Gluttony's Afterglow

The moment my taxi pulled into the driveway of Cousin George's lovely Spring Valley compound and I saw these big white catering tents, I KNEW I was gonna wind up hurting myself.

This morning, I am nursing one molto grande case of tight tummy-itis. Psychologically, this is not a bad thing, because it stems from gorging on delicious food, which is one of my favorite pastimes. And last night was off the hook!!! I mean, George and his elegant, beautiful wife Carole put on a Turkey Day spread the likes of which I haven't seen in years!

There were about 10 different veggie dishes, including my absolute favorite of all time, corn pudding. There was turkey, dressing AND gravy, and an apple cranberry chutney with ginger that I would KILL to have the recipe for! By the time dessert rolled around, I was actually in pain. But I made a game effort at eating some of the cheesecake made by this guy named Jacob. He's a recent college graduate from Ohio, the son of Lutheran missionaries, and he's already started several businesses in Kenya.

First of all, this guy doesn't even have a stove of his own. And he had to spend an entire day searching for the ingredients. He couldn't find graham crackers for the crust, so he just pulverized some shortbread cookies and made do.

Then Jacob walked down the road to a neighbor's house and asked if he could use their oven. He literally had to sit in front of the danged thing and watch the cheesecake bake, because the oven has no temperature control and sometimes flares into a raging inferno, and he had to yank it out and wait until things settled down to continue the baking process.

I share this story to give you yet another critical window into the day to day challenges of expat life in Africa. I'm not asking for any pats on the back or awards, or anything. I'm just ceaselessly amazed at how much patience, flexibility, and creativity some folks develop while living abroad.

You'll notice I said "some folks", cuz that don't necessarily include me. Gulu dang near broke my will, and I am jealously guarding the one last good nerve I possess. When it's gone, my name will be legend on the streets of Nairobi, following a lively, expletive-filled performance before a member of the local constabulary drags me away.

Personally, I'd have just picked up a quart of gelato and been done with it, but Jacob really wanted to make a personal contribution to the Turkey Day festivities.

I'm glad he did; the cheesecake was perfect; not too sweet, not cloying, just the right note to follow a bout of intense gorging. After I got home and collapsed beneath the mosquito netting, I couldn't help being incredibly grateful for new friendships, new horizons, and the soothing wonders of Rayon clothing with elastic waistbands.

But I also knew I would spend all of today walking around feeling like 20 pounds of potatoes in a 5 pound bag. My belly is tight as a drum. I can't even THINK about eating anything in the near future. All I want to do is lie on my back somewhere while rubbing my distended stomach, thinking of all the reasons I will never EVER overeat like this again.

Or at least until the next time somebody invites me over for over for an expat feast...

Damn, this feels like I'm back home during the holidays, or something!