Shisa Nyama #fireanddesire

Nyama is Nyama and seems to have the same kind of route word in most African languages and is one of those meals enjoyable anytime of the day, unless of course you are a vegetarian. I love vegetables and plants to much to eat them. okay, that's a cheesy line but I have tried being a vegetarian, for all the health reasons of course but I have always ended up the only person at the dinner table who is different. Its not as if my style of dress does not already do that for me, so I needed to tone down and at least blend in with all the carnivores at dinner.

Is that a fish? The labour of getting the fish ready, is just that: labour and perhaps a special skill that yours truly does not have the patience for and fishing via a boat is all so fun but I seem to want to feed the fish with last nights dinner more than fish and therefore its more appropriate for me to bake in the sun and look into the never ending horizons.

Saving the Worms for another day.

 Dinner time has always been special to me. Its a time to reconvene with the family. A time of silence and conversation. A weird contradiction. Silence as you deal with the food in front of you and conversation whilst you wait for your plate to arrive and conversation once you have dealt with your plate.

Dinner times also sometimes includes simple meals such as peanuts and popcorn. Yep...*day-dreams-about-her-dinners-on-mountains*

I cherish my meal times and I have learnt to be disciplined with them to include an actual scheduled time.  I won't bore you with my timetable lest you find my clinical. My daughter whom we lovingly call Didi, is worse than a Dr's prescription coz three times a day, on a repeat mode, she will remind us of our meal times. She knows the times off by heart and ever since she learnt to read the time. I should never have taught her the time so young :-) She adds to our meal time schedule by shouting out, far too religiously for my liking "15minutes before breakfast/lunch/tea-time/dinner". Yep, who needs boarding school memories erased when I can just live by the torture of boarding school memories and allow my own daughter to have habits like Mrs Brown, my boarding school mistress *shaking my head*.

In all my various dinning experiences from the top of Mt Kilimanjaro, to fire cooked meals, to dinning with friends and 5 star hotel eating, there is just one delicasy, that I cant bring myself to it and that is worms.

I cant even watch my Zimbabwean friends peal them and de-skin them, whilst they are alive its all so YUCK! Says me, who used to cruelly remove the wings off flying ants at boarding school and eat them while they wiggled on my tongue. They pretty much tasted like peanut butter. We'd wash down the taste with some hot chocolate and milo and then it would be lights out!

Its just that with worms, I have this thing that they will wiggle into my mind and then there goes my best treasure. Me loves my brain, my had and hair...Lets put it this way: when it comes to my body: I all all the above!..Blame my idea of worms being dangerous on those chain letters that I hate with all my cyber heart! I once recieved an email with pictures of worms in a brain. That must have been a good 5years ago but the picture together with the sender are stuck in my brain. They are both (picture and sender) supposed to be in my blocked items file, but call it a dysfunction on my part.

Being an adventurous woman of note, I am not sure if I am doing justice to my Adventure title by wanting to excel in my talent of eating in chopsticks when I cant even it beautiful, colourful worms. mmmh. This might just be the push to turn me into a vegetarian.

I will try and find another adventure. Lets skip the worms.



Mankwali

Who are you? Is one of those blunt questions I dislike answering and I have found that a lot of people battle in answering them as much as dislike them. It has some sort of discomfort. Its meant to be obvious. And I have found that through the ever changing times, I am not only a sister of the soil but I am my mother and fathers child even in their absence.

Mankwali is my tribal name, a cupbearer for the King. So my praise names go something like: "Vutela, Mkhwanazi, Nkwali Yenkosi, Shamase, Ndonga, Bhukula, abanye bayazithwala abanye bayazibeletha"... I add on things like "isizukulwana seBhele" which means I am the grand child of MaMbhele, my grandmother...I have also added on my praises and included my maternal grandmother, who had her own special talents and stregths. A notable pig farmer, no doubt that I was taught to love pork from a young age.

I have grown in love with my roots, for my soul is inbedded in them and as I grow, I remember the modest and simple things that my mother and father taught me. Be kind to others, always say "Thank you" and  "sorry" without having to pull your lip.  Always greet and address a peson by their name.  My mother used to remind all  five of her children always say "Goodmonring Mom"  "Good-evening Mr Cedric.", "Good-day Mrs Jones" and always answer the phone with "Zookey speaking, how can I help you." Needless to say our home sounded like some formal firm, and there was an automatic recording of every phonecall. Yep my father on the other line eeves dropping!

