Chapter 6
The endless din of jungle noises grew quieter with
the setting of the sun on the western horizon. Wood smoke and the scent of
dinner cooking at the camp kitchen wafted through the trees. As Patty and Celeste came up the stairs to
the eating area, they noticed Madeleine and Christiana working on dinner, the
elder of the two stirring a large pot of stew. Madeleine was in
her early thirties; fully figured with wide hips and a full bosom, she was the
wife of Amos, their guide who brought them up the Congo River. Madeleine had large facial features with gargantuan
lips and flared nostrils on her wide nose.
She had a full head of black frizzy hair. She wore a long kitenge with a bright floral
print, worn as a dress with a matching head scarf.
Christiana was baking round pieces of dough on rocks
beside the camp fire.
“Oh you are in for a treat tonight.” Roger smiled.
“You’re going to get Madeleine’s signature dish… Mbindjos stew. Its actually Mwamba,
a traditional Congolese stew.”
“Do we want to know what’s in it?” asked Patty.
“Sure. You may as well get used to it. Mbindjos are butterfly larvae and a good source
of protein for us as well as for the bonobos out here.”
“Yuck. Seriously?” Patty looked nauseous, alarm
registering in her eyes. She looked at Celeste for support.
“I’ve had them before. They’re really not bad at
all. Think of them as prawns, they’re delicious!” Celeste smiled and her eyes
lit up.
The group sat in cheap plastic lawnchairs at a long
table made from several smaller tables. Mike came down the stairs from the hut
on the hill and pulled up one more table. Kerry sat down on one end while
Rebecca sat at the other end, beside Spencer.
“Where is Ted and Amber?” Mike asked.
“Who knows, they’re always late.” Said Kerry.
“They’re probably trying to finish one argument
before they start another.” added Rebecca.
The group laughed and shared knowing looks.
“Everyone settled in?” asked Mike, changing the
subject.
“You bet.” Roger pointed at Patty. “The girls are in the guest tent. I see our friend is still around?”
Mike turned and looked at the girls, “Yes, over the
past few months a fully grown leopard has been crossing through the camp at
night, leaving fresh tracks in the mud. One of the porters saw him at daybreak yesterday
morning and woke me up but the leopard was long gone by the time I got there. He’s
very evasive but he still lets us know that he is around.”
“Great. Any
more news before I get too comfortable?” Patty smiled, only a little bit
amused.
“Oh it’s not so bad. You’re safe enough in your tent
if you can keep Roger out.” Mike
laughed. There were no secrets between
the two men. It was no secret that Christiana had ended up in Roger’s hut.
Christiana brought metal plates and stainless steel
bowls along with a plate of fufu, a starchy dough made of mashed cassava and
corn flour. The golf-sized balls are baked with a large thumb print
indentation, which is used to ladle a thimble-full of soup or stew into one’s
mouth with the first bite.
Madeleine brought a serving bowl with her Mbinjos
stew in it. It was a thick stew with pieces
of starchy manioc floating in a gravy-like broth, along with spices and
vegetables. Several large curled white shrimp-like larvae were floating on the
top. As she ladled each person a bowl of soup, pieces of meat came up from the
bottom.
Kerry was watching the girls. “Its okay. The meat is
pork. We have pigs, a goat and chickens.”
She said in her delightful southern accent.
Spencer, quiet until now, spoke up, “Not any more, I
believe this is the goat. I saw them leading him up the hill to the kitchen
this morning.”
“No! Not Maurice? Why didn’t they use one of the
pigs instead?” Kerry was clearly heart broken. “I can’t eat this.. not today.” She
pushed her bowl away and called to the cook in French.
“Madeleine, Est-ce la viande de chèvre dans cette ragoût? Ce n'est pas Maurice est-il?”
(This isn’t the goat in the stew is it? It’s not Maurice is it?)
“Oui.. c'est la chèvre.” (Yes, it’s the
goat.) Madeleine was emotionless. “Madame,
Quel est le
problème avec
mon ragoût? (Madam, is there a
problem with my stew?) Madeleine
took a sip from the ladle.
“Oh non non ce n'est pas votre ragoût. Il n'ya rien de mal
avec votre ragoût! (Oh no, it’s
not your stew. There’s nothing wrong with your stew!) “Mais pourquoi sommes-nous manger Maurice? Pouvez-vous s'il
vous plaît nous apporter quelque chose d'autre?(But why are we eating Maurice? Can you please bring us something else?”)
