By Susan Mwape
When did you last enjoy the feel of ripe mango juice oozing down your chin or just savor the smell of pumpkin leaves cooking? I guess sitting at home on a Sunday and experiencing these feelings made me realize that it’s the simple pleasures in life that make all the difference. I spent a beautiful Sunday slowly cooking some village chicken until it turned a golden brown. The aroma had many of my neighbors coming by to ask if lunch was ready. This in itself put a smile on my face as I realized how when I was a young gal I always wondered how my grandmother always managed to knock me out with heavenly smells of chicken cooked without cooking oil.
Infact, it started when I was peeling chibwabwa (pumpkin leaves) and she just said Susan you are wasting relish. I just said grandma am tired I have been peeling these vegetables for a long time and am tired. As if she didn’t hear my complaint she set aside her glass of juice to show me how they clean chibwabwa whilst including the little tiny leaves I kept throwing away. She just said, ‘hmm utayatumpuno” to which I just laughed at the expression.
For over 19 years I have been cooking Nsima and believed I managed to perfect the art of preparing it, until this afternoon when my grandmother came by and stood like a pre-school teacher watching me cook. I began by making the porridge and because the water had almost boiled, the porridge formed little mealie meal balls. Granny disapprovingly looked on and asked me to sprinkle some mealie meal on the porridge. I began to argue that there porridge was already thick and would harden but she insisted. I added the mealie meal with my own doubts. I was a little excited that for once I would be able to tell granny “I told you so”. I went about cleaning the kitchen and when I was ready to cook the Nsima I went to open the lid I was surprised to find perfect boiling porridge. Not a single ball was in sight and I managed to cook perfect Nsima without spending too much time attempting to crush the little balls of mealie meal.
These two lessons I learnt in one day reminded me of last year when I watched Johnny English with my friend Lucy. There was the phrase “with age comes wisdom”. I thought cooking village chicken to golden brown without adding cooking oil and not burning it meant I had reached granny’s perfection level. I learnt that there was still a lot that I needed to learn.
Looking back, I remember a time when my grandmother would run after me around the house so that she could catch me and giving me a beating for misbehaving. I even remember her once falling as she was about to pursue me. Yet to day I can make excuses for my short coming and get away with it without granny pulling my ears.
As I type this, am sitting outside my house watching the kids playing ‘waida’ a game I loved to play once upon a time. In as much as I can’t play waida anymore because am no longer physically fit to it brings a huge smile on my face. I see myself in these young girls and I them in me and I realize it’s the simple pleasures in life that matter the most. I now delight in spending time sitting at home with mom listening to her endless stories that are always full of wisdom. I guess I too am growing wiser and appreciating the Simple Pleasures that life has to offer.
When did you last enjoy the feel of ripe mango juice oozing down your chin or just savor the smell of pumpkin leaves cooking? I guess sitting at home on a Sunday and experiencing these feelings made me realize that it’s the simple pleasures in life that make all the difference. I spent a beautiful Sunday slowly cooking some village chicken until it turned a golden brown. The aroma had many of my neighbors coming by to ask if lunch was ready. This in itself put a smile on my face as I realized how when I was a young gal I always wondered how my grandmother always managed to knock me out with heavenly smells of chicken cooked without cooking oil.
Infact, it started when I was peeling chibwabwa (pumpkin leaves) and she just said Susan you are wasting relish. I just said grandma am tired I have been peeling these vegetables for a long time and am tired. As if she didn’t hear my complaint she set aside her glass of juice to show me how they clean chibwabwa whilst including the little tiny leaves I kept throwing away. She just said, ‘hmm utayatumpuno” to which I just laughed at the expression.
For over 19 years I have been cooking Nsima and believed I managed to perfect the art of preparing it, until this afternoon when my grandmother came by and stood like a pre-school teacher watching me cook. I began by making the porridge and because the water had almost boiled, the porridge formed little mealie meal balls. Granny disapprovingly looked on and asked me to sprinkle some mealie meal on the porridge. I began to argue that there porridge was already thick and would harden but she insisted. I added the mealie meal with my own doubts. I was a little excited that for once I would be able to tell granny “I told you so”. I went about cleaning the kitchen and when I was ready to cook the Nsima I went to open the lid I was surprised to find perfect boiling porridge. Not a single ball was in sight and I managed to cook perfect Nsima without spending too much time attempting to crush the little balls of mealie meal.
These two lessons I learnt in one day reminded me of last year when I watched Johnny English with my friend Lucy. There was the phrase “with age comes wisdom”. I thought cooking village chicken to golden brown without adding cooking oil and not burning it meant I had reached granny’s perfection level. I learnt that there was still a lot that I needed to learn.
Looking back, I remember a time when my grandmother would run after me around the house so that she could catch me and giving me a beating for misbehaving. I even remember her once falling as she was about to pursue me. Yet to day I can make excuses for my short coming and get away with it without granny pulling my ears.
As I type this, am sitting outside my house watching the kids playing ‘waida’ a game I loved to play once upon a time. In as much as I can’t play waida anymore because am no longer physically fit to it brings a huge smile on my face. I see myself in these young girls and I them in me and I realize it’s the simple pleasures in life that matter the most. I now delight in spending time sitting at home with mom listening to her endless stories that are always full of wisdom. I guess I too am growing wiser and appreciating the Simple Pleasures that life has to offer.
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