Caterpillars?

Months and months ago... yes, it's been impossible to blog about it before now because the internet would NEVER allow me to load the pictures... I went to Zimbabwe for my long-term visa. While I was there, I took advantage of the opportunity to shop for things that are just not found in Moz.

Bag of bugs! Yum!

The aisles and aisles of goodies in the local supermarket were startlingly cheap and I confess I went all out.

The thing is... they had things I'd never seen before. The most surprising of these options were caterpillars.

Hard.    Spiky.    Crusty.    Dried up caterpillars in a bag.

I picked it up to make sure my eyes were not playing games with my mind. Peering through the plastic, I inspected one black creepy crawly after the other until I was convinced.

The crawlers before they were cooked

A black man stocking the shelf beside me caught my eye and I turned to him for help.
-- "Is this really what I think it is?" I asked innocently. "Are these caterpillars?"
He smiled, nodded his head, then said, "Yes. They are really tasty."
-- "Tasty huh?" I said with a smile. "But how do you eat them? Do you just eat them like chips... out of the bag?"
-- "No, no, no," he laughed, taking the bag of critters from my hands, "You cook them first. They are delicious. I always have a bag full in my car for snacks."
-- "Really?" I said with excitement (I'm always looking for new, crazy foods), "Can you tell me how?"
He smiled wider, assuring me it was simple and taking me through the steps one by one.

Caterpillar Recipe: 

Step One~
Soak, then boil the caterpillars until they are soft.

Step Two~
Boil them so they get cleaned out and turn rubbery. 

Step Three~
Dice onions and tomatoes and whatever else you think will be tasty. 

Step Four~
Strain the softened caterpillars and toss out the water.

Step Five~
Sautee onions and caterpillars in a saucepan, seasoning with salt and pepper. 

Step Six~
Add the tomatoes, keeping heat low so it does not burn.

Step Seven~
Dish them up and enjoy! 

Fun note: I found them to be wetter (and chewier) than I expected from the store clerks recipe. So I asked a Zimbabwean friend what I did wrong. His reply was that it was perfect, but if I wanted snacks for the road, I'd have to fry them longer.

(Optional) Step Eight~
Fry in more oil, until crispy.














Note: So I did what I was told... but I fried them too long and got this.

Step Nine~
Enjoy with gusto! 

Side Note: As I'm sure you can see... they look exactly like they did out of the bag. So I can only assume that I overcooked them.

However, my Zimbabwean friends didn't mind at all. Nor did I. Honestly, I found them better when crispy. They are easier to chew.

So there you have it. Once again, I'm convinced that any bug is yummy if deep fried long enough!       

Moral of the story: Some people eat chicken. Some people eat steak. And some people eat... caterpillars?  
             ---Yum!

Not All Storm Clouds Rain...

In August, I made a purchase of a deep freezer. It's small and fits in the corner of my kitchen, allowing me the privilege of buying meat once a week --rather than having to buy it day after day.

After pricing things out, I discovered it was heaps cheaper to buy an animal and have it dressed than to buy it in the supermarket.

(I'm not ready to buy it from the outdoor market yet... the flies and blood stained wooden counters somehow throw me off.)

So I asked around and found someone who was selling pigs... and went to meet him.

Chris is a Catholic friar from Louisiana with a background in agriculture. He's been working in Mozambique for about two years and was disappointed to find out that very few Mozambicans are willing to eat pork.

However, I was not upset by this news because it meant that he had an excess of pork... and was more than willing to off load it for cheap.

How to buy a pig in Mozambique ~

Day one: Meet Chris and select the white beast for execution. Ask one of his workers to butcher it in exchange for all the offal and feet.     ---What a bargain! 

Day two: Go pick up my shaved and slaughtered pig, then notice a number of goats for sale... ask about the price of goats and a broken container. Take home my pig in nice happy sections and pile it neatly in my freezer --with the head on top staring through the zip lock bag! 



Day three: Go back for a (live) goat and the broken water container (which Chris was willing to part with for free and will be used, God willing, in an aquaponics project).

Easy. Peasy.

