Draping Leaves and Eating Rabbits
Jan. 31st, 2011 11:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lyricalechoesRabbit truly tastes like chicken. I guess as a child, I should have been horrified at the thought of eating a cute, furry little animal. But perhaps being overseas made me care less about where my food came from and more about how it tasted.
A varied diet wasn’t always possible when we lived in Africa. I know two things that were not readily available were watermelon and peanut butter. They definitely were not for sale at the market. In Africa, the market wasn’t a place like I shop at here. In Africa, the market was basically at few tables set up under some trees at an intersection. I was less picky about what I ate in Africa but even I was never tempted to try some of the local delicacies I saw for sale there. Fried caterpillars and manioc (what they called cassava in that area) were not foods I was wanted to try. However, I loved eating the fried dough balls, fire-roasted corn on the cob, and sugar cane.
I’m not sure you can buy sugar cane here in the States but if you could, I know I would. You start by opening the “bark” with a knife and peel it down. Once you start that first bit with a knife, usually you can peel the rest more easily. The inside is white, chewy and so purely sweet on the tongue! The sweetness lasts awhile as you chew it to a pulp, which then (proper etiquette there) you discreetly spit on the ground. As a child, it was a triple delight: something sweet, something to chew and something you are allow to spit on the ground. Spoonful of sugar here are not near as much work but also do not hold the physical satisfaction of first working hard to uncover your food and then chewing it. Spoonfuls of sugar melt in your mouth, hardly leaving a memory.
We could buy sugar for baking but my parents really missed peanut butter. They missed it so much that they had my other brother make it, grinding peanuts by the hour with a meat grinder. Our homemade peanut butter often separated in a jar but you could get the consistency right again by stirring it with a knife. Now that I am older, I am guessing part of what Mom missed was the convenience. The market also did not sell lunch meat to store in our gasoline-fueled refrigerator. With four children at that time, Mom needed a way to give us a quick lunch that didn’t require hours of using the wood stove out in the cook shack. We only had electricity for a few hours each week, so all cooking was done in the little cook shack across from our porch. Without air conditioning or electric fans, it was important to keep cooking heat separate from the house.
Our diet didn’t vary much but Christmas time was special, even in Africa. In Africa, pine trees are hard to come by but our station had one which, every Christmas, each family was allowed to cut one branch off of. No more or the tree would die. But we got a nice branch and stood it up in a pot in living room. We covered it with decorations, including paper snowflakes though we had no chance of having a white Christmas. With our ebony manger scene on a nearby table, the room seemed just about perfect in my child-like eyes.
Any holiday reminds people of their families. My parents and siblings lived with me in Africa but many of the adults really missed their parents, far across the ocean. I guess to compensate for the lack of nearby relatives, we children were told to call the other Americans uncle and aunt.
Christmas was exciting and we were all going to gather at Aunt Beverly’s for our noon meal. I couldn’t wait! But first, our parents got us dressed up for the Christmas service. I never understood why fancy dresses were necessary on Sundays. It wasn’t uncommon to see the natives there in pajamas! Apparently, they were given clothes from the US but often they didn’t know the “proper use” of each garment. More than one African lady wore a fancy lace slip to church as a dress. (Now that I think about it, it is kind of odd how our society decides which garments are appropriate for which place.)
Once we were dressed for church, Mom sent us outside to wait while she got ready. My siblings and I talked excitedly about what our gifts might be but, most of all, what dinner might taste like. We had heard we were having rabbit! Far from horrified, we were excited to try this new dish.
Finally we heard the “bong, bong!” of the wooden drums that served as a church bell there in Zaire. Few natives could afford clocks or even watches, so the drums served to alert everyone when it was time for church.
When I entered the church, I was amazed at the transformation. So many colorful decorations! Draped around the church and tied on the front railing were lovely colorful Christmas decorations … but not the kind we see here in the US. Natives had gone out and picked the most colorful leaves they could find: red, yellow and green and tied them in bunches which they draped around the church. To the adults, used to the US, it probably seemed meager but I thought it was beautiful. I knew how to sing some of the carols in Lingala but the ones I didn’t know, I hummed along with the melody. The notes were still the same even when the words were different.