Its the strict upbringing, that makes my life fee like a big fat party, now. A party of wanting to always share joy, peace, love, hospitality, good food, conversation and beauty. A party that says you have earned the right to host guests. You know how to pick up a paper, on the floor, even if you have not dropped it. My father was nerve-twitching and frustrating when he'd go on about, being responsible. His definition of being responsible had a lot to do with cleaning up and tyding up and picking up litter and putting things where they belonged.

http://www.mankwali.com/

Another man who taught me much in my life was my uncle whom I call Pabho.  He taught me my  love for beatiful feet. I love clean happy feet not because of anything special but because when I grew up in noble Swaziland, my uncle had gout and after writing my weekly essays, a lesson for me to learn to communicate better, he would make me massage his feet. A chore I took as punishment. Later in my adult life, I have found that the very chores I was taught and loathed, such as cooking, massaging tired and gout-ridden feet and stressed shoulders has become my hobby of sorts.

I love hosting and treating my guests as ROYALTY. My friends complain when I visit them, because I tend to forget that I am the guest and end up washing the dishes, fixing things like skew frames on walls and curtains that I think are flopping. Then when that is over, I sit in the lounge, not watching TV like everyone else but fixing toes, feet and giving tired looking faces a face massage.  

Just reminicing about my parents I guess and celebrating me. Welcome to my blog about the food I like to make and share, maybe one day we can share a bite. Maybe you can try out  my killer vegetable burger and potato wedges soon. Definately a treat and should not be a daily dose, otherwise your hips wont allow you to get through the door!...I write about my travels on http://www.mankwalidestination.wordpress.com/ and my facebook page is www.facebook/ZarlingZookey.com lets stay in touch!

Hanging out with THE BENJAMIN's

#enufsaid!

*movesonup*

Hello Future, where have you been all my life? Woops is that the 3rd Month of 2012 already?? I am late, I am late for a very important date, cant say hallo, goodbye good-old days. Hallo fabulous, funky, trendy, stylisiticly correct present and futre...#Zookeyinwonderland!

Keeping up with the Benjamins!

Well hello Future!
Where have you been hiding yourself?
Really?
Well I think the past kept me away from you, you fabulous thang you.

Third month of the year of our Lord, twenty twelve and what do you know? I grow in love with Ben, short for The Benjamin. haha not just any Benjamin, The Benjamin. To know them is to love them. #stickwithmehoney's...I'll show you places. (http://www.benjamin.co.za/)

Thank you so very much to Fiona, Ariel, Charmiane, Tess, Sli & team for a fabulous weekend. I won't do a marketing shpeel, cause thats just so passe'. Marketing has just moved from yada-yada to being the brand. Something along the lines of: don't do as I say, do as I do! Yeah, you know you wanna so dont give me that funny look. What I will say is: you got to experience their hospitality, their smiles, their french loaf lunch sarmies, their water that screams "drink me now". I am not sure if its the strawberrys, black berries, flowers and lemon slices all nicely chopped up in the water that made water drinking my newest hobby but all I know is that Ben is the newest male name on my lips, after A*** the man after my very own heart! Everything has to be in alphabetic order *naughty grin*

 Hello Future, what was that about me having to loose weight? I cant hear you, please speak a bit louder, you are sounding like an 80year old right now. Oh Shurrup, I am my bra-size so don't tell me to act my bra size not my shoe size. Speaking about sizes, you are acting like my weight right now...okay you win! Sorry reader of my blog, I do have personal conversations with my future every now and then. Funny thing, my future sounds like my older sister! (A 40 something year old with no stretch mark, wrinkle or cellulite)...ggggrrrrr . Yes I am jelous, what went wrong with my genes? Back to me and you, the reader of my blog.

I will come back on here with my new, sexy looking, slimmers type of food, and holding thumbs that my butt would stop having a life of its own, and obey the rules. I own it damn it! It cant be spreading its own gospel

I will, I will, I will find a diet plan with food that does not make me pull funny faces...#bringingbacksexy!!

Stay fabulous or come to The Benjamin! Okay change of mind: lets do both. Fabulous and The Benjamin belong in one sentence, after all.