Hah hah, este blog vai em portugues, desculpe, mas vai assim mesmo. Este fim de semana fui para Sipi com tres amigas minhas. Elas tinham os planos de ir, e como eu sou a aventureira, me queriam como companhia. Tem certeza, eu avisei, olha eu nao sou viajante tradicional. Geralmente meu programa e um pouco mais 'rough'.
Sim Lesley, elas confirmaram, voce e tao legal, tao viajada, tao experiente, etc. etc.
Ok. Beleza, mas falei que, "Olha, sabado to um pouco ocupada, so posso viajar depois da uma. Mesmo assim Lesley querida, venha! Cancele seus compromissos mais tarde. Sipi vai ser legal! Esteja pronta a 12 em ponto!
Ok. Acordei cedo no sabado resolvi tudo que tinha em 1 hora e meia, e entao recebi um SMS. Lesley, a gente se atrasou. So podemos te encontrar as 12.30. Ok. Tudo bem, o que poderia fazer ein? Eu que tinha um montou de coisa para fazer, mas bom. E ja estava a caminho ao ponto de encontro. Mas o ponto era um restaurante, e eu ainda nao tinha almocado. Entao comprei um jornal e sentei para almocar. Ok. 12.30 veio e foi
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Grasshoppers in Season!
You know the matatu rides are very culturally rich and informative!
The other day I was waiting for the matatu to fill up at Kiwatole stage. Stage is the local word for bus stop, and Kiwatole (Chi-wa-to-lay) is my neighbourhood. The Kiwatole stage in Ntinda is always bustling with activity. People selling everything! Fresh fruit and vegetables like pawpaw, pineapples, tomatoes, cabbages, green peas and fresh red beans etc. As well as food for those on the run like roasted plaintain or 'gonja', roasted corn, groundnuts, chapatis and 'rolexes' - which are chapatis rolled with a fried egg, chicken, liver, beef or goat on a stick etc. In between we have the guys carrying everything on bikes - like bananas, cloth, coal, water, as well as the 'boda-boda' (motorcycle taxis) drivers just sitting around waiting for passengers.
So I was scanning the Ntinda-Kiwatole scene looking around to see what was new, if I needed to get anything to buy, or could convince the conductor to go and buy it for me, when my eyes fell onto a boy with a basket of something VERY VERY new, in between the green peas and the ground nuts. It looked like a basket of some kind of bush - some short pieces of grass.
Until one moved!
They were grasshoppers! Considered a delicacy here in Uganda. I thought it was a rural practice, but there they were for sale, right in the middle of Kampala.
The following day at work, I asked about the grasshoppers, and got lots of helpful information.
"Oh you just fly them"
What???? Oh you mean "fry".
"Yes, you just fly them. After removing the leftover wings, then they have to be washed, then after that, just put in the saucepan, add salt, then you start flying them." said the office assistant Robert.
So what do they taste like?
"Oh my friend, I've failed because of the taste! At least me, I prefer ants, because they don't have that smell like those grasshoppers, and they don't have that much oil."
Well me, I'm still thinking about when and whether I will in fact buy a kilo of grasshoppers instead of a kilo of nuts and munch on them on the way home.
I'll let you know when I do.
The other day I was waiting for the matatu to fill up at Kiwatole stage. Stage is the local word for bus stop, and Kiwatole (Chi-wa-to-lay) is my neighbourhood. The Kiwatole stage in Ntinda is always bustling with activity. People selling everything! Fresh fruit and vegetables like pawpaw, pineapples, tomatoes, cabbages, green peas and fresh red beans etc. As well as food for those on the run like roasted plaintain or 'gonja', roasted corn, groundnuts, chapatis and 'rolexes' - which are chapatis rolled with a fried egg, chicken, liver, beef or goat on a stick etc. In between we have the guys carrying everything on bikes - like bananas, cloth, coal, water, as well as the 'boda-boda' (motorcycle taxis) drivers just sitting around waiting for passengers.
