Food Again

I was about to make rice and beans the other days when I realized that I was out of beans. This sparked off some decidedly grumpy rummaging through my shelves for what food I did have, and some moody contemplation about how easy it is to keep a variety of food in the United States with fridges and stores that regularly sell food—as opposed to the small family owned stores here that sell dry goods, supplemented by whatever happens to be sold on the road that day. And the thing is, I have no reason to complain—I had (outside of rice and live animals) considerably more food on hand than any of my neighbors and could have made a number of meals out of it.

There’s always a huge contrast between ‘need’ and ‘want’, particularly when you’re living around people who show up how little you really need. Malagasy food culture in my rural area is almost entirely subsistence agriculture—people work with their rice from seed to field to cooking pot, and supplement vast quantities of rice with smaller side dishes of whatever is nearby and in season—boiled leaves, fruit, egg, or milk for example, but rarely more than one side dish at a meal. It certainly would gain points from any local foods movement adherents (though not environmentalists, as rice fields are cleared from forest areas and frequently sprayed with strong pesticides, when the farmer can afford it).

Anyway, I made a list of all the food that I had in my house of few days ago, out of curiosity:

Food bought locally:

1 cup raw peanuts

Salt, sugar

1 egg

2 bananas

2 cups rice

Tomato paste

1 onion

Bleach

Food bought in the city:

Peanut butter

Oil

Honey

¼ kilo flour, full of weevils

Cocoa powder

Ketchup

1 bag couscous

Powdered milk

1 head garlic

½ bag raisins, full of weevils

From U.S. care packages or other volunteers:

Pineapple jam (homemade by another volunteer)

Tea

Parmesean cheese

Spices

Emergen-C, Crystal Light

2 granola bars

The weevilly stuff will be consumed after sifting and yes, bleach is a food—I filter and bleach all the water I drink. It tastes like pool water, hence the Crystal Light.

From an American perspective, this is probably the amount of food you’d bring on a weekend camping trip. From a rural Malagasy perspective, it’s a boggling variety of snack food (not enough rice to make a real meal, of course). So the question I always ask myself is—do I feel grateful for the food I have, or wish for food I don’t? I predictably try to do the former and frequently end up doing the latter—I’m grateful that I have clean pool water to drink but man! Sometimes I wish it were orange juice.

And by the way—I made banana pancakes that night, topped with honey. No complaints there.