After buying my goat, I asked the Chris and the other Mozambican staff for name suggestions (since she was intended as a pet rather than dinner) but no one was willing to name her. But as I was about to leave another friar showed up, Andres from Spain, and he suggested I call her "Storm Cloud" since her white and grey coat resembled the stormy evening quick approaching.

I agreed that would be a good name for her... and quickly dubbed her Nebulada (or Storm Cloud in Portuguese).



We piled her on the trailer, tying her to the inside of the broken container and off we went. But instead of raining... this Storm Cloud bleated.
         ---She bleated all the way home!

Clearly... not all Storm Clouds rain.

Bonus: I'm happy to announce Nebulada is pregnant! I watch her belly expand with interest wondering if she'll be my first Mozambican delivery!
  
He he he... We'll just have to wait and see. Won't we?

Life in Pictures: June & July

 

This beautiful chameleon was brought to me by Danny, my neighbor's son. He remembered from my last visit that I like them. But learning from past experiences, I decided not to bring him into my home (there are fortunately not enough bugs for him to enjoy inside). Instead, I placed him on the tree out front. He stayed four days, then meandered off. 

This funeral procession left the local hospital. Driving slowly behind, we could hear them singing worship songs. Remarkably, the deceased was in a real hearse.

It is tomato season right now... but despite the massive amounts being sold on each side, no one has discounted them. They are, in fact, MORE expensive than ever. I wonder if Mozambicans street venders fully grasp the concept of supply and demand?

Yummy tomatoes!

Not long ago, Nana (the lovely septuagenarian in orange) had her children visiting. It was the first time all four of them have been together in a long time. As a result, we called them forward at church and prayed over them all.

Market Shopping!

Shopping in Mozambique can be much like in the West. There are supermarkets with neatly packaged boxes and over priced cans. And yes, sometimes I shop there.

But when I have a choice, I much prefer the outdoor market.

This is where I find my dried fish, canisters of beans, and bags of potatoes. Plus, veggies and fruits of varying ripeness are piled high for the picking. I like that.



At first sight of all the wonderful beans... the Mexican in me started to drool. I honestly bought enough beans to feed me for three months! Assuming they last that long! (The weevles have found them!)
 

But what I love best about the outdoor market is the price. I can buy a week's worth of fruits and veggies for under $10 dollars.

Now that's what I'm talkin' about!!! 

Name that fruit?

 

The other day I bought a mystery fruit in the market. Roughly the size of a potato with smooth, waxy skin covered in spikes, this fruit immediately caught my eye.

I like trying new fruit. Heck... let’s face it. I like trying new things. Period.

So... naturally, I picked up a couple to taste.

Cutting them open reminded me of a squash with only seeds. But instead of pulpy flesh, I was welcomed with a refreshing, grassy, slime that tasted a lot like jello.

Green jello to be precise. Except this green jello had a bit more texture.

I have to say, I’d happily buy it again. But next time, I’d put it in the fridge before I serve it.

Warm, crunchy, green jello just doesn’t sit quite right.

If jello needs to be crunchy... it best be cold.
       --Just sayin’.

Question: Anyone have any idea what this fruit is named? I seriously don’t know where to start looking? My dictionary is woefully lacking in the spiky, fruit department.

Coffee and Friends.

 

After last year’s elections, Christina returned to South Sudan from Khartoum to find a new life. Even though she spoke no Dinka --having spent the better part of her life in the North-- she knew that her future was here.

So she packed up her children and came.

I first met her last fall, after she stumbled across our church one Sunday. She was overcome with joy to find a Bible believing church just a stone’s throw from her tukel, and has been coming regularly ever since.

Even though our church service is in English and Dinka (not Arabic), she comes for the fellowship and the worship. When I hear her raise her voice in song, I can’t help but delight in her faithfulness.

She’s a joy to know --even if I can’t understand what she’s saying.

Recently, I found the location of her tea shop in town and have been frequenting it regularly. I take anyone who’ll join me so I can practice the handful of Arabic words that she’s taught me, and drink ‘boon’.

