sick child hood food

Recently browsing through piles of newspapers recently landed on an article about a certain food that was doing the rounds in a certain restaurant and the writer was even screaming these glowing statements about how it can be a good reliever during these hard economic times because generally beans and potatoes are relatively cheap in the market compared to other foods.

This article got me rewinding time to those many years ago when I was a little toddler growing up in low income neighborhood  Growing up are stupid and what you eat back in them day’s makes you sick literally though for you don’t understand what this cruel world is feeding you. I mean the cool food you want to be running the 9.6sec race down your lips is chicken meat dripped in the most exotic spices straight out your favorite cook book. Stuff that you saw or dreamt seeing in that high end restaurant food menu which you can’t wait to retell a million times to your friends at the back of the classroom during that boring math lesson with the teacher pushing you to find x yet it’s their inscribed on the black board all that time.

Like all the kids in my back yard this was the broad way script we lived by where we ate posho and beans in house but once in our little mouths it turned into spiced chicken once we were nut at the play ground. This happened to nearly every meal but there was one food my parents liked. Its local name was ‘mugoyo’ and we referred to it as the food for the poor folk in Uganda living miles below the poverty line. Partly I guess because money had become scarce in the household which didn’t ease on matters as in my little head I deemed it eating poor man food. It was a mashed mixture of potatoes and beans that formed a thick pulp to finish which was not a lot any way just a spoonful you had to escort each mouthful with cupful of water. The potatoes here were not those exotic foods used to make obesity ingredients like chips but typical African potatoes typical with our rural setting.

To sum the equation during that period we were blessed or is it cursed with a house help with gifted hands and such cookery skills that of all the bad foods she would cook or mastered somehow she had mastered the trick to bring to taste this bad mixture of potatoes and beans that if it was my favorite food I would bite a finger for that but I refuse categorically.

My arguments against this treatment went crushing to the flour for I claimed it was unfair to boil potatoes and beans then mix the mixture creating the mother of all throat drying pulps but mama with all the literally prose she had mastered kept throwing around this talk about how my growing body needed carbohydrates that lay embedded in the potatoes and the beans provided excellent body building blocks since the animal protein in eggs always went to waste after digestion.

This pulp was so thick that once served on your plate the mound left no dirty to clean or wipe off. The fork used to rake damage to it only broke off small crumbs that when place in your mouth drained it all of its saliva like you just wiped a woolen carpet in your mouth. The food came with no sauce neither did it come with soup thus all liquid you would get was ice cold water that you poured in the mouth gallon after the gallon. The maids face encouraging us to eat the mess of food her little brain had magically created was never helping matters either as it looked like a little devil screaming

‘Go ahead eat to your the death little guy, can’t wait you to enroll you in my kindergarten baby face’

Even visits to the neighbour’s home proved futile as it seemed the whole neighborhood looked plagued by this plague of mashed potatoes and beans. Lucky we relieved from this hell when dad picked up a new well paying job after several months of tiling with this bad mix in our throats those many years ago.


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