My Confession
I’m sorry, but I have a confession to make. I always say mama taught me how to cook. She didn’t. She would come home with a bag of corn meal and ask me to empty it in a tin. She also had a rice tin.
She never taught me how to make hard porridge. She just asked me to boil water and put a little salt. She would ask me to scoop out two cups of corn meal from its tin and add it to the water. She would stir it a few times in low heat.
Mama never taught me how to cook vegetables. She’ll ask me to pluck out red chilies from that little plant in the backyard. She would ask me to cut a cabbage in half, chop it and onions too. “Mama, they make me cry.” She cooked the chilies, cabbage, onions, tomato in oil and we’ll eat it with the hard porridge. They call it coleslaw in Canada.
Mama never taught me how to cook meat. We ate it on Sunday and special occasions. She would just ask me to chop beef into pieces, or take out gizzards from a chicken and toss them in oil. She would ask me to feel the joints in the chicken, so that I could cut out wings, thighs etc.
Mama never taught me how to cook. When I complained I was hungry, she would say: Is there something wrong with your hands? Not all the time though. Her eyes would turn misty when she came back from work and entered the kitchen.
You started dinner? Thank you Nonkosi.
By: Nonqaba waka Msimang.
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