Baking Shortbread
After church today I huddled on the porch with my family and we made shortbread in the rain. I balanced the large silver bowl between my knees and cut the flour with the butter, rhythmically rubbing my hands. My host mom showed me how to bake it on the coal pot and I made a careful diagram. Next weekend we’re doing banana bread and the “lead bread” they sell on the road. She knows how to do gingerbread too. Oh, I’m in trouble!
While we were baking Princess asked if I had any books about cells. I brought her a science book from the shelf outside my room (circa about 1942) and asked if she knew how to find it. She bit her lip and shook her head. I taught her what an index is and we practiced looking things up. “In less than five minutes,” I said, “the index will tell you if a book can help you.” Her eyes sparkled. Knowledge is power.
My mom is giving me a baking pan, some shapes, and a measuring cut to take to site. I am so humbled by their generosity. In two weeks I’ll cry almost like I did leaving Missouri. Almost.
SHORTBREAD
Liberian Market
4 heaping cans of flour ($100LD worth or so)
2 cups sugar, not packed ($40LD worth)
2 cups butter ($100LD)
1 eating spoon baking powder ($20LD)
1 whole nutmeg ($25LD)
1 small can evaporated milk, 170g ($30LD)
2 ½ cups water
½ eating spoon salt
America Estimates
4 cups flour
1 cup sugar
1 cup butter
1 tbsp baking powder
1 whole nutmeg
2 ½ to 3 cups milk
½ tbsp salt
Put the flour in a large clean pan. Reserve a little to line the baking pans. Add the butter and sift/cut it between your hands until combined. Grate in the nutmeg and stir in the baking powder. It will help to have two people so one person is continually mixing with their hands while the other person adds things.
Open the milk and combine with the water in a small cup. You can use only milk if doing a smaller batch or you don’t mind spending the money. Stir the salt into the milk.
Butter and flour the baking pans. Add small amounts of milk while stirring with a spoon. Start in one corner or the bowl and make just as much batter as you need to fill one baking pan. Spoon it into the pan and spread evenly, leaving a rough texture on top. You might not need all the milk/water.
Place the small pan inside a larger pot and place on the coal pot with only a small fire underneath. Place a piece of zinc or tin on top of the pot and cover with a big pile of hot coals on top. (You may need to fan them.)
After awhile check the bottom of the bread. Take it out carefully, turn the pan and check the bottom. It should be golden too. Add more coals underneath if necessary and return to heat. (If the bottom is sticking the flour is bad. It shouldn’t stick if you flour/butter the pan well.) It will be golden and crusty on top. Estimated baking time is 45 minutes to 1 hour.
Remove from heat and cool. Put second pan in if necessary.
Want more Liberian recipes? Check out these other posts:
Teaching Angles
Students here are very good at memorizing. I noticed they could rattle off things about angles, but were drawing tiny ones and writing giant numbers next to them. So Wednesday I made a big chalkboard protractor for my trig class. They’d never seen one!
After class Amy, who had observed my class, suggested I make small ones for them. At the time I thought, “What’s wrong with you? Isn’t this enough?” But I slept on it and decided she was right. This was a gift I could give my kids. This might be the only time someone takes the time to literally connect the dots with them. So I spent about three hours making eighteen small paper protractors with my headlamp and Swiss Army knife scissors.
I gave a speech before handing them out, begging them to be respectful of my work and they stared at me. Stunned. It was obvious they rarely (if ever) drew and measured things in class. Even my struggling students tried excitedly as I circled the room offering gentle tips. I asked for a volunteer to put one of their angles on the board and was shocked to see one of my quiet girls, Eunice, raise her hand, smiling. I called her up and she drew a difficult angle, crooked unlike the neatly oriented ones I’d been making. I held my breath and watched. Flawless! I congratulated her for doing such a hard one and she beamed.
I have worked hard for model school, but I have gotten back my investments one hundred fold. I cannot wait to meet the kids that I’ll have the next two years. This is exactly where my life and my heart have been leading me. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Oops!
I wore my new math lapa dress to teach today. First period the zipper started working its way down my back… yikes!
School beats Television?
11th grade classroom at Lango Lippaye
We finished divisibility rules for factoring and they got it. They all got it. They were clapping, smiling, yelling out answers as a group. It was amazing! People walking past outside told me later that they wished they were inside, “It sounded like so much fun!” Factors? Really?! No fancy activities. Just a lot of student participation mixed with Liberian sound effects (“Oooooh!” and “Arrrharrr!”) and jumping around.
I hope I can carry this energy to Sanniquellie. If I love the kids this much after a week I’m absolutely doomed there!
