The Sukuma Sucker

I've said it before--when I'm extremely happy, I smile with my whole head. It's like I'm in a race to see just how much of my gums I can expose. I used to hate that about myself, but I think I've finally made peace with that aspect of my personality. In fact, this picture helped me get there.

It was taken just before I announced that dinner was served at the aforementioned birthday/goodbye party for me and my friend Juliette. I think I was mostly happy it would soon be over! For example, I had started chopping the eggplant, zucchini, red, green and yellow peppers, tomatoes, onions, garlic and portobello mushrooms for this casserole the day before the party. Simmer it all in a little red wine, add breadcrumbs and parmesan cheese, then sprinkle some cheddar on top, and you got yourself some good eatin'!

That was in addition to the red snapper I marinated for four hours in garlic, thyme and oregano, white wine vinegar and soy sauce and then fried in olive oil. And the tomato, avocado and mango salad. And the Sukuma Wiki. And "Mama Rachella's Spaghetti." Am I forgetting something??? Oh well, it doesn't really matter. What DOES matter, and what I really need to let go of, is that eight--COUNT 'EM--EIGHT guests who said they were coming didn't show up.

And didn't call with their apologies.

And didn't text.

Now, I'm going to try and not let this devolve into a rant (knowing full well that it probably will). And I'm certainly not going to "out" anybody, other than to say that all eight of those guests were Kenyan. If you are a Kenyan reading this blogpost, please don't take offense. Actually--go ahead and take offense if you want to. And then post a comment explaining why this seemingly significant trend keeps occurring. I'm not the only expat sucker who's commented on this during my two years in Kenya. And this has happened to me before, only with just one or two people. Not EIGHT.

It just seems so simple to me. If you aren't going to be able to make it, just say so. Hell, I've had people text me an hour before the party started to say they weren't coming, but at least I knew I could start putting stuff in the freezer by that point. But just this morning, one of those MIA Kenyan guests sheepishly explained that she had gotten an out of town assignment on Thursday and knew she wouldn't be able to make it on Saturday. (She had even offered to help me cook.)

So....what prevented her from sending me an email, or texting (I get the whole "not wanting to back out in person or on the phone" thing) on Thursday to say she wouldn't be coming to the party?????

The good news is I was able to feed the guards at my apartment compound for several days after the soiree. It turned out to be a lot of fun, and both Juliette and I enjoyed ourselves immensely once we recovered. Most folks there were Americans, and my Italian friend Roberta who I met back in Gulu, and a Canadian intern from the paper, and four other Kenyan guests besides Juliette. And though it was an expensive lesson (hell, I even bought a few plastic tables and chairs to put out by the pool area for the "overflow guests"! HAH!!!!), I'm now able to permanently strike a few names off the lists of any future gatherings.

But most importantly, I've think I've learned quite indelibly there are some impermeable barriers that may just be a non-negotiable part of expat life. As I think about it, one of the reasons people didn't show up HAD to have been transportation. Matatus don't travel down the road I live on. It's in the suburbs, and the mostly Muzungu crowd living in that area simply wouldn't stand for those noisy, clattering death sleds creating a daily menace in that leafy enclave. So even if they could have gotten someone to drop them off for my party, maybe they'd have had trouble getting back home later.

Then there's the whole "culture" thing. I mean, the one guy who enthusiastically placed all those specific orders for food may have had second thoughts about my cooking abilities. One thing I've noticed about Kenyans is that many are somewhat hesitant about trying "exotic" foods. So even though I promised to fry fish and make spaghetti and sukuma wiki, maybe he got cold feet at the last minute and didn't want to risk having the Black Muzungu 'poison' him with her lame American cooking.

And speaking of culture, I have it on good authority that for the most part, Kenyans just aren't big on the whole "RSVP" thing. If they show up, good. If they don't, you shouldn't take offense. From my cultural perspective, that's a problem, because I like to plan ahead and make sure there's enough food and drink for everybody. Skulking over to my desk three days later to apologize for not showing up doesn't exactly put my party expenses back into my wallet.

Okay, I'm gonna start winding this rant down now. I'm gonna try and just focus on how happy I felt in this exact moment, when I knew that people were about to dig into my culinary creations and hopefully enjoy them immensely. I cook with a lot of zest and joy, actually. I love experimenting with flavors and textures. I adore a golden brown crust and a herb-y aroma.

I live to nourish.

And I know you can't force those things. Just like you can't force relationships. Lord knows I've learned that in my personal life! You have to let these things occur organically, so you don't wind up feeling like a Sukuma Sucker.