GLUTEN FREE IN SWAHILI... NGANO HAKUNA!

If anybody who reads this has not heard me say, "Gluten Free is the life for me"- it's high time we spend some more time together. This has become a life slogan, a mantra for health and happiness, my own Hail Mary- if I slip, intentionally or unaware, I am anything but Full of Grace... gas, bloating and diahrrea quickly take its place! Eating is something most take for granted- we have taken a physical necessity, a requirement for life- and turned it into something perfunctory and easy. Especially in the developed world, where grocery stores provide anything, and in mass quantities. Restaurants litter the streets and we become picky with which ones to enter. Don't get me wrong, the convenience and variety available to most people is a blessing of western culture- especially in Boulder and Berkeley, my two hubs of adulthood. Organics, internationals, non-GMOs, fine dining... it's a luxury I have supported and loved. But recognizing this privilege, understanding its place in my life, it's lack of place in most others, and the significance it will have in my future is a seed just breaking my soil's surface, of which I continue to till.
This does not even touch on the idea of ALLERGY! Access is hard enough, but allergy! I can't imagine a life allergic to rice in a place like this- it's everything and everywhere. I never thought myself necessarily "lucky" with the amount of intolerances to food I deal with- but here, I eat like a king... because rice is king- a true kingdom for the gluten free!

STREET FOOD
Just like the hitching debt I owe to my travel crew, they have introduced me to one of the cheapest, sketchiest, and most enjoyable ways to eat in East Africa. And I owe them much more than the money I have saved eating the way we do. We eat in markets and on the side of the road, at trainstations and on the beach. Our food varies very little, but there's always a few questions we ask... in part to make a choice and also to spit out random words and fragments of the kiiswahili we know- and the people, for the most part, love it. We eat "bucket food", so you can imagine the setup:
Usually a group of women, either lined up on the street or with their own little tabletops and thatched roof huts, cooking on charcoal fires in metal pots that probably are older than the women themselves. They make do, and well I might add... screw spending $400 on a calphalon set, I want dinghy, broke-ass aluminum hand-me downs! We walk in and start with "Salaam-a mama, unapika gani?" (Peace mama, what are you cooking) Then they will always fire back, "Karibu! Wali, ugali, mboga, maharage, nyama..." (Welcome! Rice, maize mash, veggies, beans, meat) Our choices then, usually, are between rice and maize mash, and what kind of meat... if there's a choice. Fish and "random" are usually the options. We say what we want, spit out a few more half-phrases which usually make them laugh, and sit down to a meal that costs about 45 cents!
We eat out of rusting bowls and off of communal spoons that get a quick dunk in water (definitely not Evian), and if you get ugali, you get to use your hands... personally, I eat whatever comes with spoons. I can rattle off about 6 different diseases I could easily see in between my grains of rice and kidney beans... Anyone who knows me well, understands this is a far far place outside my previous comfort zone- an evolution, if you will- I have shedded that which does not work, and picked up the necessary adaptions to life on this continent. I barely shared drinks back home- now i'm passing around the pili-pili like it's my job (little hot peppers that everyone shares and squeezes seeds and juice onto their food... third-world Tabasco)! The best part is, I love it- absolutely. It's one of my favorite parts of the day- making my way to the markets and hanging out with the mamas who feed me well. I like to support these entrepeneurs- they are doing something simple but necessary, and in a very special way, provide an insight into daily African culture.
It's not like food in the restaurants is that expensive- you can get a big plate of chicken and rice or fries for about $3.50. I was a little more inclined to do this when I first arrived. I imagined industrial dishwashers, disinfectant and cleanliness in these kitchens- I've worked the restaurants, I have expectations! But my friends quickly explained that cleanliness is in the eye of the beholder- and not in the back of these restaurants. They clean their dishware the same as these women... so why not go to the markets, immerse completely, save money, and let the hesistant white tourists take our spots in restaurants, freeing up a space for me with Mama Jenipha? The laughs I have had and the swahili I have learned place the market high on my "Things You Are Told Not to Do But Must Do Anyways" list.
Here's a list of things I have eaten, so far:
Mozambique- Sting ray, intestines- I think goat but not sure, entire fish
Tanzania- Beef, chicken, goat, fish, stewed bananas

Needless to say, this all comes with rice, beans and veggies- usually a mix of potatos, tomatos, peppers, and leafy greens. It all comes with a "soup"- a tomato-based broth. I can honestly say I have never eaten more beans and rice in my life- it is a blessing that toilet paper in this country costs 25 cents per roll.

UJI
Now this little Tanzanian gem deserves its own section in this litany of gluttonous (not glutenous) adventures. A staple in my diet here- I go to bed just so I can wake up and eat Uji. It is a porridge, made from pounded millet, water and sugar. I'm not sure what kind of millet they use, but it's red in color and has that characteristic nutty sweetness that so many live without tasting... millet and other great grains have been pushed aside by wheat and corn. But it's popular here- i'm not sure how I found out it was millet... that wasn't my first vocabulary word. But we worked through it and I am a better man for the effort. It's not available everywhere, but when you find it you won't be disappointed! It's hot, sweet, and filling- ladled into a cup (kikombe) for you to sit, sip and enjoy. It's not spiced, just sweetened- millet and sugar. If you're lucky, you find someone with a little butter... I had two cups this morning. Once again, you are drinking out of a plastic cup with teeth marks on the rims, probably from the family who once owned them in a foreign country- donated to the third world for tax write-offs and a sense of "contribution". But these people use the shit out of them- they will not give them away... why should they? They still work. They make them money. They still have use.
The other advantage to uji is that it's scalding hot- you cannot suck a cup down, pay your balance and walk away from the cockroaches in 2 minutes. It forces you to sit with others, and often encourages hilarious and valuable conversation. I've met great people while sipping uji- businessmen, housewives, chicken sellers, car washers, masai tribesmen, disabled... the marketplace is a social hub... our "country club" but with free access and absolutely zero health standards! It's a special place.

NIGHT FOOD
I've noticed this mostly in Dar es Salaam, the capital of Tanzania- people eat late... very late. There are street vendors open until midnight, selling anything from meat kababs and grilled bananas to "Zanzibar Mix"- some combination of about 12 different things that look like veggies, matzo and uncooked scrambled eggs... they won't tell you what's in it... kyle loves it... I go for the grilled bananas. But everyone is out- families, guards, singles... it's a late night culture. I have to wonder if it's an Indian influence, which is very large here. Many Indian families call Dar their home, and they bring amazing culture to this port of peace (Dar-es-Salaam means Harbor of Peace). I especially like the guys who walk around carrying their portable pot of chai masala- spicy hot tea that tastes of mulling spices and sugar... a cup is around 2 cents. If you're lucky, you'll happen upon a Tangawizi vendor- ginger. They brew water, ginger and sugar- I could drink about 5 cups... which really only amounts to about 10 cents- but I hold off, not letting the American glutton come out and chug straight from the kettle... people just don't indulge like we do back home over here- whether it's culture, money, or smaller stomachs, I can't be sure. But I do appreciate the difference, and have found I like the outcome.