Ayo is to be my local guide. He takes me for a walk in the neighborhood. There is a market where street vendors sell vegetables and fruit spread out on mats or cloth on the street. A small brick room with tin roof sells groceries, toiletries and other small stuff.

It is getting close to evening, and women have started grinding corn in a stone grinder outside their cottages. Our cottages are huddled together. I stand near one cottage and watch as the corn paste is molded into patties to make the Nsima. I quickly learn that corn is a staple food for the Malawians. Only those who can afford it eat fish and chicken. On a stove made out of three stones and using wood for fire they are preparing a sauce in a large pot. It smells like vegetable soup. The lady talks with Ayo in the local dialect, which I don’t understand.

“She’s asking if you would like to join them for dinner,” he says.

I agree.

I see chickens trotting the compound and sheep grazing the grass. The place smells of stale garbage. A while later the man of the house walks in after the day’s work. I learn he has two wives. We wash our hands in a common bowl before eating. I don’t know how clean it is. I don’t like the taste of the Nsima but eat it anyway. I thank the family and return to my cottage.

Thank you for reading the story. I'd love to hear from you.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.