Cheeky Chapatis |
I am
very much happy and humbled by the feedback that I have received. I receive
calls, E-mails, SMSs, messages from my readers who are pretty annoyed that
their daily dose or serial (as they refer to it) has not yet been published or
got delayed. There are many who demand that I write my entire Ethiopian
Experience all at once. My niece, Dr.M. Sandeepthi remarked “Mama who has time to
read it once a day? Why don’t you write it as a novel” She was visibly annoyed.
Some of
my readers have expressed their doubts
as to if the incidents have happened as recited or if they are figments of my imagination.
For example ‘did Sahithi really say all that about seven year difference in age
and also if the Telugu lady was really annoyed at her husband saying Chao, Chao
to her’. This is my response to those specific queries.
Oh Yes, if I were to
think logically, what the readers are feeling is logical and realistic. I am chronicling things as they have happened.
I write with creativity and panache but i am not very imaginative. If I had imagination
like my mother (the quite well known Telugu writer M. Hemalatha), I would have
become a professional writer. But alas it is not to be! I can be a biographer
and a feature writer but not a novelist. Things
really happened the way they are recited.
Days were slipping away and we were getting
into a routine. But it was tough to live out of a suitcase, especially as we had four huge ones along with four equally bulky cabin luggage! It was really
irksome to search and not get what you want!
The one issue that was really getting to us
was the lack of proper Indian food. The Ethiopian food is quite bland with zero
spice and very little salt and chilly. And compounding the problem was the
quality of rice available and the way it was cooked. The rice was broken and
had the same taste and texture of boiled rice .
The cooked rice was soggy and
moreover was accompanied by a tomato curry that had no taste! We were too smart
not to open our very precious pickles that we had so lovingly carried all the
way from India. They had to last for a good two years!
The women in our group took the matters
into their own hands (literally). They raided the Ethiostar's kitchen. Tagging along were
the friendly yet curious hotel staff. The Indian ladies found the kitchen quite passe, and discovered that the cooks were not trained to prepare Indian dishes. The lady brigade was
desperate. They were at their wits-end. But they found that the hotel had wheat
flour.
So a sight unfolded that made everyone
gape. The Indian ladies cooking army was marching on. They plonked themselves in
front of a huge table and made dough. They wanted to roll the chapatis.
Chapatis being rolled with bottles |
There
were no rolling pins available. We had bought rolling pins from India but had misplaced them. In desperation Padma, Vasavi and Tasneem rolled Chapatis
from glass water bottles. The local chefs were fascinated by the entire
process. They could not believe their eyes. That night we had nice proper Indian chapatis .
Very quickly we realized that for the Ethiopian
chefs, who have not rolled chapattis in their life, found rolling chapatis a huge chore and the
results were frustrating. The chapatis would not be of any uniform size or taste
and would be thick and quite bulky. But they were eaten!
Pranav at that age was quite a solemn
boy. He found the entire eating experience to be very painful, but was
philosophical about it. One night he brightened visibly. Seeing
his excitement, I asked him “Pranav, what is the matter, you seem to be happy?”
all the time trying to push the not so edible and burnt Ethiopian chapati into my mouth. It had just occurred to me
that a country that prides itself as a land of sun burnt people is serving us
burnt chapatis!
“Look, Nanna, look!” Pranav exclaimed “This
chapati looks like Ethiopia”. Pranav was quite a geography buff and could
easily identify many countries. The not so experienced Ethiopian
cooks managed to make chapatis, one of which uncannily resembled their own
country! At that time we did not have mobile phones. If we had, we could have captured
the infamous Ethiopian Chapati in its full glory before it was consumed!
This hugely interested my two year old
daughter Sai Sahithi. She would hopefully examine her own chapati and whisper
into Padma’s ears “Amma, what does my chapati look like?” The chapati looking
like something meant so much to Sahithi! Not to disappoint her, Padma would tell her
name of a state or a country!
Any name was okay for Sahithi; she just wanted to be one up on her smart alerky brother, Pranav Pratheek! If Pranav had Ethiopia for lunch she wanted to have United States for her dinner! Oh, those were the days, when innocence reigned!
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