If Ever You Need Perspective

If ever you need to feel humbled, move to Africa. Imagine moving your entire home full of belongings into a truck for Africa and your feelings at opening all of your items among people who make 100 dollars a month at best. We found ourselves in this position last weekend, when our container finally arrived -four months late, and just in time for Christmas. I was tickled after feeling months of desperation for the things we so "terribly" needed to make home feel like home.  As our gardener's wife helped us to wash all of our kitchenware I suddenly became acutely aware of my privilege.  I felt my face burn as I had Jesca wash boxes and boxes of things like our Parmesan cheese grater, ice cream scoops, and sushi dishes, the likes of which she had never seen, let alone been able to afford.  I quickly shut the door to the rest of the house, filled with containers and Jonas' newly discovered toys strewn about.  I opened the rest of our boxes with curtains closed while I thought about Jesca's boys playing in the yard with their stitched-together grocery-bag ball and felt a large dose of humbleness in my heart.

 

If ever you need to see the humor in things, move to Africa.  Among other things Jonas and I have been looking forward to, a bike and carrier have been on the top of the list.  We typically walk about four km a day on dusty paths and shoulders of roads in mid-day African heat.  I was tickled to finally have our bikes arrive, newly purchased just for our African commute.  What I didn't expect, though, was how humored all of the local Shona would be with our bikes.  Apparently a white woman zipping around town in a bulky bicycle helmet with a giant trailer wheeling behind her, helmeted baby trapped inside, is reason to stop and smile, to sometimes point, and almost always to always yell, "Mangwanani!  I like your bike!"  I am joyously laughed at with awe so often I preemptively start laughing at myself now whenever I pass someone.

 

If ever you need to feel cynical, move to Africa. Kurt and I checked each numbered item that came off our moving truck as six men labored in long sleeve uniforms in place of ramps and dollies.  As the last piece found its way into the house, the head mover and Kurt looked at each other.  "There is a lot missing," they agreed.  We went through the lists again, having the movers unwrap every piece of furniture to make sure no package was stuck inside another.  When the movers finally left, we spent the rest of the weekend ripping open boxes at an exhaustive pace, rather than with joyful discovery, trying to recall what and how our American movers had packed, and writing down almost $40,000 worth of stolen items.  Everything from electronics to a computer to table legs to design work to the 75 Christmas ornaments Jonas and I made together last year to the ten books I had handmade for each year of our marriage landed on the list. It rarely happens, though a pair of our friends had the same situation. The items were all accounted for when we arrived in the country, but four months of visa waiting later, seals were broken and bonded storage turned out to be, well, not so bonded.  We are currently dealing with insurance claims and explaining to Jonas why he now has no tricycle or bicycle. Training wheels, yes.  Bicycle, no.  

 

If ever you need to feel gratitude, move to Africa.  I set aside some of the paper packaging and boxes from our move for Jonas.  He wanted paper to draw on and boxes to build a fort. Upon leaving, the movers asked if they could take the mountain of bubble wrap sheets that had been taken off our large furniture items.  I thanked them, saying, "absolutely," so we would not have to burn the plastic in our yard.  Our gardener pulled me aside hurriedly and whispered, "Madame, can I keep it? I can sell it. People need beds."  I had totally forgotten that many of those who are not fortunate to have mattresses here sleep on scavenged cardboard and, if they're lucky, paper and bubble wrap.  My trash was just what others had been hoping for.  My bed has washed a wave of gratitude over me each time I've walked past it this week.

 

If you ever want to feel joy for the simple things, move to Africa. I have a favorite family Jonas and I pass every day on our trek; they are squatters who live among the foundational outlines of an incomplete house two streets from us.  We shout out greetings to each other and our babies whenever we cross paths.  (When they first encountered me zipping past on our bike, the father shouted, "HA!  So much betta!  Yo bike is very clever! I see you go fast!  Ha ha ha! Go fast baby!")  They are the happiest family I've seen. The family can be seen doing their laundry in a wheel-less wheelbarrow every afternoon.  One day I passed at an atypical time and watched the mother run full speed from a water spigot to the wheelbarrow, water pouring from the bottom of a holey bucket.  She got a few cups worth into the wheelbarrow, then turned around and started back to the spigot once again.  The beautiful part?  She was laughing the whole way.