And after church, the quick walk back to Aunt Beverly’s. It was a 1 ½ miles to church but almost all of us walked. The station owned two vehicles but the use of those pick-up trucks was shared between all the families.
At Aunt Beverly’s, I immediately got myself a tall glass of water. I was hot from walking but the best was still to come. Finally, after the blessing, she brought out the “Southern-friend, Chicken fried rabbit.” We all passed it around and I savored that first crunchy bite. Crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, and all I wanted to eat! We didn’t eat large amounts of protein there so I ate my fill, lounging with a full stomach on the cool concrete floor that evening. It was present time!
I don’t remember most of my gifts that year but I do remember enjoying that delicious fried rabbit. It may sound cruel to eat such a cute animal but I did like that Christmas meal. It both looked and tasted better than fried caterpillars!
A varied diet wasn’t always possible when we lived in Africa. I know two things that were not readily available were watermelon and peanut butter. They definitely were not for sale at the market. In Africa, the market wasn’t a place like I shop at here. In Africa, the market was basically at few tables set up under some trees at an intersection. I was less picky about what I ate in Africa but even I was never tempted to try some of the local delicacies I saw for sale there. Fried caterpillars and manioc (what they called cassava in that area) were not foods I was wanted to try. However, I loved eating the fried dough balls, fire-roasted corn on the cob, and sugar cane.
I’m not sure you can buy sugar cane here in the States but if you could, I know I would. You start by opening the “bark” with a knife and peel it down. Once you start that first bit with a knife, usually you can peel the rest more easily. The inside is white, chewy and so purely sweet on the tongue! The sweetness lasts awhile as you chew it to a pulp, which then (proper etiquette there) you discreetly spit on the ground. As a child, it was a triple delight: something sweet, something to chew and something you are allow to spit on the ground. Spoonful of sugar here are not near as much work but also do not hold the physical satisfaction of first working hard to uncover your food and then chewing it. Spoonfuls of sugar melt in your mouth, hardly leaving a memory.
We could buy sugar for baking but my parents really missed peanut butter. They missed it so much that they had my other brother make it, grinding peanuts by the hour with a meat grinder. Our homemade peanut butter often separated in a jar but you could get the consistency right again by stirring it with a knife. Now that I am older, I am guessing part of what Mom missed was the convenience. The market also did not sell lunch meat to store in our gasoline-fueled refrigerator. With four children at that time, Mom needed a way to give us a quick lunch that didn’t require hours of using the wood stove out in the cook shack. We only had electricity for a few hours each week, so all cooking was done in the little cook shack across from our porch. Without air conditioning or electric fans, it was important to keep cooking heat separate from the house.
Our diet didn’t vary much but Christmas time was special, even in Africa. In Africa, pine trees are hard to come by but our station had one which, every Christmas, each family was allowed to cut one branch off of. No more or the tree would die. But we got a nice branch and stood it up in a pot in living room. We covered it with decorations, including paper snowflakes though we had no chance of having a white Christmas. With our ebony manger scene on a nearby table, the room seemed just about perfect in my child-like eyes.
Any holiday reminds people of their families. My parents and siblings lived with me in Africa but many of the adults really missed their parents, far across the ocean. I guess to compensate for the lack of nearby relatives, we children were told to call the other Americans uncle and aunt.
Christmas was exciting and we were all going to gather at Aunt Beverly’s for our noon meal. I couldn’t wait! But first, our parents got us dressed up for the Christmas service. I never understood why fancy dresses were necessary on Sundays. It wasn’t uncommon to see the natives there in pajamas! Apparently, they were given clothes from the US but often they didn’t know the “proper use” of each garment. More than one African lady wore a fancy lace slip to church as a dress. (Now that I think about it, it is kind of odd how our society decides which garments are appropriate for which place.)
Once we were dressed for church, Mom sent us outside to wait while she got ready. My siblings and I talked excitedly about what our gifts might be but, most of all, what dinner might taste like. We had heard we were having rabbit! Far from horrified, we were excited to try this new dish.
