August 24, 2014

I officially decided I’m going to start a cookbook. I’m not going to publish it by any means, but rather use it over the next two years as a survival guide. With each passing meal I’m picking up little tips and tricks of how to utilize the ingredients offered in Botswana. Between learning Setswana and how to be a life skills volunteer, I have quickly diminishing space left in my brain to remember what and how to cook. I need to write everything down before it is overthrown by Setswana verbs, nouns, and adjectives.

Among phaletshe and the cabbage dish I have been instructed on how to make, next on the list will be what Mme refers to as “ginger drink.” For a few days now there has been a gross looking bucket full of brown, murky liquid which I assumed was grease or leftover food particles. Mme asked if I wanted some ginger drink which I quickly said I would try. She then told me to help myself. Looking around the kitchen I couldn’t possibly understand what she was referring to. She then pointed more obviously at the bucket. I’ve seen the bugs, cats, and garbage thrown around this kitchen, so I was hesitant to drink form an open container that has been sitting out the past few days. Mme filled a cup and drank some herself and insisted that I do the same. She appeared to be fine and I justified drinking the liquid because ginger is good for digestion and hopefully it would kill off any germs. Flawed thinking, but I went with it anyway. I partially filled up my cup, ensuring that I avoided the frequent bugs floating on top of the liquid and pretending like they were a figment of my imagination. The drink was incredible. It was a wonderful ginger flavor with a hint of apple. Mme added apple chunks to the bucket and it was a refreshing crunch as I sipped my drink. Mme promised to teach me the recipe and I promised myself to make it in a closed container once I get to my site.

The last two nights I’ve woken up in the middle of the night with terrible stomach pains. I’ve been attempting to discover the root of my digestive problems, but haven’t been able to place a finger on it. I’ve been good about avoiding gluten, so I have no guesses to what may be causing this pain. It wasn’t until I was helping cook dinner that I recognized the stem of my problem. Mme Chiliwa handed me a meat seasoning packet to throw away. Out of curiosity and suspicion I checked the ingredients list, and sure enough gluten appeared under the allergens. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner. Nearly every night Mme, Princess, or Onica adds this type of packet to the meat along with vegetables and water to season and make what they call soup. I just assumed they made the mix from scratch, but I have been sadly mistaken. One isolated instance eating the soup wouldn’t have effected my stomach, but night after night of eating the meat and its’ seasoning surly has caught up to me. Luckily I was able to avoid the soup tonight because she made it independently of the meat, but who knows what ingredients will be added to the meal in the future. Moving forward I’m going to have to be more careful about what I’m eating.