Today is the culmination of almost a month of assumption, mischief and mayhem. To reach this point, I have negotiated the alien and fearsome world of pressure cookers, meandered along aisles of fruit, vegetables and spices, before grasping victory with the acquisition of four kilos of mutton/goat. It has been a trek, but triumph is in sniffing range.
Remember the extraordinary manner in which my mouth volunteers my body, my home and my family as soon as anyone around twitches in a slightly needy fashion? Well, it struck again a month ago. The joke, as usual, is on me; the “nurse”, for whom I felt such sympathy, proved to be a consultant gynaecologist and obstetrician who was not, I later discovered, overwhelmed by the vagaries of shift patterns combined with house cleaning and daily family life. The result (after all, the latest eccentricity is irrelevant without the result) is that up to 100 people are due to descend, at lunch time, for a cultural event.
I admit that I was flattered to be invited to attend, but fairly bemused from the onset of planning at various meetings. Grossly ignorant of every dish mentioned and failing – dismally – at retaining a “poker face”, I was challenged to produce something culturally significant as my contribution. (I should have muttered that offering my property as a venue was fairly culturally significant, but my mouth was failing to co-operate at the time!) So, I offered to prepare curried goat. After all, how hard could it be to find goat/mutton and all the necessary spices, fruit and vegetables in an area where knowing the location of popping corn has proved challenging? (My cousin-sister insisted that I simultaneously mastered the art of pressure cooking, as her recipe for curried goat required it. Hence, the hurried purchase of a pressure cooker. The ensuing feverish practice is a picture I am sure you can clearly envisage!)
The only saving grace – which I will hug happily to myself all day – is the knowledge that I am not the only person travelling on winds of assumption. With great glee, I discovered that I was assumed to be Kenyan (why, I have absolutely no idea), which is why I am hosting a significant annual African Celebration. My connection with Africa being no closer than an ability to locate the continent on a map, I shall be chuckling smugly in the background whilst attempting to identify moin moin and the like.
Lesson learned; go with the flow, but keep one’s mouth closed until ALL the facts have been assembled!