Finally we heard the “bong, bong!” of the wooden drums that served as a church bell there in Zaire. Few natives could afford clocks or even watches, so the drums served to alert everyone when it was time for church.
When I entered the church, I was amazed at the transformation. So many colorful decorations! Draped around the church and tied on the front railing were lovely colorful Christmas decorations … but not the kind we see here in the US. Natives had gone out and picked the most colorful leaves they could find: red, yellow and green and tied them in bunches which they draped around the church. To the adults, used to the US, it probably seemed meager but I thought it was beautiful. I knew how to sing some of the carols in Lingala but the ones I didn’t know, I hummed along with the melody. The notes were still the same even when the words were different.
And after church, the quick walk back to Aunt Beverly’s. It was a 1 ½ miles to church but almost all of us walked. The station owned two vehicles but the use of those pick-up trucks was shared between all the families.
At Aunt Beverly’s, I immediately got myself a tall glass of water. I was hot from walking but the best was still to come. Finally, after the blessing, she brought out the “Southern-friend, Chicken fried rabbit.” We all passed it around and I savored that first crunchy bite. Crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, and all I wanted to eat! We didn’t eat large amounts of protein there so I ate my fill, lounging with a full stomach on the cool concrete floor that evening. It was present time!
I don’t remember most of my gifts that year but I do remember enjoying that delicious fried rabbit. It may sound cruel to eat such a cute animal but I did like that Christmas meal. It both looked and tasted better than fried caterpillars!
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no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 06:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 06:44 pm (UTC)I really struggled with this topic to come up with something besides "my life is so stressed, I am crunched" or "I like crunchy food...like chips. Even carrots."
It's a hard topic (to me.) But I am sad it made you think of something gross.
Thanks for reading anyways!
no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 06:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 06:51 pm (UTC)We don't realize how blessed we are. I often forget that myself.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 07:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 09:15 pm (UTC)But travel is expensive so I know it won't be any time soon.
After I wrote this, I thought a lot about..what did we eat? I don't remember much meat at all. We never had fried chicken or anything that involved big pieces of chicken (baked chicken, chicken tenders, never anything like that.) My parents (I guess due to cost) tended to make meals with very little meat, like casseroles or fried rice or something like that. I don't even remember having hamburgers in Africa. In Africa, there were 4 kids in my family and they added 3 more after we moved. We ate a little more meat once we were back in the States.
I guess part of why I enjoyed it so much was that everyone acted like the rabbit was a special treat and, like I said, I was growing. I was 7 or 8 when this was written and I was hungry often (not in a neglected way but just "growing child who runs everywhere" hungry). We were always climbing trees, riding our bikes and walking EVERYWHERE. So I guess that's part of why I didn't think a lot about "poor bunny":(
In contrast, when we moved back to the States, I would hold funerals and cry on and on for squirrels hit by cars in front of our house. I kept thinking, "Oh, you poor squirrel. Doesn't his mom miss him when he doesn't come home tonight?"
Comparatively, that makes no sense. Bunnies are mostly cuter than squirrels and the squirrel didn't die for my dinner.
I guess it was where I lived that changed my perception some?
It is very odd to realize now ... why didn't the fact that it was rabbit bother me?
no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 11:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 11:37 pm (UTC)There were so many changes in my life with all the moving around. We only spent one year in one house in Africa and then moved to another!
I guess with all the moving and having to learn other languages and not having air conditioning and teaching myself to never drink the tap water only the well water (we did have running water but it wasn't safe to drink.) Which, again, I wonder why the adults never learned to purify the tap water?
Whenever I remember about my time there, I think of more questions I would like to ask my parents! LOL!
no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 08:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 10:02 pm (UTC)I THINK people will like hearing about Africa but, eventually, I am sure those stories will run out. Then what will I write? Every week is a new..."oh no, I have nothing to say, I told all my stories...ok, maybe this will work."