If ever you need to feel conflicted, move to Africa. The one most important thing, we were warned by the school, is to never give away from your gate.  If you make the mistake of giving from your door, people will know where to find you.  And their relatives.  And their friends.  Over and over again.  Soon it will be hard to get out of your home.  So when an elderly man came to our gate last weekend asking for money and Kurt, who like myself believes in the value of giving, lovingly said, "Sure, just a moment," into the buzzer, I jumped down his throat.  ((This is after I encountered a begging woman last week that has been returning unwelcome to our next door neighbor's gate for over ten years after she was once helped out when she needed assistance for her sick baby. I admit I heartbreakingly wished her many blessings and denied her the money I recognized she desperately needed in a tactic of self-preservation I have felt guilty about ever since.))  Kurt and I then hissed back and forth with hushed voices about what to do, as he had just led the man to believe he was going out promptly, but I recognized that it would be me trying to get him away from our gate the next time he came and Kurt was at school.  While the man waited, our sad discussion turned to conversation about how we want so desperately to answer the human condition here with a loving approach, that we want to treat all human beings as though they were God themselves, and how much we resent living in a place where the rules of how to live keep our lives safe but make us feel as though we aren't living at the same time.  No matter how we chose, the discomfort of the situation remains present.  In the end, Kurt went out to the gate.  

If ever you need to feel certain, move to Africa. People ask me all the time if I regret moving to Africa, after such a challenging last few months filled with car accidents and visa issues.  My answer is always the same.  

"Never. Look at how much I've learned."

Milk Tarts

New African foods, continued...

Meet the milk tart:

In the land of MSG, meat pie is everywhere.  Here it's usually a salty, hard crusted lead weight full of MSG and Grade D meat that is so unpalatable most of the time, I couldn't even bring myself to write an entire blog entry about it.  So I decided to write about something good that also comes in a shell here... milk tarts, sometimes referred to as cream tarts. Found in local coffee shops and bakeries throughout countries in southern Africa, the cream tart is a superior version of flan or custard... It has all of the qualities and textures of those two, but the egg, cream, and sugar combination comes in a sweet flaky crust with nutmeg and cinnamon on top.  It is also one of the cheapest desserts to be found.  Highly recommended.

Here Jonas reaches for his third cream tart at a coffee shop.

Don't worry.  He will finish it.

Dryvors and Biltong

New African Foods Week, continued:

 This post is dedicated to Andy and Jonny and all the other heroic vegetarians in my life...

Meet droewors (pronunced dry-vors) and biltong:

  

Biltong is a cured meat originally from South Africa.  It is usually made from meat cut into strips, spiced, and dried.  Unlike jerky, biltong is not sweet, and is much thicker than jerky.  It can also be made from a number of different meats including game, ostrich, chicken, or fish. Most often, though, beef biltong is easiest to find.  

 The meat has remained popular despite modern day cooling in Africa. There are biltong bars and stores in South Africa devoted solely to selling numerous flavors of biltong. Aside from different flavors, one can get different fat contents of biltong, as well as "wet" (moist-almost gooey), "medium", or "dry" (hard as a rock.) It is most often eaten plain, or cut up in muffins.  Biltong is also the primary thing parents in southern Africa use for teething babies.  It's hilarious to walk down the street and see a drooling baby with a hunk of black meat hanging from its mouth.  

Biltong is pretty tough for Jonas to eat in more than tiny pieces.  His favorite thing to eat from the butcher is something called droewors...

