Food can be a
source of great comfort or incredible disappointment. Ugandan food leaves more than a little something
to be desired. The favorite food here is
Matooke, green starchy bananas mashed and steamed, often served with G-nut
sauce (peanut sauce). It has no flavor and the texture of slightly
molten plastic. As it cools it hardens
and becomes something my nephew would love to bounce off a wall. The worst thing about it, it really grows on you. Posho is a big staple food. It is made from maize meal cooked with just a
bit of water. It has its own peculiar
texture, spongy and gritty; it breaks apart like hard clumps of soil. The maize they eat here is what Americans consider
white feed corn reserved for livestock.
I brought sweet yellow corn seeds with me. I will be planting them soon. The village is pretty excited about it. To my surprise they have had it before. There was a food shortage some years ago. The
US sent aid which included yellow sweet corn.
They speak fondly of the tasty yellow posho and porridge. The only problem is maize is grown all around
my site. Cross pollination may result in
a crop that is not the tasty delight I hope for.
A quick aside, I
have been hearing some rhythmic drumming.
I went outside to investigate. While
I could not find the source of the drumming, there were two oxen in my yard
engaged in the tender act of coatis.
There are a lot
of Indian people in Uganda. My closest
town has three Indian restaurants. When I
go I take full advantage of the opportunity and venture to flavor country. I live off of street food and curry for days
at a time. As enjoyable as this is, think
about what Indian food can do to your G.I. tract. Now imagine going home and feeling that
uncomfortable urge, having to find your keys, fumble with a pad lock, and then
run fifty feet to your out house, fumble with two more rusty padlocks and squat
over a hole in the ground. It’s enough
to make you dream about posho and beans with a side of cabbage. The cherry on this lovely adventure, my back
door only latches from the inside. Every
time I return from the latrine I wonder if I will be greeted by a ten pound
waddling rodent. I have learned these
cute little creatures are known as “Lesser Pouched Rats”. This has raised a torn curiosity. I really want to see a greater pouched rat,
but I really don’t want one in my house.
Burger is a misunderstood
art form in Uganda. So many times I have
seen a picture of a beautiful cheese burger on a menu. Then you get some unknown cheese and vegetables
on a bun, no delicious ground beef patty in site. It’s tragic. They think burger refers to the
bun, resulting in a literal interpretation of “cheese burger”.
Pizza is a total
crap shoot. It is almost nonexistent. When you do find it you typically wish you hadn't. One of my favorite Indian restaurants serves
something they call pizza. It is really
its own creation, quite tasty, nothing like American pizza. When everything around you is unfamiliar it
is often better to find comfort in new things, rather than be disappointed by a
poor facsimile of something you love.
I had high hopes
for the beer, perhaps too high. I’m no
beer snob. High life and PBR are no
strangers to my pallet. But I do enjoy a
good brew. Trying a new and tasty
mixture of hops and barley has always been top on my list of beloved weekend activities. IPA’s are my favorite. Sadly ale is nonexistent here. If an establishment claims to have a good
selection, they mean four types. I have
yet to see a beer tap. On the bright
side, the normal bottle size is 0.5 liters.
I was here for two weeks before I had a beer. It was a NILE Special “Brewed at the Source”. It tasted like honey. After two weeks of jet lag, new food, and
stressful days a warm, flat, and stale Natural Ice would have tasted like
honey. Nile has become my Ugandan beer
of choice. Never been one for a libation.
At first I was excited to be drinking
beer made at the source of the Nile.
When I learned about the terrible water pollution here, I really hoped
they had a quality water filtration system.
Now I am just happy when I have the chance to grab a cold one, which you
have to ask specifically for. Otherwise you
get a room temperature beer. That is
room temperature on the equator where air conditioning is just another thing no
one has ever heard of.
