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!