How to Make a Fishball, No Better Way..., and Dangerous Culinary Endeavors

Quick Update

I have officially completed my "Community Entry" phase and so will be headed back to Thies for more training tomorrow morning. Although I'll have plenty of internet access there, I'll be incredibly busy with training, so this could be the last entry for a few weeks. That's why this one is so long.


How to Make a Fishball

- Boil some peanuts, let them cool, and shell them. This should be done ahead of time, preferably the day before.
- Put the peanuts in a massive mortar and pound them with a princely pestal. These are generally hand made from wood. You can hold the pestal with one hand and alternate if you wish, but two hands provide more power. While the pestal is on the upswing, briefly let go and clap to add flare.
- Sift the peanuts into a bowl and pound the larger parts again until all is well ground into a powder. Remove and set aside.
- Place one chopped onion and salt into mortar and pound into a paste.
- Add one tray of small, catfish-looking things and pound until of goop consistency, gradually adding the ground peanuts and some millet flour (also make earlier by pounding in a similar fashion to the peanuts).
- Mixture is finished when you can't see any recognizable part of a fish. Remove mixture, roll into balls. Fry in oil.
- Eat and enjoy. Bone crunching is optional, but I prefer to remove them as I find them (left hand only).

These are made on the special occasion that we have fish around, and served with our normal meal. The bones really bothered me at first, but I got used to them, and have even started crunching some of the smaller bones. I figure the calcium won't hurt.


No Better Way...

I went to visit a farmer in his orchard last week that the girl I had replaced had worked extensively with. When I arrived in his village, the kids told me he was out at his orchard, which is 3km from the village, so they showed me the way. He was excited to see me and show me around his orchard and then gave me a stool to sit on in the shade. Then we shared a snack: There is no better way to eat a Papaya than moments after a Senegalese farmer has picked it from his orchard and cut it up with a handmade knife.

The African Cup of Nations began group play this week, and a TV and generator miraculously appeared in my village. I had no idea they were there. There is no better way to watch an African international soccer game than crowded with 60 people into the same small hut, sharing a bamboo stool with three other guys, listening to the gentle purr of a generator.

Like many kids, I used to look out the window of airplanes and imagine myself jumping from cloud to cloud, in awe of their majesty.
The chief cash crop in my village is cotton. The farmers sow it, pick it, and transport it 4 km from there fields completely by hand. The only buyer in the area is a semi-private company named Sodefitex. This week, the Sodefitex truck showed up to pick up all the cotton my village had produced. All the men from the village worked from dawn to dusk loading ton after ton of cotton into the tall truck trailer, which was open on top. As half of the men carried the cotton to the truck and threw it on top, the other half stood on top and walked around on the cotton to pack it down. I helped out on top. Then came break time: There is no better way to take a nap than on a truck load of cotton. My imagination has been put to rest. I have slept on a cloud.


Dangerous Culinary Endeavors

When I was in training in Thies in October, my family bought and killed a goat for the family to eat. The meat lasted us for a couple of nights, but got progressively less familiar with each meal. On the third night I sat down to a bowl of rice with a goats face in the middle, smiling up at me. My host brothers tore whatever they could of the meat off of the skeleton, and put some pieces in front of me. I'm fairly confident I tried eye for the first time, but I really can't be sure.

A goat's face, however, did not trip my stomach. I readily ate everything they put in front of me in Thies. The dangerous endeavor came a couple months later in Kolda at Christmas time.

My friend Jordan and I prepared a meal for the other people in the regional house we were staying in. I prepared the salad, with grated carrots, chipped cucumbers, and sliced tomatoes. Those who know me well are likely aware that although I will cook with tomatoes, I gag at their very smell and have only eaten them raw twice in my life. As I sliced them for the salad I explained to Jordan that they were the only food in the world I refused to eat. He asked me if it was a texture thing or the taste, and I replied that it was neither, that it was more likely a psychological issue. Suddenly, something came over me and I felt empowered. "Listen to me!" I cried, "I will eat the face off a goat but cower in the presence of a small red fruit!" (Or is it a vegetable?). With that I popped a slice into my mouth, chewed it, and even pretended to enjoy it. Yes mom, I now eat tomatoes. Aren't you proud?


Malinke Lesson of the Day

Malinke only has one word that means both "if" and "when": nin. So "nin inaata Thies" means both "When you arrive in Thies" and "If you arrive in Thies." I think the reason behind this is that they put everything in God's hands, and so nothing is certain until it has happened.

This is Andy signing off, I'll try to write a quick post in Thies, otherwise, you'll hear from me at the end of Febuary, if and when I come back to Kedougou.

Love Andy