Monday, September 12, 2011

Pringles, Tang and Red Beans and Rice

So today while waiting for an appointment (don't be fooled... adoption isn't glamorous... it is defined by waiting, waiting and more waiting) a friend who was kind enough to spend her day helping and waiting with me broke out a can of sour cream and onion Pringles. She offered us some and said, "You know, I'd never eat these back home. But some how they are really good here!"

I got to thinking about that.

A few days ago we bought a simple bag of pasta... pasta is the same here, in the US and probably in Italy. But we went to make that pasta and found the whole stinking bag was full of tick sized bugs! I was seriously disgusted! Irrr! How could we go wrong with pasta?

So the next day at the store I bought Tang... Tang folks. Never in my life would I buy Tang in Durango, CO. Not only because I would get thrown out of the organic granola town, but because it is Tang. But I saw it at that Ugandan super market and it said to me, "I am familiar. I am consistent. And I won't do you wrong." So I bought that huge jar of tang... which oddly is made in South Africa.

And I have enjoyed 4 glasses of Tang... today.
And I don't even care if my organic granola friends know I am drinking flavored sugar water.

Then I got to thinking how our boy must be feeling the same thing!
Really (so far) food has been our biggest "issue." He has eaten a very simple diet for his first 4 years. Now that changed literally over night!

We tried to feed him pizza... because he like bread, and tomato sauce and meat... yeah... pizza was like torture for him. Seriously. He nibbled at the crust and sat with wide eyes like we were trying to feed him a cow tongue or something. Poor thing. I tried giving him oatmeal... totally grossed him out. He is good with bread/toast... plain... no jam, no butter. He is ok with sandwiches... but leave out the cheese. He really doesn't like cheese. It is just really really strange to him.

So after my Pringle and Tang moment I decided to do my best to give Kizito some "tang" (figurative tang that is). I cooked up my best rendition of Ugandan Red Beans and Rice. I am proud to say that when I sat that steaming bowl in front of his little face he looked at it, his eyes got wide and a big huge grin appeared on his face! It was the best part of our day! Both of ours.

He loved it!
He ate 4 bowls... after which I cut him off.
I am pretty sure his thought process was, "Oh praise God! This mzungu mama of mine has finally learned to cook! I better eat all I can now, just in case she tries to feed me pizza again!"

Then tonight at bed he said, "Nkwagala"... that might sound like a mouth full to you, but to me it means "I love you." Love is in the little things... sometimes even in beans and rice.

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