The Essence of the Journey!

Whizpoppers

 As Roald Dahl would describe a whizpopper – a small explosion between the legs.  One comes to realize that this is a bit of a luxury travelling around these parts of Africa.  We’ve had a surprisingly good run considering the lengthiness of the trip.  After 10 months, it is only now that we are battling to fart with confidence.

As one approaches the horn of Africa, yeast and or baking powder ceases to exist.  Raised bread is replaced with injera or teff pancake.  This seems to have a sour/bitter after taste and accompanies just about any dish.  This is served on a large tray that would normally hold about 12 beers at the local pub, but presentation in these parts is the injera in the middle, flopped over on the edges where the size and shape is inconsistent with that of the presentation dish.  There is then a sauce of sorts, in a bowl in the middle.  This sauce depends on what is in season at the time: a touch of onion, chilli, tomato, chickpeas, paprika, sometimes meat, sometimes other vegetables like aubergine, garlic.  There is a lack of seasoning generally.  So who eats injera? Everyone. Why?  There is nothing else.  I have always believed in eating local, sampling culture so to speak when visiting a new country especially.  Mostly everything works out fine.  Every now and then a gogga (Afrikaans for little gremlin) gets into the system and then things go wrong.

Fresh water comes at a premium in these parts and with it a culture of scrubbing and cleaning.  The best advice I could give, would be not to look at the kitchen.  Often, though there is not much of a kitchen.  It is generally an area behind a wall, sometimes with a table, sometimes not.  I wouldn’t generally seek out or look for the kitchen, but often it is on the way to the bathroom/place of relief.  What is lost in 1^st world hygiene standards is made up in smiles and friendliness.  I’m not sure how far these two go in killing off germs and bacteria, but… 

Nicolai & Danica have not really got into this food wholeheartedly. Maybe this has some positive points.  They have probably got a lower germ count than one who would typically attack this food vigorously. 

I know it is uncool and unhip, but after travelling in these parts a while, one looks forward to the odd establishment that has a menu that one can recognize, sort of know what you’re eating.  Even toast can be used as a plug, I mean food of recognition.  Tasty with a marmalade spread, not much hint of citrus skin though.

Sudan replaces injera with an equally flat, unleavened bread.  This again is served with everything.  There is a bean type curd called ful.  This is a premium dish as sometimes the food is eaten just with the sauce that has had these beans in it.  This is presented in a metallic cooking jug or gidrawhich could also be used for milking goats.  I’m unsure if this ever gets emptied out or whether they just add more beans from time to time.  Once again seasoning is absent, perhaps the salt traders and their camels from the Danakil do not come this far.

But the Sudanese do not only have beans – no, they have goat too.  This can be stewed like a bredie.  The dish seems to have an interesting aroma, but I’m unsure what is in there.  The taste is fairly bland although the sauce is colourful.  Then they have long-tailed sheep which is prepared on a bed of hot-rocks.  The idea is good.  They take the generally fatty meat, and let it cook and cure over these sizzling rocks.  Perhaps Spur got their hotrock idea from here?  Excuse me, I can feel a cramp coming on …