neither here nor there

Miriam and Bushka cook the night away in Isiolo.

Somehow I ended up obligated to cook for 15 people by myself. …so there I was not quite sure how to go about this.  Not that I didn’t know proportions or what to fix, but rather I didn’t know how to get this finished before 11pm.

The sun had set and a small kerosene lamp was dwindling away in the corner of the kitchen.  Not so far off were the sounds of adults and children frantically organizing for a group of visitors arriving eminently.  It was time to peel mountains of tomatoes, onions, carrots, prepare rice, shred some kale, boils potatoes, go out and find salt, and on and on.  I got started.

About 20 mins into my plight came Miriam.  She’s a an 8 year old from the orphanage waiting to be placed with a family in the Isiolo community.  She hops down the kitchen step and stands over me.

“Bryce!  Give me the knife!” she says in a high pitched voice.

Bushka, the same height and age as Miriam, hops down the step>  She approaches, her skirt brushing the damp durt floor beneath her.

“Let me help!” Bushka says matching the tone of Miriam.  Before I can respond, she starts rummaging for a knife in a tray of clean dishes.

These two are followed by 3 more small girls.

“Let me help!” one says.

“Give me the cabbage!” says another.

“We need stools!” says the last to enter.

I’m completely surrounded before I know it.  Little kids are clattering dishes, digging up charcoal and criticizing each other all over the kitchen.

An argument erupts amongst three girls siting around a pot peeling and chopping tomatoes.

“Look.  No!  Bushka has cut them too small.  Look!” one says.  The girls look at a half inch piece of sliced tomato and shake their heads with pity.

“No!  It is good.  Stop!” Bushka retors cutting even faster.  I watcher her destroy a tomoto with a knife literally 3 inches longer than her forearm.

By now, I’m giving orders to the sauciers.  “We’re putting the ginger in with the chile.  Then smashing them together.” I’m say.

“Together?” several ask.

“Yes, together.” I say with a glint in my eye.  But it’s a delicate line between headchef and errand boy.

“We need more knives!” Miriam shouts over a boiling pot of eggplant.  I rush off to the dinning area and bring more knives.  They are immediately taken and put to use with tiny hands.

Eventually we run out of maize flour.  “I need to go for flour,” I say.  “But we need the kale cooked.  Can you do it while I’m gone?”

“We can do it, Bryce!” Miriam shouts over her shoulder as she shoves wood into hungry fire, causing sparks to fly around her, “We can cook!  We can make rice, tomatoes, meat, ugali, even chapatti!  We can do it!”

Needless to say, we got everything finished on time and it tasted great.  And I could have sworn I heard Whistle While You Work from Snow White being sung somewhere out in the night.