Tonight I carried my books into the living room to lesson plan. An Indian show blared on the TV as I mapped out composite functions. All of a sudden Luke scooted over with a big grin and see what I was doing. He asked for paper and I got the crayons. He danced then got to work. Within fifteen minutes the rest of the kids surrounded us. Titus, Samuel, and David asked for the animal flash cards. No one cared about the TV. Auntie Leelia studying was the show tonight. It was awesome. I almost did a Luke happy dance as the happiness overflowed.
Getting ready to say goodbye (again)
View from the 12th grade classroom at Lango Lippaye, the only government school in Kakata.
I will miss these kids so much and the little community of Sugar Hill. If this is what two months feels like, I struggle to imagine how I’ll feel in two years. Something huge is happening to me, something so much bigger than myself. I am becoming. Oh, am I ever becoming.
Tonight I graded 12th grade homework. At the bottom of his page Moses wrote, “Thank you for making us use our brains.” No, Moses, thank you. This was our second class together.
Eat, Cook, Love
WONDERFUL weekend in Monrovia! St. Theresa’s feels like an absolute mansion. Current! “Fast” internet! Running water! A bed raised off the floor!
I feasted. Soft serve twist ice cream cone. Pizza and Diet Pepsi. Candy bars and Combos. BRUNCH on Sunday. At least four cups of brewed coffee (no instant packets), pancakes, fruit, vegetables (broccoli?!), quiche, tarts, cake. We ate for hours. No, really, we ate for hours. At least two, and some people stayed longer. I was in physical pain from too much food and it felt amazing. Gluttony, I never thought we’d meet again. It was $15US, but I’ll do it again every time I’m in town.
We chartered a cab home and Matt and I spoke Mano with the driver. I’m feeling at home here. I’m loving Mama Liberia. Four of us in the back felt so normal. You can get used to anything with time.
Princess and David helped me make coconut candy while I blasted American music and we danced next to the coal pot. I was on cloud nine as I slipped into my new sea-foam green lapa suit and walked into the living room for approval. Princess gasped and put her hand to her mouth. Everyone clucked and cooed. I wanted to see! I positioned my camera on the window ledge and ran across the room to beat the timer. I turned just in time to see it crash to the cement floor.
It’s broken. I was devastated. Just when I felt Titanically unsinkable, I hit a ‘burg below the surface. “Can I please get a different kind of break?” I sobbed.
Life here is often at the extremes as your best days fade seamlessly into your worst days.
When I got home from Monrovia yesterday the kids dropped their chores and ran to me, screaming. “Leelia! Leelia! We missed you sooo much,” they said as we hugged. I have rarely felt so completely loved and accepted.
COCONUT CANDY
Liberian Market
2-3 small to medium coconuts ($25-35LD each)
1 medium can sugar ($40-50LD worth)
Small piece ginger
America
3 cups shredded coconut (about a bag)
1.5-2 cups sugar
Small piece ginger
Check that the coconuts are not cracked and shake them to make sure they are not spoiled (it you feel anything sloshing around besides the water it’s probably bad). Break the coconuts open. You don’t need the coconut water for anything so you can drink it or set it aside. Wash the flesh in clean water. Carefully peel the brown skin off with a knife and grate it into a clean bowl (this takes about an hour). If using ginger, wash, peel, grate, and add it now. Mix thoroughly.
Pour the sugar into a clean dry pot and heat until melted, using a cooking spoon to break up any chunks that form. Add the coconut and stir to coat. Keep it on the heat and stir until is starts to dry and get sticky.
Spoon out a small amount and roll it into a ball or press it flat like benne seed candy. Leave in a clean pan to cool.
Makes 25-35 small candies. Takes 2-3 hours over a coal pot in Liberia.
New Clothes, a Revival, and Hugs from Home
Week one of model school is done and packages have arrived for the first time in over a month! I hadn’t gotten any yet and there was a rumor I had one. I collected mine from Prince. Three! Two from my mom (plus a letter) and one from Laura who went home in June. Jackpot! Christmas in July! People sat on the porch unpacking boxes and I wanted to stay and look at mine, but I had a lot to do at home. I needed to get my lapa suits, shop for coconuts with Princess, pump water, get to the revival and pack for Monrovia.
I got a ride home from Doe Palace and raced inside, dumped my loot on the floor and had dinner: fried chicken, a hot dog, potatoes with onions, and bread with cheese and jelly. Esther and Luke took me to the pump and the women shrieked to see me pump my own water—and some of theirs. I stopped to speak small Kpelle and Mano with them and they loved it. Sharon, who lives by the pump, gave us some popcorn and I carried our bucket home.
