they are expensive and rare in the States. But to simply pick a papaya from the tree seems a wonder. I marvel at these small joys, a perk to living on campus with its abundance of fruit trees and gardening space. But I see everyone else searching for mangoes that have fallen and are just right (I have not mastered this art and cannot find the edible ones, though Mohamed often tries.) They search for mushrooms to such a degree that both boys spot them on the weekends and pick to save for Mama Vero when she comes on Monday. It sparked a delicious conversation in which Mohamed insisted they were mushrooms and Nabih said, "No! Champignons." I could only laugh and say,"Yes" to both.
People look hungry to me when they are stooping to gather something from the earth, though I don't know why it is so. It is natural to gather our food, fresh from the soil. But I am tamed and used to seeing it growing in quarantined plots or beneath the harsh, artificial lights inside a store.
Perhaps it is with the onset of the rainy season. Or perhaps it began with the new generator house being built and the presence of men on campus too noticeable in their bright red suits. The gardeners and maintenance men here tend to wear a dull blue that blends with environment. But everywhere people are looking for food.
I've become more aware of where my food comes from. Similar to having a garden back home, the tomatoes and lettuce we get (from the garden next door) are more flavorful. The mangoes are heavenly and the avocado divine. I feel so treated and blessed, maybe because they are expensive and rare in the States. But to simply pick a papaya from the tree seems a wonder. I marvel at these small joys, a perk to living on campus with its abundance of fruit trees and gardening space. But I see everyone else searching for mangoes that have fallen and are just right (I have not mastered this art and cannot find the edible ones, though Mohamed often tries.) They search for mushrooms to such a degree that both boys spot them on the weekends and pick to save for Mama Vero when she comes on Monday. It sparked a delicious conversation in which Mohamed insisted they were mushrooms and Nabih said, "No! Champignons." I could only laugh and say,"Yes" to both.
People look hungry to me when they are stooping to gather something from the earth, though I don't know why it is so. It is natural to gather our food, fresh from the soil. But I am tamed and used to seeing it growing in quarantined plots or beneath the harsh, artificial lights inside a store.
