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.