A Little Extra Protein?

We just got back to Freetown from a week in the provinces. In Kamakwie, Kathy and I stayed in a room at the home of the Wesleyan missionary doctor and his wife. The members of the Freetown church stayed at a guest house just down the street. Several ladies from our church cooked some fabulous meals for us in the outdoor “kitchen” behind the guest house. It qualifies as a kitchen because that is where the cooking takes place, not by any structure that identifies it as a kitchen. According to the Sierra Leoneans (at least the ones we were with), “all good things take place in the kitchen.” (Hey, that’s just like at home, where everyone ends up gathering in the kitchen.)The rice and “soups” (or meat and sauces to pour over the rice) were cooked in pots balanced on three rocks over a small wood fire. A few things were cooked using small, portable coal stoves.

Tuesday morning, Kathy and I went to have our breakfast in the kitchen. They served freshly fried plantains with a yummy “gravy” of onions and peppers. There was a basket of fish smoking on a small stove, and Kathy and I both took a picture because it’s just not a common sight in America. I am always full of questions, so I asked Brother Bola about the fish in the basket. He identified several of the fish for me and told me we had brought them with us from Freetown. He said the fish had been bought already smoked but they were smoking them some more. Then he mentioned maggots and walked away to take care of something else. Kathy and I raised our brows and wondered aloud to each other if the fish was being smoked to prevent maggots or get rid of maggots. Neither of us was sure.

My grandmother used to say if you called a business and didn’t get the answer you wanted or expected you shouldn’t get upset. Just hang up and call back. Chances are you’ll talk to someone else who just might give you a different answer. I employ her method often – not only to get a favorable answer but also to get much-needed additional information. This was just such a moment. So I asked Mrs. Weekes, the “head chef,” about the fish being smoked in the basket. With a big smile, she said we’d brought them from Freetown, but they had to be cooked some more because they had maggots. Her response was perfect because it was delivered with a smile and matter-of-factness that suggested this was a normal occurrence. With full realization that she’s surely eaten “maggot fish” before, Kathy quickly muttered to me, “I’m not eating any fish in the soup today.” And she didn’t. For the record, the cassava leaves tasted the same as usual, and so did the fish. :) The neighborhood girls enjoyed it as well.

Truly, I did not intend for this blog to be a place to record all the stories to gross everyone out, but there are just so many “missionary adventures” to share with you! God bless!

Boxing Day 2008 - The Big Football Match

At home, I’ve often shopped for bargains the day after Christmas, but this year I “celebrated” Boxing Day for the first time. (Our missionary friends from the UK couldn’t tell us the origin of the holiday, so I celebrated Sierra Leonean-style - with sports.) Our house is in the Wilberforce area of Freetown. Wilberforce Village proper is located up the hill from our house. There is a primary school, a junior secondary school, and a large football (soccer) field in Wilberforce Village. One day when I was visiting with some of my neighbors on our street corner, one of the guys mentioned that there would be an entertaining football match in the morning on Boxing Day. It would be the Single people vs. the Married people, with no rules. It sounded like fun, so I made sure they’d include me when they went to the game.

So on Boxing Day, they knocked on our gate and I walked up the hill to the football field with Usman and Olaji and had a nice chat with them while we waited for the start of the “big match”. My friend Nana and her children Ishmael, Mariam, and Fatima joined us a little later. I had been warned that they didn’t allow the really skilled players to be part of the game. Plus, there really were very few rules enforced, just as Olaji had described. I saw a man hanging off the back of another man to keep him from the ball, a spectator kick a ball away that was headed toward a goal, and plenty of general chaos. The first match was for the ladies –Hilarious! No one had scored at the end of the game, so the women alternated penalty kicks until everyone had attempted to score. The married women beat the younger and more skilled (slightly) single women. Then the men played. This also was a scoreless match until the married men scored a goal about 2 minutes before the final whistle.

This annual match is a big deal. The field had been freshly outlined, a “set” (a sound system with speakers and a microphone) had been rented, and announcers called play-by-play. (It made me think of the announcing “talent” in Beaverton as displayed at summer camps and Family Days at Alpenrose Dairy! I know that made some of you smile.) The teams even had uniforms. A huge crowd was gathered for the match, and three police officers patrolled the area. We only stayed for the football matches, but I was told that there would be volleyball and basketball games following.

My “hosts” for the day fed me lunch during the second half of the men’s match. Usman’s auntie, whose second-story house and front porch overlooked the football field, made couscous and roasted pepper chicken. I walked down the hill toward home holding hands with Mariam and Fatima. It was a very fun day – in part because it was a shared experience with my new friends in this new culture, but also because my friends were enjoying themselves so much. Life can be really tough here, so I think the times of fun and laughter are savored even more.