Madeleine left the dining area shaking her head. She
returned with a dish of Lituma, round balls of mashed plantain which are baked
as a dessert.
“Oh she’s just being obstinate” Kerry said. “Here
ladle me some soup but don’t give me any of Maurice. Maybe tomorrow.”
The others laughed as she tried not to.
“That’s life in the Congo for you. One day you’re
here and the next you’re in the soup.” smiled Mike.
“I liked that goat. He was gentle.” Kerry pretended
to pout, now over the shock that her favourite pet had become the main
ingredient of tonight’s stew.
Celeste was not showing much reaction. She had lived
in camps several times before and quite enjoyed African cooking. Goat was a
very common source of meat throughout Africa. Her mother was a very good cook. In Africa, modest eateries called Ngandas dot
the road sides. They are often owned by
unmarried women, serving a niche somewhere between bars and restaurants and are
often used by low to middle class people. Celeste’s mother had opened a Nganda
in Freetown. Ngandas will often arrange their
menus according to their clientele, for example some serve food preferred by
migrant farm workers while others cater to government workers or miners,
etc. Celeste’s mother had catered to
diamond miners and her specialty was pili pili chicken. Pili pili is a very hot pepper available
throughout Africa. The thought of eating larvae didn’t bother Celeste in the
least; grasshoppers, caterpillars and insect larvae are very common snacks in
Africa. She didn’t think it any worse than the sardines, escargo or caviar
enjoyed around the world.
Patty sipped on a spoonful of mwamba, surprised at
the flavour. Madeleine knew her spices.
Patty was hungry and like the others, she took a round fufu and dipped it
in her stew. She enjoyed the stew very much including a second bowl. For
drinks, they drank palm wine, made from the sap of the local palm trees. It was
fermented in earthen jars until it reached between five and seven percent
alcohol content and served at room temperature.
Roger lifted his glass, “To Maurice” and every one
joined in except Kerry.
“Poor Maurice… my poor poor Maurice” was all she
could say as she ladled herself a second bowl of stew, shaking her head in mock
pity.
During dinner, the group enjoyed some friendly banter
about life in the Congo. Mike and Roger swapped humorous stories about various
camps they had worked at together over the years. Spencer told the group about a gorilla who
had fallen in love with him in a zoo in Belgium. Everybody had a good laugh
when Mike imitated a chimpanzee who had also fallen very much in love with him
as a teenager. Ted and Amber showed up
just as Christiana was cleaning up dinner, though they managed to scrape together
a couple plates of luke warm stew and a few leftover fufu.
For dessert, everyone enjoyed Lituma, the mashed
plantain balls as well as Chikwanga which is similar to tapioca but it is
sweetened with raw cane sugar, wrapped in a banana leaf and roasted by a fire
until it is cooked to a medium rare consistency. It is very delicious.
The group pushed back from the table and shared
small talk for a little while more, with night sounds from the jungle in the
background for several more good stories. As the evening light faded, Celeste
yawned, triggering Patty to yawn also.
Roger came to their rescue. “Oh look. We need to let
our new guests get some sleep. We were up pretty early this morning.”
Patty nodded, still finishing off her yawn.
“What time do you want us up in the morning?” Patty
asked.
“Oh the breakfast gong goes off at eight, so if you
want a shower, be up before that.” Mike added, “You’ll notice I put machetes in
your tent. I recommend you sleep with them.”
“Might we ask why?”
Celeste asked, her curiosity peaked.
“Snakes mostly.” Mike said, looking at Roger as he
added with a twinkle in his eye. “There are all kinds of wild animals that will
want to climb into bed with you, never mind our leopard friend who comes and goes
as he pleases. I suggest you take a
bucket with you if you have to pee at night. We have flashlights charging here
at the kitchen if you want one.”
The girls got to their feet with Roger. “What do we
do if we see a wild animal at night?” asked Patty.
“Just stay calm” said Roger, “I keep a hand gun in
my tent and if you yell ‘snake!’, Madeleine will be there chopping it in to pieces
before you can shake a stick at it. She uses the heads for her black magic.”
A shiver ran through Patty as she got up to find a
flash light. The circuitry of fear response
in humans was honed by evolution, but people who learn to associate terrifying
consequences with neutral stimuli, before a logical threat has even developed
are said to suffer with fear conditioning.
Not unlike the experiment with Pavlov’s dog, who thought he would eat
every time Pavlov rang a bell, people can develop fears, based on unconsciously
stored memories in their amygdala, and react with terror long before they
really need to. Patty was just such a person.
