The baby of my family, I was forced for many years to accompany my mother through the madness and chaos of America’s Black Friday shopping.
I hated it.
As a child, I would alternate between falling asleep on the department store floors and whining for food and home.
The Nutrition Battle
I have never been so aware of nutrition in my life.
In America, meat was always available. Spinach salads, nuts and beans, fruits and veggies galore. If I didn’t get a balanced meal at one sitting, I was bound to fill in the gaps at the next.
Not so in Rwanda.
Lunch and dinner are the same everyday: rice, beans, and boiled or fried plantains or potatoes. If you have money, you might also get some tough-as-nails meat (intestines and all).
Going cold turkey off coffee is one adjustment I didn’t anticipate having to make when moving to Rwanda.
In a country whose second largest export is ikawa [coffee], where it grows on trees all around me, and my own host Mama spends her days cultivating the red berries – all I can get is instant!
Don’t get me wrong, the icyayi [tea] here is delicious. Continue reading
Part of the reason I live with a host family during my three months of Pre-Service Training (PST) is so that I can learn the basics of surviving on my own in Rwanda.
This includes cooking.
I was not a fabulous cook back in the States. I could follow a recipe and make a decent stir fry. I even made Thanksgiving dinner by myself when I was eleven or twelve. But in no way do I consider myself someone who cooks well. Therefore, cooking for myself in Rwanda is definitely among my top ten concerns.
Detour Scenery 