September 16, 2012
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Beans from Africa: Day 3
“You need to stop eating beans if you really want to identify with the poor. Poor Brazilians are not able to eat beans anymore because the price has doubled recently.” Karine informed me. I told her it was the principle of the matter. Rice and beans. Roberto, Karine’s husband came over and looked wary. I told him we were not arguing, I was gathering information. Karine said then I didn’t know what arguing was. Apparently, we were arguing.
The farther you go into the interior of Northeast Brazil, the poorer they are, and the more bean prices have gone up. The people are eating more fuba (or cuzcuz—the cornbread like stuff) and macaroni, neither of which has much nutrition. Not the beans! You can’t take away the beans!
I just want to feel something. The idea of cheating on this rice and beans thing promises me it will get rid of the feeling in my tummy of something missing. It says I will relax and be ok afterwards. I know these things are lies, but I just want something and I get to the point where I am just willing to try anything. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to give in because it is weak. It is weak and pathetic, and I know if I just hold on, it will pass. And I know if I can’t do it, how could I ever ask anyone else to. And that is not the world I want to live in.
I think my belly is on strike. It is 2pm and I haven’t eaten anything and I am not hungry. Not hungry for rice and beans at least. I burnt the beans. I learned how to cook them quite well in the pressure cooker at Living Stones. But just a pot and water and I am stumped. It seems that you just have to keep adding water and let it cook for 2-3 hours. That is a long time. That is a lot of remembering to add water. By the time it is 4pm and I haven’t eaten anything, I am ready for rice and crunchy, slightly burnt beans.
My life is becoming rice and beans. My friend Carina just got back from six months in Zambia, Africa. I asked her about her rice and beans stories. Rice in Zambia is something special you might buy for Christmas. It is imported. Their staple food is Nshima, which is a corn mush from maize. They grow it, grind it, cook it, and eat it. Beans are called Chilemba, and are a common side dish (called a “relish). Other relishes are fish, leaves, and caterpillars (when in season). Chicken? Perhaps once a month.
So when Carina wanted to make a meal for her host family to join, she didn’t have enough money to buy everyone something healthier like eggs, so she often chose beans. Luckily, she was always being saved from her cooking by the African women. They would rescue her nshima or chilemba…or would just eat it crunchy or mushy while saying “Chaaaawammmmma!” (Carina’s name in Zambia)in a playful scolding way.
Beans are hard to cook in the bush because they often cook over charcoal, and it isn’t as hot as fire—so it would take hours and hours, and by that time, the nshima was a mushy soup. After a couple times of saving Carina’s cooking, when she would suggest they eat together, her host mom Christine would jump to say, “I will make the chilemba.”
As far as fruit and variety goes, not too much. In season, there are guavas and mangos, but not too many people plant fruit trees. And so even when available, the people don’t always eat fruit because half the time they don’t have it. And you just get used to what you get used to. As Carina put it “fruit is a luxury item that you don’t pay for.”
Currently, Carina is at St. Vincint, one of the poorest islands in the Caribean. But life there is much more colorful and varied—and easier in every aspect than in Africa. She has rice and beans everyday in her communal living situation, but the people on the whole eat a lot of fish, fruit, and different kinds of potatoes that grow rampant and freely. In St. Vincent the original tribe was called ‘Garifuna,’ which means ‘the cassava eating people.’ Rice and beans are common, but normally mixed in with a bunch of other things.
Carina loves me. She got me an Elephant for my birthday, but we both decided to leave it in its natural habitat.