  

A popular South African snack food, droewars is made from (what will have to be a different entry someday) boerwers sausage that is corriander-seed spiced.  These dried sausages are not stored in the refrigerator, but instead make a great snack to put in a backpack when going on a long hike.  They usually come in approximately foot long lengths, and are typically beef.  They are still chewy, but much easier to eat than biltong.

Below is a biltong/droewors platter served at a local restaurant.  It makes me a bit queasy looking at it... biltong and droewors are palatable in moderation, but this is a bit too much for me...

Forget the vegetables... here are some nuts as a side dish!

Litche

New African Food Week, continued:

I'm cheating a little on this one, because this is not just an African food.  But it is new to us here living in Africa, so please let it slide...

Meet litche, also known as lychee: Litche is a subtropical fruit originally found in Asia. It is usually eaten by itself rather than being in other products.  We were first introduced to this fruit in juice form.  Here in southern Africa, litche juice is often combined with apple juice or pear juice for a super sweet taste. The fruit can also be found canned or dried year round.  As litche came into season a few weeks ago here, markets are now inundated with fresh versions of the golf-ball sized fruit.

Lychees start as a pinkish-green, but in the refrigerator they turn to a dark brown.  

The interior, however, is always white.  The peels are the thickness of avocado skin, though they are bumpy on the outside.

Here a blurry Jonas holds an entirely peeled litche up to the camera before eating it.  The litche has the texture of a large peeled grape with a sweet taste all its own. 

Inside is a smooth pit that is said to be poisonous if eaten.

One can buy litches by the bagful at markets in southern Africa.  We bought Jonas a bag, of which he ate the entire thing in a day.  We bought him a second bag, which he looked at and said, "No thanks."  He's never eaten one again.  Apparently one can get too much of a good thing!

Rooibos

New African foods, continued:

Meet Rooibos (pronounced roy-bus by the local whites here, and roy-bahs by the Shona):

Known as "the red drink," rooibos is the most popular kind of tea, and hence one of the most popular drinks, in southern Africa.  (At 10:30 and 3:00 daily, the country stops for tea.)

Most think that rooibos serves as another reminder of British colonialism's tie to our country.  The tea, however, was being drunk in Africa for centuries before the British or Dutch settlers ever arrived and encouraged its production. It grows only in a small part of the Western Cape of South Africa, but is gaining wide popularity throughout the world as studies uncover its health related potential.  The tea is naturally caffeine-free and has oodles of health benefits: http://inhumanexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/04/many-health-benefits-of-rooibos-tea.html  Look at your store; I bet they have it!

Jonas, a mad tee drinker, was introduced to rooibos from his Grandma and Grandpa Miller this summer, who had brought a love for the red drink back with them to Iowa after a visit to South Africa decades ago.  Here in Africa Jonas loves his daily rooibos one of four ways....  It is great warm or iced, but most commonly Jonas drinks sun tea.  Every day we fill two glass jars with water and a rooibos tea bag, then set Jonas loose in the yard to find a sunny spot.  (When we're feeling lazy-below-a sunny kitchen window works!) Within five minutes of African sun, voila, it is done.

 

Jonas' favorite way to drink rooibos, though, was discovered during our most recent trip to South Africa (aka "visa purgatory.") The latest craze in Capetown is red cappuccinos and red espressos.  Never thought I'd be giving my three year old a cappuccino, but it was literally just foamed milk and (no caffeine) rooibos with a touch of honey.  Delicious.

Now my three ear old wakes up in the morning asking for cappuccino.  Lord, what have I done?!

Lamingtons

New African foods, continued:

Meet the Lamington.

Lamingtons are a reminder that our African country's white culture has tight ties with, among other previously British colonies/countries, Australia.  Australian in origin, these little desserts contain a square of sponge cake inside.  They are covered in a layer of chocolate frosting, then rolled in dessicated coconut.  In South Africa, they can be seen being sold by scouts, the way American scouts sell cookies. Here in our African country, they can be found most prevalently in coffee shops as a petite desert served during tea time.

