Githeru

 Last Friday I had been asked by Calhoun's teacher to make the food for Monday.  It seems parents (and by that I probably mean mothers) take turns making the daily food.  I couldn't seem to get very clear directions for what I was supposed to do with the bag of food I was handed and she was awfully busy with 24 kids.  There was a big bag of dry black beans, a big bag of what I would call feed corn, some odd grayish powder and a big bag of rice. I was clear on the rice and beans but was a little unsure about the corn and the powder.  Over the weekend I meant to ask a native Nicaraguan but didn't.  And I realized that I had cooked feed corn (my term) before in Githeru (a Kenyan dish).  I LOVE Githeru, checked with my Tanzania-born neighbor and cooked it.  It was delicious.  But when I brought it to Calhoun's school, the teacher's response was, "What did you do?" I also, evidently, was supposed to have bought (so-called) juice to mix with the grey powder.  I had not done so.  So I left feeling silly but irritable that somehow the clueless gringo had been chosen to make the food on his 4th day in school.  To add to the day I missed four calls from Calhoun's teacher during the morning (my Nicaraguan cell phone doesn't work well at our place). Calhoun had an accident so I went to the school and found him pantsless, shoeless and in a diaper.  Later, I was explaining to Calhoun that he knows his body and can tell when he needs to go.  He countered with, "There is no bathroom in the classroom and I am not big enough to open the gate."  He is correct on both points.  We've since worked (again) on bathroom words in Spanish.  The teacher told me that none of the kids would eat the food I cooked, that I needed to bring toilet paper, soap and diapers and returned the pots and containers I cooked in empty.  I am sincerely hoping they did not throw out the Githeru, as I would have eaten it.  I walked out into the very hot day carrying a large plastic bin, a big metal pot, a bag of poopy clothes and a 35 lb kid. 

It was a crappy day until we had a picnic at the beach and then there were crashing waves, kids playing, delicious food and all was well.