SE1 - Oatmeal in Africa

            It’s 7am and the sun has just emerged over the horizon as I unzip my tent and am greeted by the scent of a smoldering fire. Atop the fire sits a grate and a five gallon pot that will soon produce breakfast. As Beau stirs the contents of the pot, I find my stool around the fire and adjust to the fact that I am now awake. After a short while the pot is transferred from the fire and onto the metal table. As he calls out “breakfast is served!” the rest of the team emerges from their tents and makes their way into the breakfast line. Now, with all 15 of us in line we say a short prayer and make our way through the table.

First up there is of course the bowls, followed by the main dish of Jungle Oats which is an African brand of oatmeal. Then there is an assortment of add-ins: apples, peaches, peanut butter and sugar, but not just any sugar, the sea salt of the sugar world. Once my oatmeal creation is done I find my way back to my stool, sitting in the sand. There I open my bible to the day’s reading and set it in my lap. Now it is time to begin the delicious dive into my oatmeal. As I stir the apples into the oatmeal, steam surges out of the bowl. Not too soupy but not too thick, my oatmeal is the perfect consistency and tastes as good as it looks. The cool crunch of the apples combined with the hot gush of the oatmeal is the ideal combination. Sitting their indulging in my oatmeal and reading my bible, I look around at my fellow team members and friends who are doing the exact same thing and I am overwhelmed with a sense of unity and belonging.

You are probably now thinking what is wrong with this girl, why on earth is she writing about oatmeal? Most people hate oatmeal, it is that bland food that makes them gag. However the scene I described above comes from time spent in Africa. A group of twelve of us from my church partook in this mission’s trip last summer, spending fifteen days in Zambia and that was the scene we witnessed and experienced every morning.   

The first morning in Zambia, when I realized we would eat oatmeal for breakfast every day I was terrified as I had never been a huge oatmeal fan. That day I ate half of a bowl with no add-ins and was hungry half way to lunch. The next day, Michelle, my best friend and tent mate, convinced me to add in some apples and sugar. This bowl of Jungle Oats was the difference between day and night when compared to the bowl the day before. I ate the whole bowl and was satisfied through the long hours of walking between villages. The following days I tried peanut butter like Troy and peaches like Dwight but nothing was as good as my apples and sugar combo. It was amazing to see how many different combinations the team could make out of those four add-ins and how different they all tasted. The oatmeal gave each person a way to demonstrate their creativity and show their personality.       

As the trip drew to a close, many people were sick of the oatmeal, hoping to never see another oat again; but some, like me, didn't want to leave the Jungle Oats behind. Dwight even went as far as to buy five boxes of Jungle Oats to shove into his suitcase and bring back to the states. For months afterwards he would post on Facebook about how wonderful eating the oats was, adding #Africa and #Memories. Reading these posts the little green monster inside me grew larger and larger. Eating the Jungle Oats gave Dwight a way to go back and revisit the memories we had created in Africa.     

            Today when I eat oatmeal it brings me back to a time of wonderful memories. It was time full of once in a life time experiences: petting a zebra, going on safari and peeing on bats; but more than that it was a time of bonding, of feeling terrified and comfortable at the same time, of feeling guided, of having purpose, of being free.

Last Meal Reflections

After spending some time reading about the last meal that college students had eaten I was slightly amazed at the variety of the meals. First off the blogs were written a bit before noon, so one could assume the last meal eaten was breakfast. However, there were several whose last meal had been dinner the night before, a few who had actually eaten breakfast and a couple whose last meal had been lunch. It was interesting to see how college students, who should have so much in common, have surprisingly different eating habits. Although I will say the all of student’s whose last meal was dinner the night before were male. So maybe it’s not as much a generational difference but a gender difference.    

Ahn and Nicholson - Significance of Food

Both Ahn and Nicholson were able to paint a picture of how the food in their life has a greater significance. Nicholson shows us how the food we eat gives us comfort in our lives. “Whatever the reason, white food was her idea of comfort food.” (Nicholson, Eating White) He starts his story by describing the white sandwich he and his mother shared on many occasions. Nicholson continues by detailing the numerous white dishes his mother had prepared for the family over the years. “She made excellent creamy mashed potatoes … cod, stewed with onions in milk; tripe was served exactly the same way… She cooked cauliflower and served it with a white cornflour sauce. She served blancmange, custards, store-bought cream cakes.” (Nicholson, Eating White) Nicholson’s mother knew the foods she liked and the ones that gave her comfort and she stuck to them. In this way it shows how staying within these foods can give us comfort. Also it can give us comfort in remembering the good times. Nicholson’s mother died years ago and when he eats that plain cheese sandwich he is reminded of his mother and comforted with her memory.

This story also shows how the food we eat can define us. From reading this article I can characterize his mother as a bland, white food eating woman. I can also assume that she is a strong willed and determined woman. Even though she had a family to cook for she was still able to integrate the white color scheme into each meal. The food we eat can define us or give us a cultural identity. Ahn’s story takes this idea into more detail.

Ahn’s parents, immigrants from Korea, cooked food from his homeland which connected him to his ethnicity. However as time passed and he struggled to be comfortable his identity, he strayed from the Korean food and clung to the American foods that his friends were eating, as a way to fit in. As time passed and his parents died, Ahn let himself fade from his Korean cooking until he became a parent and realized how much he wanted to pass down his Korean heritage onto his son. Then it became very important for him to restart cooking Korean food and becoming stronger in his heritage in order to pass it down to his son. His story shows how food is very much a part of and reflects our heritage.

Ahn’s story very much reminded me of my own life. My dad was adopted from Korean when he was two years old. He always made us food that reminded him of where he came from. This was comforting to me and made me feel like I was connected to him and my heritage. However my dad died when I was thirteen, before I was able to learn how to cook the dishes he made. Neither of my siblings nor my mom had ever payed much attention to the food he prepared and once he was gone we all felt not only disconnected from him but also from our heritage. 

Lunchtime!

Two hours ago I sat down in the dining hall for my first meal back on campus. I used the time between trying to buy my textbooks, unsuccessfully might I add, and heading to my second class of the day to eat lunch. It was a rather unremarkable meal seeing as it was meatless Monday and I was alone and in a hurry. To satisfy my lunchtime hunger I had two cheese enchiladas, broccoli and my usual salad. At least once a day I integrate this salad into a meal, it was a decision I made while terrified of gaining the “freshman fifteen.” This salad includes romaine lettuce with some spinach hidden in the middle, black olives and cheddar cheese topped with ranch dressing. The enchiladas weren't bad and the broccoli was rather tasty. Each did their job to fill me up and keep me focused but I prefer a meal that offers more than mere hunger satisfaction. I look forward to lunch tomorrow when it will not be meatless Monday and I can hopefully spend more time to enjoy the meal experience.