I wake up and pull the mosquito net aside, the sun is streaming through my window and I revel in the quiet. For a moment. And then the rooster crows (loud enough that it could be in my bed with me), the mice start scurrying in my ceiling, there is a dog fight outside my window, a land rover roars by the house, a baby begins to cry and swahili voices echo from the kitchen.
Ah its a beautiful Tanzanian morning.
The electricity is out, I find a little joy in this normalcy, and I begin my day accordingly.
Chai and eggs for breakfast and a warm bucket bath.
Something smells terrible, and I know that somewhere there is a decomposing rat. I search the house for unwanted treasure, but am unsuccessful. It still smells.
Play with the neighbors in the front yard, we are all easily amused at the tube found in the trash that we have just made into a vuvuzela.
I sit down to read a bit of The Sun, and get inspired to write. I go in search of a pen and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. OHMYGOSH how long has it been since I plucked my eyebrows!
Get thoroughly distracted grooming the amount of hair between my eyebrows that should not, does not, belong there. I don't end up writing.
Get hungry and decide to get creative. With the help of the Peace Corps cookbook, I decide to bake... banana bread... without an oven.
(You should know that good banana bread is one of my favorite things... ever.)
I am a shit show in the kitchen trying to figure this out. But, you make due with what you have and make it up as you go (I am inserting this into my list of new life theories.) I build the oven with rocks and pots over our little burner, mix the ingredients, and expectantly stare at the pot as I wait for the rising ingredients inside it to bake.
I just had to share the outcome... the bottom is as burnt and black as you can possibly imagine, but the top tastes like... bananas! Altogether I am thrilled with my results. Banana Bread = success.
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