‘Boon’ means coffee, which for Sudan means thick, sweet, sirup-y goop that looks like tar but tastes like heaven. She mixes fresh ginger in with the grounds along with a medley of other spices. I asked once which ones, but no one knew the words in English.

I think there might be cinnamon and cardamon, but I’m absolutely sure there’s ginger. Lots of spicy ginger!

My second favorite drink is the hibiscus tea. It’s velvety smooth and refreshing on a hot afternoon. Plus, it’s less likely to keep me up all night!

This week in an effort to say my goodbyes, I went to see Christina one last time. She was surprised to learn that I was leaving but encouraged me to return as soon as possible.

-- “I don’t have plans to come back right away,” I explained, “But if God wills it, I’ll return and speak to you in Arabic.”

She smiled at the thought and said, “Before you go, I want to give you an Arabic name.”
-- “Really?” I asked excitedly, “You have an Arabic name for me?”
-- “Yes. I want to give you the name Nadie (Nah-DEE-Ay).”
-- “I love it!” I said after slowly rolling the sounds around in my mouth. “What does Nadiee mean?”
-- “Nadiee is the name of a beautiful flower.”
-- “Excellent,” I said grinning ear to ear, “Thank you for this honor.”

I don’t know what it is... but when someone names me in a new language, I get excited. It often means I have a new language to learn! And believe me... Sudanese Arabic is high on my lists of languages to learn next.

I’m going to miss the ginger coffee and sticky sweet teas... but I’m going to miss this sweet lady more.

Winterzauber Wonders!

With the crisp zing of winter come holiday traditions and flavors --and in Germany that means glühwein, poffertjes, and kartoffelpuffer. I was delighted to discover these treats for the first time at various Christkindmärkte (aka: Christmas Markets).

Glühwein and Feuerzangenbowle are both different kinds of spiced wine. The glühwein can be served with an extra shot of liquor --Amaretto, Calvados, or the like -- but it is lovely without it.

The Feuerzangenbowle, I’m told, has a stronger flavor since it’s made by pouring the heated wine through a funnel of crystallized sugar, infusing it with a slightly burnt sugar flavor.


 
Poffertjes are silver-dollar shaped potato pancakes topped with melted butter and copious amounts of powered sugar. Be careful though eating this dessert in the wind! If not you’ll look frosted yourself!


 
Kartoffelpuffer or what some call Reibekuchen, are deep-fried potato hash. Recipes differ somewhat. Some are made by mixing grated potatoes in batter and others are just potatoes hammered flat and cooked to a crisp. Either way, they are served with slightly sweetened apple sauce.



My favorite winterfest treat though had to be the cheese filled sausage, käsekrainer. It had to be folded in half to fit the bun! It’s sweet yet spicy flavor burst out in every bite! (I didn't get a picture of the sausage... I ate it too fast. Ha!)

Whether deep-fried, dusted in sugar, or oozing cheese, it’s delicious! Germans certainly know how to celebrate Christmas!

Name That Fruit!

We have a number of fruit trees on the compound --most of which are easily identifiable.

Mango. Papaya. Banana. Lemon.

But there is one tree which produces a knobby, green, wart-like cluster that I cannot seem to identify.

Last year when they were in season I didn’t recognize them as food and thus didn’t pick any. However the Africans on the compound ate them with gusto.

I remember asking to try them but not being impressed (at the time). Eating it was too much work.

Why?

Well... the fruit is picked when green. Then it must ripen for several days. Once ripe it squishes to the touch and can be torn open. Inside is a treasure trove of black seeds covered in sweet, slightly-textured slime.    

Yum!

I asked its name but nobody seems to know for sure. The best guess I got was Custard Fruit.

Does that sound right to you all? Anyone out there know for sure? I’m in love with a new fruit and need to know its name! 

Cooking Up a Storm!

My time off has been pretty chill so far. I have to admit I’ve done little more than sleep, eat and catch up on emails.

A sad way to spend a vacation... but refreshing nonetheless!

The friends I’m staying with have been gems. In addition to putting up with my longer-than-expected-visit, they have let me take their kitchen hostage and cook to my heart’s delight.