Princess and I raced to get my lapas and our coconuts. My clothes are fine, but not quite as fine-o as I’d hoped. The dress has no special adornment (I’d imagined orange ribbon?) and he forgot my pockets. The dress also features the letters more prominently than the numbers, but oh well. Liberians still love it. It’s just…. plain. The suit isn’t quite what I imagined either, but I haven’t tried it on. I really want to shop for fabric and I’m really annoyed I have to go to town this weekend, even if it means electricity and internet and food. Swearing in is coming up and I want something very special to meet President Ellen. My tailor, Prince, took two weeks to make these so I don’t want to wait too much longer.
Around 8:00 we finally left for the revival. I’ve only been out that late once before and it was in the car. It’s dark! It was surreal though to hear no one say “white woman!” until we were far down a lighted portion of the street (15 minutes?). A man started yelling that he loved me and grew upset when I said, “Thank you,” and kept walking. I beamed in the dark to hear Princess put him in his place. “She not want you, man. Don’t embarrass yourself, eh?” She was protecting me!
A few dozen people assembled at church and Princess motioned I should sit with her and the other children. Usually they put me in the first or second row with the adults. We watched a huge praying mantis scale the wall, they let me (try to) play the sasa, my dad anointed people with oil and two women fell to the floor shouting. Successful revival. Oh, and I made a small boy cry on the way out.
We got home around 10:30 and I decided to open my packages. I opened the oldest one first: running tights, skittles, ipod charger. My mom packed everything in ziploc bags and when I opened the tights a big whiff of home filled my nostrils. I lost it. It was the closest feeling I’ll get to a hug from home. It was my apartment, my mom, my familiar life, all wrapped in a smell. I carefully folded them and put them back in the bag. I wanted to save that as long as possible!
The next box went on and on and I was so flooded with memories from home I couldn’t see through the tears. I was so washed over with love I couldn’t process, gratitude I couldn’t voice. This box was huge. And I don’t mean in size. Huge in the tools it contained. Books! A Dr. Seuss collection! The copy of The Wizard of Oz my mom had as a child with gorgeous pictures that always makes me think of my grandma’s house. This is probably my new most-treasured possession. I hugged it to my chest and cried, unable to believe it was in Africa! Everything smelled like home. Everything felt like home.
There was the Uno deck, the same one my family has used since before I knew colors and numbers, and Ninja Turtle cards. Flash cards. Decks and decks of flash cards! Activity books, crayons, notebooks, math books, Missouri wildlife pamphlets and magazines. Luke will FREAK OUT when I show him the one about ducks. Frisbees, tote bags… the tote bag I packed my lunch in every day before walking to the Missouri Theatre. I’m sure my mom had no idea, but it was so eerie. Holding it in my hands tonight, in Africa, I thought of how bad I wanted this experience each day I locked my front door and went to sit (and eat lunch at) that desk.
More than making me homesick, the boxes brought a bit of home to me, to my Liberian family, to my kids. I am so excited to share some of this with them! It will really mean the world. And all of this is in addition to Laura’s box which had a jump rope, crayons, activity books, balloons, inflatable balls, candy, stickers…. it went on and on. I am so grateful! I even forgot until just now that all I was hoping for was a gray t-shirt and none came. (I’m out of clean clothes and it just keeps raining.) So little of this is for me, but it all feels like it is in a way. Because I get to share it, teach with it, laugh about it. And those laughs and smiles could power me through a lifetime of this.
I feel so loved, so blessed, so grateful.
School Daze
The 9th grade classroom. Yes, the hole in the ceiling leaks when it rains.
By the time the afternoon rolled around I was exhausted. My head hurt and I was hungry. I needed to lay down and rest, but we were still in session. I hadn’t even started my Thursday lesson plans and I knew I’d spent 2-3 hours on the ones I did today… each! I sat alone in a classroom, bleeding out binomial squares and crossing out every other line. I face plated on the desk with a sigh and watched a mouse dart between desks. This is Africa, I thought.
This is the part that will be hard for me. No quiet library with books and big tables. No Google. No stapler, paper clips, or desk. I carry my papers, chalk, and duster from room to room: a nomad.
I got home tonight and Princess announced we were going to the revival. My heart sank. I had way too much work. I was way too behind on sleep. Would they take me another night I asked earnestly? Then I remembered I had to go to Monrovia this weekend. Really?! I’d said I’d go another time, but Peace Corps said I had to. But lapa shopping, revival and coconut candy! Not to mention doing wash. Ugh.
I sat on my yoga mat and flipped through my books for functions. I finished around 9:00 and only David was left at home. I was drawing my bath and we got into a discussion about America.
