Unless our househelper is here, our yard worker Charles eats American food. Yesterday Susan was here, but Charles wasn't. She still made nshima for herself, but there was plenty of ndiwo (vegetables) left over. What to do with the remaining ndiwo, or relish? Send it home with Susan? But Charles was coming today. Freeze it? A possibility. I have made relish before, but never nshima on my own. I decided to be brave and make it for Charles. About time, you say. After all, it's only been five years since I came to Zambia. Right?
I've watched Zambian women make it numerous times, and each time an aura of mystery has been cast over this art, either by the cook or by my own uncertainty. Well, today was the day--how hard could it be? It's like cooking grits, right? Only cooked longer until there are semi-hard white lumps?
After what I thought was the right consistency I used my special, blue plastic shaping spoon. As I coaxed the nshima out of the pan, I made sure the lumps were attractive. After placing them on the plate, I called Charles to warn him who made the nshima. His response? "Wow!" (as in, "You really did?") I almost felt like Miss Celia in the book The Help when she made a huge dinner for Minnie Jackson. Minnie had taught Celia how to cook delicious meals other than cornpone.
As Charles took his first bite, I held my breath for a second, wondering if it was any good. With a "thumb's up," he let me know everything was okay. Another good sign, his plate is empty. Or, are there white lumps hiding somewhere under a bush?
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