Can I just say... I’ve missed cooking!

So far we’ve had sun-dried tomato stuffed chicken breasts, sausage pasta, two different types of apple tarts, a number of couscous salads, hamburgers with an Asian coleslaw. And tonight, I’m making a Filipino fish recipe!

Oh, and I’ve been on a hummus kick, too.  A few days ago, I soaked too many chickpeas and had to do something with them. So I made three different types of hummus. But no one seems to be complaining!

We all love hummus!

So... if you are wondering what I’ve been doing with my time. Imagine me in the kitchen surrounded by fresh ingredients and exotic spices!        -- Culinary heaven!

Table for Four.

Yesterday, shortly after landing, figuring out my visa-fiasco, and doing a bit of grocery shopping, Sabet, Albino, Awad, and I decided to have lunch.

Pulling up next to a place that Sabet said had ‘the best beans in town’, reminded me instantly of Tijuana. I don’t know why. Flash backs of crispy fish tacos sprang to mind and I started drooling.

But this place wasn’t Mexican. It was Ethiopian.

“What would Ethiopian beans taste like?” I wondered. I guess it was time to find out.

The shop was slow, as it was two in the afternoon. The lunch crowd had apparently come and gone... or quite simply had never come. We were the only customers.

Empty tables --decorated with salt trays, toothpick dispensers, and flies-- were scattered randomly around the room. On the left, five men sat in a semi-circle next to an un-used outdoor grill; they talked softly as we washed our hands in the buckets provided. Behind them, a number of large aluminum pots sat humming over a low heat.

In the back of the main room, a young man rested obliquely in a white plastic chair --one leg up on the handle. Apparently, it was his job to guard the icebox.

Choosing a lop-sided table to his right, Albino and I sat down, whereas Awad and Sabet sauntered over to a man-behind-the-desk; they had to order.

After discussing dishes and prices, Sabet pulled out some money.

-- Albino, are they ordering for us?
-- Yes, here you pay. Then you eat.
-- Oh. So they don’t have menus.
-- No.

Albino is a man of few words, and I think he had just run out.

He’s the kind of son-in-law every mother dreams of-- Kind, patient and great with kids. (He should be though.... as he has so many, I’ve lost count.) He has done a number of jobs for In Deed and Truth over the years. Right now, he translates at church and does the odd job around the compound. His English is excellent.

Once the order was paid for, Sabet and Awad made it back to the table. We had the right to a soda. What kind did I want?

The options were: apple flavored sugar water, mango flavored sugar water, a cola imitation or Vims. Sabet said Vims was similar to Dr. Pepper.

I chose the mango flavored sugar water, and smiled at the first sip. It definitely tasted like mango.... and it was cold.  --So double bonus!

Lunch was served family-style. 

We had yellow sop, brown sop, chunks of fatty meat and chopped, raw onions. In the center, a fried omelette swam in a half-inch vat of oil. And then there was bread... lots of bread as silverware.

We prayed, licked our lips, and dug in.

The yellow sop turned out to be lentils, and the brown was pinto beans -- neither of which was salted. In fact, none of it was salted or seasoned, so I added the white gold liberally. It was palatable after that.

I think I like the goat meat the most. Despite seeing its other half still hanging in the middle of the room, I have to admit it was tasty. But then again, I don’t mind bones and gristle.

Once we had downed our oily eggs and salted sop, and nibbled all the meat off the bone chunks, it was time to go. Washing our hands, we made our way back to the truck. It was time for the ride home.

I wish I could describe the road from Rumbek to Tonj but I don’t remember much. By then, I was doggedly tired; I fell asleep a few miles into it.

When we hit a large rock... checking if tires were still good.

The seventy-five mile trek normally takes five hours, but they have been fixing the road. The potholes that usually make it unbearable have been filled in... all but a few miles of it. However, those last few miles sure give you a beating!

Mounds of dirt they are using to fix road.

Remarkably, it only took us 2h30 to return.

Now, I’m home.

While I was away, I’m told that the antenatal program... and the clinic, had a doozy of a month. There were 15 births -- three of which died-- two women came in with eclampsia and one woman with a stillbirth.

