,Sit. Eat. Eat.‘ I sit in the pavilion and rest. People come and go, exchanged greetings and nods. I join two girls buying charcoal (gas has run out), but I am not supposed to help. ,Sit. Sit. Taste some.‘ I am eating almost constantly and can‘t stop anyone from loading heaps of stew and meat on my plate. ,Add some. It is prepared for you.‘ How can I refuse?
I watch the girls prepare the food and when they bring me a spoon I ask them to show me how to use my hands like they do. It works. ,Lisa, come to the dining room.‘ I realise that I am supposed to eat inside with the parents while the rest have their dinner outside. So I eat again, now with knife and fork. At least the rice. Then: ,Don‘t be shy. Just grab the meat. That‘s the African way.‘
