Paul and Pam took us to visit the widows of Naminya today. I had heard much about “the best banana bread in the world” and I was excited to sink my own teeth into it and to experience the whole baking experience for myself. The village of Naminya is about halfway between Jinja and Bukeeka, but this time we each had our own personal motorcycle boda boda. With seven of us, it felt like we were the “Hell’s Angels” zipping down the narrow highway.
We come to Regina’s home (one of the 9 “widows of Naminya”) and met up with the other widows who had already arrived to start their day of baking. These fine ladies, personal friends of the Hunter’s, started a thriving bread baking business about a year ago. Regina and Florence were already cutting up pumpkins to roast under banana leaves. Sissy was stoking the fire in the mud oven that had been specially designed for them. Margaret had been sent to find bananas. All were busy about their jobs but stopped to greet us with a warm hug and “Kali, kali”. Mama Sarah, a tall and regal woman, pulled up benches for us to settle in to as she invited us to watch the process.
As the pumpkin roasted, Pam pulled out reading glasses that Syd had brought in her bags of goodies. Pam had noticed several weeks ago that one of the widows had a difficult time reading and had let her try her own reading glasses. The widow’s face lit up as she was actually able to read the words on the page, so that inspired Pam to obtain reading glasses for all of them. One by one, the widows tried on different sets of glasses to see what worked the best. Mama Sarah picked up her own Bible and tried out her new glasses. She had a big grin on her face and said, “This is good, this is good! I can read my Bible!”
By this time, the pumpkin was being stripped from the peel and mashed up in a big bowl. Florence was sifting flour and another was measuring out sugar. It was such a joy to watch them giggle and tease each other as they cooked. The dough was poured into the pans, set in the oven, and sealed for the allotted cooking time. We had been observing and keeping entertained through the whole process. It was great to have both Paul and Pam with us, just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company.
As the hours passed, various children passed by on the road near us. Because this village has not had as much exposure to whites, their reactions to us were more of fright and timidity than what I had seen in town and Bukeeka. At one point, a group of kids came galloping by at full speed past the house and glanced just long enough to catch us in their vision. The breaks went on and I heard one shout, “Mzungu!” like we were some type of rare specimen that had just been rediscovered. For a split second, they stared at us, and then just as fast has they had stopped, they resumed speed and tore down the road. Shortly after, I decided to walk up to the road and just see what there was to see. I looked down one way. Nothing but a red dirt road. Looked the other way. A small boy tagging a ways behind his father turned in just enough time to see me and instantly started screaming and ran as fast as he could the down the road to catch up with his father. Not the reaction I had expected. All the other Mzungus were laughing at me when I reached the house again. “What in the world did you do to that poor child!??” “Nothing!” I said.
About the time the oven started emitting the most wonderfully delicious smell, a large group of uniformed school children stopped by to investigate where the smell was coming from. A bit hesitant, due to my just prior experience of scaring a poor child to death simply by looking at him, I walked up to the group to introduce myself and make friends. Again, my camera came in handy and all walls seemed to immediately tumble as they shrieked and giggled at their images on the screen. Syd came to the rescue as I was getting mauled by eager hands. Syd is so great with the kids. She sat them all down within seconds had them talking and asking questions, and even singing songs. The blistering noon sun beat down on us but the kids would have sat there for hours had we had enough stamina. Syd and I had to get back to the shade before we burnt to a crisp so we bid the children goodbye - besides, the bread was done and begging for attention :-)
Margaret served us cold sodas, which she had just brought from town balanced in a tub on her head. We all gathered in the shade, Pam skillfully removed the tops off the glass bottles using a wooden bench and a quick whack of her hand. One of the widows brought two huge plates of thickly sliced bread and we all sank our teeth into truly the best banana bread you have ever tasted. The fellowship was sweet and we again marveled at the Lord’s goodness.
After that, a few of us went further up the road to Mama Sarah’s house to visit the milk cows, calves, and hang out while Abdu collected milk. I loved hanging out there, far away from town, cell phones, traffic noise, pollution, and most everything else that brings stress and anxiety. The lush rolling tropical hills of Uganda seemed to stretch on forever from that place of solitude. Pale green butterflies danced in the wind and the scent of earthy goodness wafted along on the light breeze. The tethered calves beckoned me closer with their huge puppy dog eyes and the smallest one nuzzled my pants looking for milk. He decided my fingers would suffice as a pacifier until his dinner came. Completely covered in slime to my elbows, I sought out Abdu and he graciously offered water to rinse at least the first layer off my hands. But you know I loved every minute of it.