Yesterday, one baby was born with a crushed skull. She was the same woman who was hit by a car four months ago and had a broken leg. There is some confusion as to whether or not the baby’s death could be due to the car accident. Read her story here and pray for all involved.

I also learned that a young boy died after being bit by a poisonous snake, and a girl of 15 was diagnosed with a imperforate vagina!

Oh... and Mary, the woman who got the mastectomy, delivered a healthy boy at home. They named him Thomas (after Dr. Tom who did the surgery)! Woohoo!

Please pray for all these strange cases. Please pray for all the heartaches involved. Also, lift up the staff, and pray for strength in these coming weeks.

Pray for me too... pray for wisdom in how to move forward in evangelism and service to this community. Thanks.

Green Mango Eaters~

So all the locals -- Kenyans and Sudanese, I mean -- have been chomping away at the multitude of unripe mangoes popping up on trees. I wondered about these Green Mango Eaters, something had to be off in their heads to eat unripe fruit. In the States, unripe mangoes taste like flavorless, stringy blah.  I mean... come on! Why would you willingly eat that? If I eat a mango at all, I want it ripe.

But these guys kept insisting that green mangoes were good, so I thought I’d give it a go -- African Style. They eat them skin and all, like apples, so I decide to as well.

Sinking my teeth through the tender skin, I crunched away on all the crisp, semi-tart mango-ness. It was good. No. It was excellent! I’m happy to report, I’m now a green mango eater too!

Yellow Squishy Fruit.

Papaya season is here, meaning every papaya tree on the compound is pregnant with football sized yellowing fruit. Some branches still carry deep green bundles. But under the Sudanese sun, they don’t stay that way for long.

We try picking them just before they fully ripen. If we wait too long we can’t get them down intact. But when we do, they are well worth the effort. Their orange fleshy silkiness is divine.

To get them down from the tree tops, we have to prod them with a long pole and then catch them in a box. We had three attempts yesterday. All three missed the box and hit the ground.... oops! They were eaten anyway. Yum!

Getting in the Christmas Spirit...

This week we (meaning all the remaining missionaries) have been celebrating Christmas Sudanese Style. That means Advent candles, Christmas stockings and two plastic trees. We have tried singing Christmas carols but it's comically atrocious. We can't seem to hit those high notes. We just end up rasping away and laughing it off -- at least we are singing.

To get in the mood we watched 'Christmas Vacation' and drank home-made eggnog! It was DE-lici-OUS! And today we made sugar cookies and frosted them for our staff Christmas party tomorrow. I wanted so much to start eating them now... but then what would we serve tomorrow?

I hope you are all having a wonderful Christmas... wherever you are in the world!

2nd Degree Missionary...

During lunch I found a bug baked into my bread. I quietly dug it out and threw it away.... then finished eating my sandwich. Big deal. A bug. It wasn’t alive or anything. It wasn’t hissing at me or trying to bore into my skin. I thought nothing of it.

But later, I told my roomie, Rachael, about it and she laughed. She said I was now officially a second degree missionary! Never having heard this term before, I asked her to explain.

She said that during her first missions trip to Africa, the director told her there are three kinds of missionaries.

~ A 1st degree missionary: Sees a bug in her food, gets grossed out, refuses to eat it... or at least the food it was touching.

~ A 2nd degree missionary: Sees a bug in her food, picks it out and eats on! You must eat to survive.

~ A 3rd degree missionary: Sees a bug in her food, decides it must be food. Eats it and smiles.

What kind of missionary are you?

Frankly, between us.... I’m not sure I want to be a third degree missionary... unless we are talking about deep fried crickets.... or chocolate covered ants.... or pan fried termites....  Yum!

Sweet as honey!

One of the translators brought us a gift recently -- sticky sweet wild flower honey. It’s the fist time I’ve ever had it still in the comb. It was amazing! Chewing on it reminded me of God’s version of gum.

Can-buch-what? and the ‘Bean Sprout of life’.

