Cade, tour leader on our Trans Africa Expedition sends us his observations on Bennys Chopper, shopping in the markets of Senegal and West African countries how chop your senses!
It was just another day to return to Morocco where the simple purchase of a single meat grinder for the truck changed one man forever. Before that day, our driver Benny, had claimed to specialize strictly "driving and fixing things" and nothing more He preferred his fingers firmly grasp a key to a stirring spoon;. Wanted to keep a radius of five meters outside the kitchen and said he was unable to wash their own dishes as he acted strictly under doctor's orders to keep his hands clear of soapy water Since that fateful day in Morocco. it seemed as Benny began whistling a different tune.
Benny for a time could not be more proud both his new toy and imagination who had combined to expand our culinary horizons. But again another turning point occurred one day in Senegal when I thought I would put a smile on the face of Benny again by placing Chopper wisely. So I headed in Dakar with good intentions and a lasagna on my mind. It was that day only revelation burst the bubble Benny in such a state that all the mince in the world would not be able to put a smile on her sad little face.
"Three kilos?" Asked the butcher.
"Sea-view-play" I politely replied.
Despite what I said he was my honest and the best French attempt 'please', it did not stop the fact that the result was perhaps the greater abomination in the history of the French language. In fact, I go so far as to say that even if I had not cursed, he was so insulting that "excuse my French had never been considered if appropriate.
The butcher smiled, turned and carried the cow carcass off the hook behind him. He dropped on the table as it was a wet cloth bag, landing with a thud. The coating of flies that had seasoned it up and hovered momentarily like a dark cloud rain, before re-settling gently down on the carcass. The butcher took his machete, raised behind his head and began hacking furiously. Small fountains bones, meat and cartilage gushed whenever machete connected to the carcass. As he carved with one hand, he used the other to throw pieces of meat on the scales as nonchalantly as if he were dealing a deck of cards.
"Three kilos!" Said the butcher wrap my meat in a newspaper and put it on the table.
"Mercy Buckets" I said in another French abomination, saying goodbye. I slipped the meat under my arm and went to the market and on my next port of call, the bakery.
Upon entering the bakery, I was immediately struck by a wall cool, clean air. My feet scuffed the immaculate tiled with fresh dirt they had picked up from the marketplace. My ears were alerted to a grinding espresso machine imported and massaged by the gentle sound of elevator music. Behind hygiene windows were a variety of fresh pastries, breads and croissants; and behind cabinets was the baker clean, white uniform with hat awkward-looking baker. It was then that it hit me complete contrast in experiences between buying a piece of meat and a loaf of bread. It was also then that the revelation hit me like an uppercut shot all the way to South Africa: Benny was not the only one with a chopper. Not only that, but was not the only one to have an imagination to use it!
The Union of West Africa United Nations have for some time not only had a little cheeky Chopper their own, but a hell of an imagination to match . First, West African countries are your standards, hygiene, comfort, good sense and sanity. They feed then all ingredients by their mincer to produce contradiction processing patties, confusion and headache and cook what they call "Triple C Burgers. These Triple C are sold on the mass and are usually served with cold beer and hot chips.
brown Saharan landscape of Mauritania , on the Senegalese coast and to the green hills of the jungle of Guinea, it is the people who bring their explosion of colors and culture is the people that breed this extraordinarily beautiful madness. The butcher baker vs contradiction is just the tip of the iceberg, and if you care to take the time to listen I will take care to make some kind of an attempt to explain the lengths to which African countries West can go with their slicing capacity. Take for example, the simple purchase of an ice pack process:
First, take a taxi into town, you have out of the camping area and walking on the road. The roads themselves vary state of dirt tracks to tar-seal potholed that melt like butter in the hot African sun. They are shared between a donkey carts network bombed old cars that resemble garden tool sheds on wheels and new Mercedes. Hangars tools are too cluttered with so many goats, chickens and people you'd be wrong to think that they compete in a kind of Chinese-show play. They spray and roar like epileptic chainsaws running down the road while behind them, the elegant Mercedes and silent glide with the elegance of a figure-skater. Chickens, goats and hawkers weave through traffic at intersections; Arms full of fly-swatters, belts and in cheap plastic toys from the provider.
To catch a taxi, simply hail a tool shed and negotiate a price too crowded with the driver. Once an agreement is reached, you are free to board the vehicle through a number of options. You can sit in the back seat on the lap of an old lady, ride in the trunk with the chickens or even sitting on the roof with the luggage and goats, but beware when you choose to sit on the seat before. Despite a total contempt for all other security issues, if you are sitting in the front seat driver will insist on wearing your seatbelt.
So you are shopping ice, leave the shop and walk back on the street. It is here where you are looking for a pair of flip flops both the right style and the right size. Once the right pair is found, simply stop and interrupt the person wearing them, inform them of your interest in buying their shoes and make them an offer they will certainly refuse. If like mine, your French is lacking and your digital vocabulary does not exceed ten fingers, use one of these fingers to write all amounts in the dirt provided by the trail. After a short negotiation period, a price will be agreed. O nce an agreement is reached, an exchange is made and you can finally return to the camp with your ice bag, new pair of flip flops and a heck of a headache.
So what has resulted in a whirl-wind romance, Benny the relationship with the chopper slowly disappeared under the shadow of a much larger opponent, the daily reminders serve to continually rub salt in the wounds of Benny. Benny resumed his faithful old post behind the wheel of our truck and well outside the range now ten meters it keeps the kitchen. I guess now Benny might be able to find some comfort in the words of wisdom given to none other than himself who had also stumbled in the past. And now he could at the end of it all, understand the extent of the truth that his words when he kept telling them, "Well, if you want to run with the big dogs, you have to be ready to piss in the tall grass! "
Read Cade Episode II of the Trans Africa Expedition
0 Komentar