Let's see how long I can keep it going (or how soon I am voted out)
no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 10:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 10:32 pm (UTC)Did your friend go to boarding school?
no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 06:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 08:02 pm (UTC)No one while I lived there brought up, "poor furry little bunny" and so I never thought of it, at the time. It is very strange sometimes to analyze one's childhood memories as I do see them differently now that I am older.
Is squirrel good?:) I mean, to some extent, I do feel that if eating rabbit is mean, how is it worse than being mean to chicken or cows? I guess it all depends on what is accepted.
Have you ever been hunting yourself?
How did the homesteading work out? From your comment, it sounds like they decided to move back to a city? Were they doing a garden and having chickens, etc?
no subject
Date: 2011-02-02 12:33 am (UTC)Homesteading was extremely hard for my sister. She raised goats, chickens rabbits. They built their own log cabin then nearly froze in the winter trying to burn ice covered logs. I was so glad when they gave up that whole idea!
no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 10:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 11:10 pm (UTC)When I was a child, I learned people thought living in Africa was interesting and I often used to "lead off" with that, "Hey, I'm --- and I lived in Africa!" But, I learned...I don't know. That when you lead off with that that people think that there must be a WHOLE LOT of even more interesting stuff about you.
So now I try to save it for when it matters. You know? I was just a child and now I'm 32. So...while it was a special experience that changed me...I don't want to just...I don't want to.."waste" talking about it? I want to make sure people want to know me for me instead of just wanting to hear about Africa?
I'm not sure any of what I just said makes sense.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 11:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-02 01:09 am (UTC)But I appreciate the compliment. I don't think my travels made me any better or worse than anyone else. I just happened to be in a family that had that experience.
I didn't always enjoy moving around when I was little but I do appreciate the perspective it gave me. I think I value the things in my life more (than some but perhaps less than others) because I have lived in Africa.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 11:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 11:11 pm (UTC)I'm glad it worked for you:)
no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 02:35 am (UTC)Sorry, long comment! It was great to read about your experiences. Also, I tried sugar cane once when I was about the same age as you were, and you're right: nothing compares!!
no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 05:41 am (UTC)I would love to eat sugar cane again:)
I admire people who can eat vegetarian. I think it is a very healthy way to go.
And yes, I don't think I could kill for food for myself but if my children were starving, I bet I would find it in me. I know it's a life but having kids (for me) has brought out new protective and nurturing instincts.
I have never been very squeamish. In fact, my first choice at a college major was nursing. It never bothered me to dissect in high school or to see medical shows on TV. I guess people either are or not. I'm glad I'm not as sometimes you just have to "face it and clean it up" with kids.
I enjoy long comments. And thanks for the add. I added you back.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 11:52 am (UTC)I find I only really miss meat when I'm pregnant! Especially bacon... omg. I could eat it all the time at the moment! When I decided to stop eating it, it was due more to money :D I was a student on a very low income and realised I could afford more food if I wasn't buying meat.
I agree - having children changes how you act in many ways!
no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 11:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-05 12:25 am (UTC)I feel I didn't have much to add to your entry, as I have never wrestled. Length of comment does not always adequately gauge enjoyment. I often most enjoy the ones that are about experiences I have never gone through personally:)
Thanks for your comment!
no subject
Date: 2011-02-05 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-05 06:01 pm (UTC)But now, looking back as an adult, I am really grateful for my experiences there. I appreciate my life in the US more and I feel I have a more multicultural perspective. I think the more experiences you have, the more open you can be to relating to other people and where they come from.
Thanks for your kind words!
no subject
Date: 2011-02-05 05:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-05 05:59 pm (UTC)I guess your taste buds are smarter than mine. Like I said in a comment above, I can't remember eating much meat in Africa. We would have some but usually it was in little bits in fried rice or in a casserole.
I was only there from ages 7-9 but I do remember it. I was young but I remember enough to greatly appreciate all the modern benefits of the US. We had running water but we couldn't drink it! We hauled drinking water from a pump 1 1/2 miles away! It was so hot and we also didn't have air conditioning.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-05 07:29 pm (UTC)Wow. Such a different way of life. I bet that would make you appreciate the things we take for granted her.