When the nearest grocery store is 4 hours away, you tend to look at food a bit differently. Everything becomes intentional. You have to intend to eat that day. You have to wake up with a bit of determination and a lot of gumption. You have to think outside the rice crispy cereal box.

Such is my new life.

I’m not saying that I drink cows milk straight from the teat or slaughter monkeys for meat. In fact, I (thankfully) don’t have to think much about food. We have a wonderful cook who deals with that. But... for her, cooking means canned beans and toast.

Now, please do not think I’m complaining here. Because I am not. We eat very well in Tonj and I’m very thankful for it! I’m just saying... when the nearest grocery store is hours away, you tend to look at food differently. Yes, you even become a bit more intentional.

So, what are my intentions? Well these days, it’s Kambucha and Bean Sprouts.

Let me explain.

Kambucha for those who are unfamiliar is a chinese fungus that you culture in sweet tea for a week and a half until it ferments and grows even more fungus. This beautiful, petulant and freaky beverage is full of billions of little lactobacilli. It’s super healthy and yummy to boot! Love the stuff! (Side note: I actually found this in Kenya! Unbelievable but true! Thank you random health food store! You rock!)
 
The bean sprouts are another story. A friend gave me the starter kit and told me to grow my own bean sprouts in Africa. I didn’t know what to think at first but I’ve done it a few times and I love it! There is something extra special about having little plants grow on your window sill. It’s even better when you get to eat them.

So... there you have it. Two of my new coping mechanisms. They may seem strange to you. But to me they are the spice of life... achem... I mean the bean sprout of life!

Shiro Me a little of that!

Dinner last night! Yum. Shiro not shown.

Think heavy incense. Think flat fermented bread. Think little piles of spiced meats and over cooked veggies. Think eating with your fingers and loving every bite. That's Ethiopian food.

Habisha is a favorite local haunt by missionaries and locals alike. It's like stepping into another country with a log fire to one side of the patio and hanging rugs all around. I've been twice... and will return regularly.

My favorite part of the meal is the roasted rosemary goat meat and the shiro (a spicy garbanzo bean purree). I've determined to learn how to make it myself... even master the art! So I've found a few recipes online. The trick will be finding the ingredients.

Gormet-ish directions for this Vegan Yummy-ness!

Directions for making Shiro at home!

Is Nausea Contagious?

Today was a woozie. I can’t tell if it was the heat, the endless line of prenatals or the soup I had for lunch but I was sure I was going to hurl on my patients at one point. I couldn’t focus enough to get my words straight. I wanted to pass out. Pray for me. I hope it nothing more than a bit of dehydration. I’ve only had 3 liters of fluids today! That must not have been enough.

I guess there are other reasons for nausea but some don’t quite fit. I know I’m not pregnant (he he he) and I’m hoping beyond hope that I’ve not picked up some kind of bug.

Even now, I’m still ready to give up my lunch. Anyone want to send me some saltine crackers? (ha!)

Of Bats and Mangos.

On the north side of the compound tower two large mango trees, lush and regal. They are bigger than any mango trees I’ve ever seen before, easily standing four stories tall. Their branches are loaded-- but not with mangos.

Instead these trees house dozens of bats.

You wouldn’t guess it during the day, but come dusk they start to dip and dive. They dart spastically in a drunken feast on the mosquito and flying termites population. (Thank God!) But sometimes they get a little side-tracked.

The other day, one found its’ way into my room. This didn’t bother me much, as I have a tender spot for flying rats. But my bunkmate, Jessica, had a different view. She is not much for anything crawly or bug shaped. And I have recently assumed the role of ‘Bug-squasher’.

So when Dracula came calling, I had to reassure her somewhat. I refused to chase this ‘slightly larger’ bug away as he was ridding me of pests. So we tried to sit still and wait for him to find the door on his own.

He circled a few times and landed a few times. I think it was a lot harder for Jessica than for me to wait him out. But eventually we ignored him and went on with our reading. I was surprised to look up from my book a few minutes later to find the room ‘bat-less’. They sure are quiet.

I wonder if I’ll have to fight them for a proper mango when mango season starts. I guess I’ll have to wait until next February and see.