He had so many questions. Quiet David! He asked about animals, how we wash clothes, if we hate to walk, if there are black people. I brought out some pictures to show him. He was delighted with Chase and the cats. “Fine animals! And so BIG!” We talked about school and I’m not sure he’s ever spoken to me so much! I wonder if he just doesn’t have much self confidence. He isn’t necessarily shy, just quiet. I catch him dancing or singing to himself all the time and he flashes his giant smile and bursts into laughter.
I continue to be humbled by how some people seem to see America as a fantasy land… in a lot of ways, I guess, like how I saw Africa just a few months ago. I told David I was struck my how similar things were, though. People are still just people. They cook, wash, go to school and work, do “people things.”
He smiled and laughed.
We meet ourselves time and again in a thousand disguises on the paths of life.
– Carl Jung
New Clothes and Big Dreams
Esther poses in the new outfit she got for the 26th.
I’m one part nervous, two parts excited. I’m planning to wear my lapa suit to try to make a positive impression—can’t wait to get the others Friday! I’ve already decided I’ll go lapa shopping Saturday and drop more off. I have a really slick collared dress in mind I’d like to try next.
All the kids got new clothes today and in the afternoon they all dressed up and Princess took me and Esther on walkabout. When I got my suits we’re going to go take a picture at a photo booth. Is it lame that I’m really excited about that?
My family is great. I sat on the porch with the kids late last night, playing ‘I spy’ and talking about spelling and dreams. Princess shocked me by saying she wants to be a computer analyst. She’s never used a computer but said she’s very impressed by people who can. I want to contact Thad and see what resources might be available to her. Lango Lippaye has a computer lab, but her school doesn’t. Even if she just starts learning to type, I want to do everything I can to help her. Being able to use a computer will throw the door open on her future job prospects.
She also told me she wants to go to University of Liberia in Monrovia. I was so proud of her and I encouraged her to follow those dreams. I can’t change her life, but I can help her believe that she can, give her hope and a little light.
She is why I came to Africa.
Tiny Cups of Freedom
Luke pretends to hide from me.
Red oil soup. Sigh.
After dinner I wanted to walk with Princess and shop for 26th presents, but I didn’t know where she was so I went on my own. I was out of Laughing Cow so I walked to AB’s to get some and something cold to drink. It was refreshing not to need my Liberian English or to bargain (even though he always gives me a discount anyway). I got a nice cold Coke and wandered down the road toward Lango Town.
A woman called me over to sher “shop” and I bought bracelets for Esther and Princess (even though I’m pretty sure she ripped me off bad). I kept walking and all of a sudden a mob of young men filled the street shouting and chanting. I was pushed to the side and a caravan passed, a man hanging out of the sunroof of the lead car. It was George Weah, Ellen’s big rival in the election. This wasn’t somewhere I should be so I was glad they kept driving and the crowd dissipated.
The market crowd was thick and rowdy in anticipation of tomorrow’s holiday, but I felt relaxed and glad to be out. Seven weeks ago I would have been overwhelmed, nervous, out of place. But I wove through the crowd greeting people, chatting, enjoying my soft drink and a small sense of freedom.
The sun was starting to set so I cut back past Matt’s house and was winding home when I ran into David and Esther going for coal. I asked if I could join them and we retraced my steps to the market. David bought a bag of coal and I wandered over to a table of ‘smal tins.’ Esther read my mind and scampered over eagerly, David close behind. I bought stick candy and surprise toy candy (Chinese Easter eggs) for everyone and we headed back. The secret toy was really lame–everyone got the same doll-size plastic cup–but they loved it and we literally played with them all night.
They are such good kids. I worry I buy too much for them lately, but they work so hard for so little and they bring me so much joy. I have to enjoy having a family while I can! It will be hard to spoil only half a dozen kids at site. I won’t be able to say “Dis my broler” or “Dese my sistas” when they swarm with hands out.
They’ve given up bedrooms and meal portions for me, drawing extra water and washing extra dishes. And they never say no or complain, even when I seem to be embarrassing (although I think I might just be cool sometimes). For the 26th I got lapas for my mom, ol’ ma, and auntie. They’re all fine-o! It was so crazy in the market I didn’t manage to get the stick candy for my brothers. I’ll figure something out tomorrow. I still have a few things from home and besides, I just bought them a football and made benne seed candy!
I’m behind on lesson plans for model school, but everything will happen somehow. Life moves forward. I honor the progress I’ve made.
Luke performs the 'chicken dance' I taught him. His main chore is catching all the ducks and chickens at night so he delights in strutting his new moves.
life magnanimous 