We come to Regina’s home (one of the 9 “widows of Naminya”) and met up with the other widows who had already arrived to start their day of baking. These fine ladies, personal friends of the Hunter’s, started a thriving bread baking business about a year ago. Regina and Florence were already cutting up pumpkins to roast under banana leaves. Sissy was stoking the fire in the mud oven that had been specially designed for them. Margaret had been sent to find bananas. All were busy about their jobs but stopped to greet us with a warm hug and “Kali, kali”. Mama Sarah, a tall and regal woman, pulled up benches for us to settle in to as she invited us to watch the process.
As the pumpkin roasted, Pam pulled out reading glasses that Syd had brought in her bags of goodies. Pam had noticed several weeks ago that one of the widows had a difficult time reading and had let her try her own reading glasses. The widow’s face lit up as she was actually able to read the words on the page, so that inspired Pam to obtain reading glasses for all of them. One by one, the widows tried on different sets of glasses to see what worked the best. Mama Sarah picked up her own Bible and tried out her new glasses. She had a big grin on her face and said, “This is good, this is good! I can read my Bible!”
By this time, the pumpkin was being stripped from the peel and mashed up in a big bowl. Florence was sifting flour and another was measuring out sugar. It was such a joy to watch them giggle and tease each other as they cooked. The dough was poured into the pans, set in the oven, and sealed for the allotted cooking time. We had been observing and keeping entertained through the whole process. It was great to have both Paul and Pam with us, just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company.
As the hours passed, various children passed by on the road near us. Because this village has not had as much exposure to whites, their reactions to us were more of fright and timidity than what I had seen in town and Bukeeka. At one point, a group of kids came galloping by at full speed past the house and glanced just long enough to catch us in their vision. The breaks went on and I heard one shout, “Mzungu!” like we were some type of rare specimen that had just been rediscovered. For a split second, they stared at us, and then just as fast has they had stopped, they resumed speed and tore down the road. Shortly after, I decided to walk up to the road and just see what there was to see. I looked down one way. Nothing but a red dirt road. Looked the other way. A small boy tagging a ways behind his father turned in just enough time to see me and instantly started screaming and ran as fast as he could the down the road to catch up with his father. Not the reaction I had expected. All the other Mzungus were laughing at me when I reached the house again. “What in the world did you do to that poor child!??” “Nothing!” I said.
About the time the oven started emitting the most wonderfully delicious smell, a large group of uniformed school children stopped by to investigate where the smell was coming from. A bit hesitant, due to my just prior experience of scaring a poor child to death simply by looking at him, I walked up to the group to introduce myself and make friends. Again, my camera came in handy and all walls seemed to immediately tumble as they shrieked and giggled at their images on the screen. Syd came to the rescue as I was getting mauled by eager hands. Syd is so great with the kids. She sat them all down within seconds had them talking and asking questions, and even singing songs. The blistering noon sun beat down on us but the kids would have sat there for hours had we had enough stamina. Syd and I had to get back to the shade before we burnt to a crisp so we bid the children goodbye - besides, the bread was done and begging for attention :-)
Margaret served us cold sodas, which she had just brought from town balanced in a tub on her head. We all gathered in the shade, Pam skillfully removed the tops off the glass bottles using a wooden bench and a quick whack of her hand. One of the widows brought two huge plates of thickly sliced bread and we all sank our teeth into truly the best banana bread you have ever tasted. The fellowship was sweet and we again marveled at the Lord’s goodness.
After that, a few of us went further up the road to Mama Sarah’s house to visit the milk cows, calves, and hang out while Abdu collected milk. I loved hanging out there, far away from town, cell phones, traffic noise, pollution, and most everything else that brings stress and anxiety. The lush rolling tropical hills of Uganda seemed to stretch on forever from that place of solitude. Pale green butterflies danced in the wind and the scent of earthy goodness wafted along on the light breeze. The tethered calves beckoned me closer with their huge puppy dog eyes and the smallest one nuzzled my pants looking for milk. He decided my fingers would suffice as a pacifier until his dinner came. Completely covered in slime to my elbows, I sought out Abdu and he graciously offered water to rinse at least the first layer off my hands. But you know I loved every minute of it.
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