Chocolate is expensive and special in our country (if you're sending us a package, don't forget the chocolate chips!), and we have found Lamingtons here to be a touch smaller than those in other countries possibly because of this. (The one above, pictured from a local cafe, is about 1 1/2" x 1 1/2".)

   

Occasionally Lamingtons have cream or jam spread through the middle.

Though they're not my favorite, one living here never turns down a special opportunity to have chocolate!

Baobab

We're heading to a friend's for a Thanksgiving dinner for 60, and it's inspired me to do another week of new foods. (So pardon the plethora of emails if you're automatically subscribed.)

We've been experiencing a lot of new foods here in Africa, some for better, some for worse.  Whenever I research a new food (have to make sure it's safe to eat!) I have found most of them are described in the same way: "untapped potential."  The infrastructure, shipping, manufacturing, etc, in many African countries does not allow for some of its unique foods to easily make their way to other parts of the world.  Yet if they did, there are estimated to be billions of dollars these African countries could be making on their produce.  One such product is baobab.

Meet the baobab tree:  

(White Zimbabweans pronounce it "bay-oh-bab", while the Shona pronounce it "bow-bohl.")  The trees are giant, growing for thousands of years, though dating them is impossible because they do not grow rings the way most other tree species do.  The baobab is so big, in fact, that some famous (naturally hollow) baobab trees have been turned into pubs and prisons. (Check out two websites with more info: http://www.southafrica.net/sat/content/en/us/full-article?oid=9417&sn=Detail&pid=1 or  http://www.amusingplanet.com/2011/11/sunland-baobab-bar-inside-hollowed-out.html) The baobab stores a great amount of water in its trunk, and can be found on dry plains in Africa where few other trees exist. There are many legends here about the sacred baobab. To name a few: anyone who picks a flower from the tree will be eaten by a lion, if a person drinks baobab seed-soaked water they will be safe from crocodiles, and if a baby drinks a mixture of the baobab bark and water it will grow up mighty and powerful.

Below is the fruit of a baobab with Jonas for proportion:

Many myths and legends are told about this king of all trees. "The Baobab is a sacred tree in African culture.
If a baby drinks a mixture of its bark and water, it is said to grow up mighty and powerful," van Heerden explained.
Africans also believe that anyone who dares to pick a Baobab flower will be eaten by a lion.
But if a person drinks water in which the tree's seeds have been soaked, he will be safe from a crocodile attack


Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-503404/Fancy-pint-worlds-bar-thats-INSIDE-tree.html#ixzz2CY8AQ3Uq
Follow us: @MailOnline on Twitter | DailyMail on Facebook

Many myths and legends are told about this king of all trees. "The Baobab is a sacred tree in African culture.
If a baby drinks a mixture of its bark and water, it is said to grow up mighty and powerful," van Heerden explained.
Africans also believe that anyone who dares to pick a Baobab flower will be eaten by a lion.
But if a person drinks water in which the tree's seeds have been soaked, he will be safe from a crocodile attack


Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-503404/Fancy-pint-worlds-bar-thats-INSIDE-tree.html#ixzz2CY8AQ3Uq
Follow us: @MailOnline on Twitter | DailyMail on Facebook

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-503404/Fancy-pint-worlds-bar-thats-INSIDE-tree.html#ixzz2CY7y2I9y
Follow us: @MailOnline on Twitter | DailyMail on Facebook

Many myths and legends are told about this king of all trees. "The Baobab is a sacred tree in African culture.
If a baby drinks a mixture of its bark and water, it is said to grow up mighty and powerful," van Heerden explained.
Africans also believe that anyone who dares to pick a Baobab flower will be eaten by a lion.
But if a person drinks water in which the tree's seeds have been soaked, he will be safe from a crocodile attack.


Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-503404/Fancy-pint-worlds-bar-thats-INSIDE-tree.html#ixzz2CY76tH6B
Follow us: @MailOnline on Twitter | DailyMail on Facebook

The fruit is velvety and hard on the outside. Well, not just hard, so hard it has to be broken open with a hammer...