So I was scanning the Ntinda-Kiwatole scene looking around to see what was new, if I needed to get anything to buy, or could convince the conductor to go and buy it for me, when my eyes fell onto a boy with a basket of something VERY VERY new, in between the green peas and the ground nuts. It looked like a basket of some kind of bush - some short pieces of grass.
Until one moved!
They were grasshoppers! Considered a delicacy here in Uganda. I thought it was a rural practice, but there they were for sale, right in the middle of Kampala.
The following day at work, I asked about the grasshoppers, and got lots of helpful information.
"Oh you just fly them"
What???? Oh you mean "fry".
"Yes, you just fly them. After removing the leftover wings, then they have to be washed, then after that, just put in the saucepan, add salt, then you start flying them." said the office assistant Robert.
So what do they taste like?
"Oh my friend, I've failed because of the taste! At least me, I prefer ants, because they don't have that smell like those grasshoppers, and they don't have that much oil."
Well me, I'm still thinking about when and whether I will in fact buy a kilo of grasshoppers instead of a kilo of nuts and munch on them on the way home.
I'll let you know when I do.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Where does gravel come from?
My matatu stops at Kamokya (Ka-moh-cha) market everyday next to a several piles of marble stones, pebbles and slabs. I normally sit near to a window, and I idly look at the marble and admire its beauty.
One beautiful Friday afternoon, as usual, we stopped at Kamokya market and I lost myself in the beauty of the marble piles. Large slabs, small slabs, fist-size rocks, penny size rocks and finally small gravelly pebbles.
As a designer, I appreciate the colour, shapes, sizes, repetition of design etc. We normally have to wait at Kamokya for a good while, for other passengers.
This time a noise, a little metallic 'tak,tak,tak', brought me back from my usual daydream to the land of Marble. My eyes followed the direction of the noise, and today I was able to see how all that marble was created.
A man was sitting next to one of the piles and chipping away at the little stones until he had fine pieces of gravel.
I remember about ten years ago, a similar scene in Brazil. There I would lose myself in the beauty of the pavements with the 'Copacabana' black and white wave patterns. Then one day also at a bus stop, in Salvador Bahia, I saw how these patterns were created. Men would go down on their hands and knees and put each little stone in place. I was horrified then. 'That was slave labour!' I had thought, 'How could a man go down on his hands and knees to produce a pavement in 1994! '. Today however, a little more grown-up and maybe hardened by world travelling, I thought almost nothing of this scene, a man turning a slab of marble into gravel, by hand in 2005. It only reminded me of time when I valued human labour so much more.
The matatu had filled up and we pulled off, and my view changed from marble to houses, banana trees etc. I would be able to forget about the man and the gravel till another day.
One beautiful Friday afternoon, as usual, we stopped at Kamokya market and I lost myself in the beauty of the marble piles. Large slabs, small slabs, fist-size rocks, penny size rocks and finally small gravelly pebbles.
As a designer, I appreciate the colour, shapes, sizes, repetition of design etc. We normally have to wait at Kamokya for a good while, for other passengers.
This time a noise, a little metallic 'tak,tak,tak', brought me back from my usual daydream to the land of Marble. My eyes followed the direction of the noise, and today I was able to see how all that marble was created.
A man was sitting next to one of the piles and chipping away at the little stones until he had fine pieces of gravel.
I remember about ten years ago, a similar scene in Brazil. There I would lose myself in the beauty of the pavements with the 'Copacabana' black and white wave patterns. Then one day also at a bus stop, in Salvador Bahia, I saw how these patterns were created. Men would go down on their hands and knees and put each little stone in place. I was horrified then. 'That was slave labour!' I had thought, 'How could a man go down on his hands and knees to produce a pavement in 1994! '. Today however, a little more grown-up and maybe hardened by world travelling, I thought almost nothing of this scene, a man turning a slab of marble into gravel, by hand in 2005. It only reminded me of time when I valued human labour so much more.
The matatu had filled up and we pulled off, and my view changed from marble to houses, banana trees etc. I would be able to forget about the man and the gravel till another day.
Monday, May 09, 2005
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