6 Octubre 2011

So tired that I am struggling to even reflect on the day.

I just put my tea kettle on… completely empty. Brain, not, functioning.

But, let’s see what we can do here. Please excuse the severe lack of point to any of the following paragraphs…

Waking up at 8 I began the preparations for the VALE first cycle party. At the end of each of the three sections of the program there is a party planned, and certificates given to youth with attendance above a certain percentage.

Invitations went out this week to parents and teachers. The idea of the party is for the kids to show their parents their art that is displayed on the walls, and show them what they have learned. Not sure if that actually happened.

Certificates- printed, addressed, signed and stamped

Ingredients for the evening-checked

Invitations-delivered

Library-cleaned

Stove and gas tank-delivered to library in trusty wheel barrel

Self-cleaned and placed in heels

Thus was my morning. Having started early, it went off without a hitch.

I was in the library and ready to start cooking by 3pm (a good 3 hours before parents were supposed to arrive).

There were kids playing outside waiting for my arrival as I stepped up with the keys.

“I am sorry guys, but you can’t come in until 6 o’clock.” Was rattled to confused and unhappy faces.

The VALE committee (my dearest and darlingest friends here) showed up with willing hands just before the Secondary School VALE youth strolled in. I had set everything up so that they could divide in groups with recipes and make each dish as I oversaw. Turned out, that through gritted teeth and a plastered smile I needed to teach them how to read a recipe. Even my adult peers. I could have strangled a few individuals with their inability to make a decision without my aproval. But, like magic, about an hour in, everyone was sizzling and stirring away and I was trotting around as each new step was taken. Never-the-less with a constant finger tapping my shoulder from varied hands.

Of course, one of my burners went out, and Hirma had to save the day and bring her kitchenette down from around the block.

Then my 6-month gas tank ran out (pure luck), and the boys hauled me in a new one from a seller around the corner.

And Meche saved the day by running home to boil sweet potatoes to advance the whole process.

The goal of having the youth learn how to make the dishes was completely fulfilled. Even if they can’t remember the recipe perfectly, at least now they know how to work with ingredients they have never touched before. They actually took over the sushi making, even!

We successfully made:

Maki Sushi-Japan

            Avocado inside some, and asparagus and cream cheese inside others

Gyoza-Japan

            HUGE hit. We made them with fried wontons instead of the traditional dough.

Borscht-Russia

            A little heavy on the cabbage, but seriously the best tasting thing we made

Fufu-Ghana, Africa

            A sweet potato dish no one complained about that disappeared

Hummus-Egypt

Our least successful dish. The blender started smoking so it wasn’t smooth, and we threw in WAY to much garlic.

Kashmir Spinach with whole grain rice

Seriously unliked dish. But, it smelled so good I had to try it. One spoonful and I was convinced their palettes are all confused. Flavors I love that I haven’t tasted since I moved here found their way into this plate. It was delicious and hardly touched.

I do have to boast that this was the most people I have ever been in a room with in the canyon that were quiet simultaneously. Not because of the food. Not because of me. Not because of their kids, even. Because of Jeopardy. They had never seen or played Jeopardy, and we put the Secondary School against the Primary one and the rivalry was on. The Primary school had about double the heads to crunch and much better attendence ratings, so it was a very close game. They were captivated, and the parents were gleaming at the information their kids had learned about things they had surely never heard of. A couple of my proudest moments were when youth raised their hands to confidently define things like “What is a maytrushka doll and where does it come from?”, or “Who was Ghandi and where was he from?”. The best was “Demonstrate how the mantra ‘Om’ is used, what it means and why it is used, and from what country it originates.” To which I got, “It means basic (fundamental… close enough), they use it to reflect on their day in India.” “Can you show us?” to which the entire room couldn’t resist and placed their hands in the prayer position and chanted, “OOmmmmmmmmmmm” in unison.

The parents laughed, and I almost cried.

We had at least 100 people in the tiny library. It was wall to wall packed. Warm and deliscious.

The one HUGE disappointment was that only about 20 parents showed up for the 80 or so youth. When Roxana and I got home here parents were watching TV in bed. It is like these parents week after week don’t show up for their kids’ games or recitals. Or more like they NEVER show up. It feels like utter selfishness to me. I keep reciting in my head, “They are tired from the day’s work in the field.” But, I feel like I am making excuses for them so often, now. I have laborious days too. I tend to chickens, pigs, and donkeys before I even start my day then teach. Some days I hit the fields with them. I live without water and electricity as much as they do. Life is as challenging for me as it is for them. And yet, I and a few other locals, actually accomplish things while others seem incapable.

Going on a rant… it has been driving Gray and I crazy how they never fix anything. They just make life work with what they have. But, their lives would be SO much easier if they just took a day to do a project. Fix the entrance to the pigpen so you don’t have to pile rocks every time you feed them. When you bring firewood home, chop it into usable pieces so the women don’t have to break apart wood in the mornings before they make breakfast or any time they want to cook (sometimes, I think this actually contributes to the malnutrition… the lack of desire to cook because it is such hard work). There are SO many of these little projects they just don’t ever do that I could go on forever. A majority of them wouldn’t even cost a penny, so poverty is no excuse.

Are they just missing that little societal push? Does the community not push them to do any better so they just settle for what they have and plop in front of the tv or behind  bottle?

Anyways, the kids had fun and went home with arms full of things they made, tongues confused by strange flavors, and heads floating somewhere far away.