Powder from the fruit immediately pops out.

Above is the baobab fruit once cracked open... The fruit is dry and chalky. The dry, vein-like fibers do not get eaten. 

After popping a piece of the white fruit into your mouth, a tart taste follows. Though we've never tasted anything quite like it, Kurt and I liken it to eating dried unsweetened yogurt... chalky, pasty, a little bitter.

Each separate white piece contains a blackish-brown seed inside.

The white powder is often used as a thickening agent here in southern Africa.  It is virtually impossible to find cream of tartar here until baobab season.  In the US, cream of tartar is a by-product of making wine from grapes. Here cream of tartar is made from the baobab fruit.  There are oodles of other uses: it can be put into porridge or milk to make something called "monkey's bread," used in beer making, soda production, rolled in sugar, and moistened to make juice. The leaves are used medicinally in some cultures and can be eaten raw or cooked.  Health benefits: dietary fibers, carbohydrates, iron, vitamin C, magnesium, calcium, B vitamins, iron, and potassium. I like that the fruit has a long shelf life. It can sit, opened, on the counter for a month and still taste the same.  A couple pieces of the tartness a day is plenty!

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-503404/Fancy-pint-worlds-bar-thats-INSIDE-tree.html#ixzz2CY7y2I9y
Follow us: @MailOnline on Twitter | DailyMail on Facebook

Cape of Good Hope

We have suddenly, and very unexpectedly, received our visas.  After a few hours notice, we hopped on an airplane and we now find ourselves settling back into our African country once again.  We should have been happier with our visas, but having gotten comfortable with the luxuries of South African life over the last few weeks, we felt twinges of sadness at packing up our new apartment and trading it for the shock of the third world once again. Cape Town was a wonderful place to be a visitor, with more to do than we ever got the chance for.  We did, though, get to do something big on our list of places to see... the Cape of Good Hope. Highly recommended.

Give us a call when you go.  We'll join you in a heartbeat.

 

Pictures won't do justice. The Cape Point National Park of South Africa contains the Cape of Good Hope (above), as well as Cape Point, a mountain with a lighthouse that looks down on the Cape of Good Hope.

  Pictured here is the lighthouse, as well as the walking trail and Africa's only funicular path to the top.

Funicular: also known as an inclined plane or cliff railway, is a cable railway in which a cable attached to a pair of tram-like vehicles on rails moves them up and down a steep slope; the ascending and descending vehicles counterbalance each other. Yep.  There. I did it.  Probably the one and only time in my life you will catch me plagiarizing Wikipedia.

 

Blaming our laziness on time and a three year old constantly wanting to be carried (smart boy), we opted to go up the funicular, but walked down afterward. The funicular was reminiscent of a subway car, and packed with people from around the world.  Like being home in New York City.

The view from the top, looking back towards land.

 View of the Cape of Good Hope from Cape Point. Trails below lay out a 1.5 hour hike down to the Cape.

At the lighthouse.

 

Lots of animals to see in the park, as well.  We rubbed shoulders with baboons, ostriches, and three far off zebras.

 

At the Cape of Good Hope.

There is a misconception that the Cape of Good Hope is the southern tip of Africa. This comes from the fact that it was once believed to be the dividing point between the Atlantic and Indian Ocean.  The Cape of Good Hope actually marks the point where a ship going around Africa begins to travel more eastward than southward.

     

Here Kurt and Jonas navigate the rocks with friends Juana and William.

 The tide pools below the cape were amazing- as though the ocean were sitting open for a viewing.

 

The gorgeous towns to and from the cape were fairly congested with stop and go traffic, as there was one road to get to and from Cape Point.  A lovelier stop along the way could not have been found, though, when we got out of the car for a few hours of penguin time.

To see way too many cute pictures of my child with wild penguins, check out my other blog in a couple of days: http://keepingupwiththejonases.blogspot.com/