The angst of food
The hardest part of my day is getting out of bed-I do not say that in some sort of depression commercial run at 2 PM during a Monday afternoon. In the night I see so many of the people I do not get to see during my daily life here...I see family, college friends, high school friends, and those who I would not be able to see in the States or anywhere else minus the afterlife. My dreams here have more vivid than at any time than I can recall-perhaps it is my minds way to compensate for the physical presence or a small gift from above. Whatever that may be.... when that time ends it takes a bit more effort to separate me from manger style bed.
Every morning I then proceed down stairs with what I would say is something similar to what one would use in a college dorm situation.....a ridiculous plastic carrier...one section has my soap, the other my toothbrush and paste, the other a wash cloth, and a fourth spot for any wildcard item I choose....perhaps face wash......mouthwash.....lotion....the world is my oyster when it comes to pocket four in regards to my morning tupper. So begins the process of my day and the all-important scouting of what is brewing for breakfast-which in turn greatly effects my actions going forward. There is no milk and cereal here, no bagels and butter or cream cheese. Breakfast can be quite good-sometimes fried plantains and a bit of chicken with bread, some other type of meat with onions and peppers and bread....those mornings I can recognize the smells immediately and brush my teeth with leisure....I wonder outside into the yard and linger in the sun while brushing. I wash my face and whatever hair I have with my soap and wash cloth and casually saunter back to my room to take my daily vitamin, apply the proper deodorant (on a side note and I may have made mention of this previous but my father does not use deodorant....I am speaking of my real blood father not my host family father......he claims he has not used it in _______ years and when you question him...he will raise his arm and challenge you to stick your nose in and smell-I have never sensed any body odor coming from my father and accepted his claim long ago when I lived with him and asked to borrow some to no avail), and get dressed for the day. The other scenario plays out a bit differently-the days when I hit the bottom of the steps and am immediately hit with the odor of something gone awry…..it is a day of pescado surprise breakfast…..it is some sort of chum like mish mash of fish…with skin and bones, sometimes mixed with egg and other times on its own. It is the days previous catch turned into a fish meal type event for my breakfast. In all my days and years in the states not once has tuna fish ever cruised through my lips…the texture, the smell, it can cause me a gag reflex with its presence alone…..this is that times five. On those days I brush my teeth with exceptional haste and barely put water on my face…..run literally back to my quarters…do the above mentioned at mock speeds and regress to the table as quickly as humanly possible for it is now a game of wit, cunning and, deception. Within my pocket is a small plastic bag….if I can get to the table first and get 30 seconds alone I shovel it all into the bag in my pocket and feed it to the stray dogs on my way to my days first destination. If the table is set for others……I proceed to take a scoop from my plate and quickly dump into on to somebody elses….it is a game of manners roulette as there are people all around working - coming and going….all it would take is for someone to spy my scooping my food on to somebody’s plate to cause quite an insult or a case of the creeps. I am relatively convinced the 73 year old grandmother saw me one day but her vision is weak and I believe her cataract caused her from convincing herself of it fully-other days when I can get a five second window I will jam the food into the pockets of the back of my mouth and run into the restroom and gag it out into the bowl and flush the evidence clear……
This process takes place at lunch as well but on very few occasions….there are days I get the fish head…or cerviche with the fins and I am feverishly redistributing but it is far less common. The whole time this is transpiring at the breakfast table I am both in an utter panic and in an utter sense of delight as it is a challenge and reminds me of my days of youth. When I was a child I was the Malcolm X of anti-food consumption…by any means necessary-I avoided the take down. I would simply resist and wait my parents out…they would section a portion off I had to eat before leaving the table…and gradually shrink it as I rotted in the chair….I would put mash potatoes under the rim of my plate and stick my vegetables within, I would stuff food into my cheeks and then go to the bathroom and flush it…..to the point my mouth was checked at any point I requested to leave the table to go to the bathroom…I would feed any animal present under the table….and many times I would just chipmunk the food. I can vividly recall having food in the back of my cheeks for hours…we would go to my aunt and uncles or grandparents and I would just trek along with it present. My mom knew it……I suppose what do you do with that….so here I am 30 years later….the chipmunk has returned and my skills sharpened as a youth are lending a hand-who would of thought bad eating habits as a youth would result in a survival skill in the future.
Every morning I then proceed down stairs with what I would say is something similar to what one would use in a college dorm situation.....a ridiculous plastic carrier...one section has my soap, the other my toothbrush and paste, the other a wash cloth, and a fourth spot for any wildcard item I choose....perhaps face wash......mouthwash.....lotion....the world is my oyster when it comes to pocket four in regards to my morning tupper. So begins the process of my day and the all-important scouting of what is brewing for breakfast-which in turn greatly effects my actions going forward. There is no milk and cereal here, no bagels and butter or cream cheese. Breakfast can be quite good-sometimes fried plantains and a bit of chicken with bread, some other type of meat with onions and peppers and bread....those mornings I can recognize the smells immediately and brush my teeth with leisure....I wonder outside into the yard and linger in the sun while brushing. I wash my face and whatever hair I have with my soap and wash cloth and casually saunter back to my room to take my daily vitamin, apply the proper deodorant (on a side note and I may have made mention of this previous but my father does not use deodorant....I am speaking of my real blood father not my host family father......he claims he has not used it in _______ years and when you question him...he will raise his arm and challenge you to stick your nose in and smell-I have never sensed any body odor coming from my father and accepted his claim long ago when I lived with him and asked to borrow some to no avail), and get dressed for the day. The other scenario plays out a bit differently-the days when I hit the bottom of the steps and am immediately hit with the odor of something gone awry…..it is a day of pescado surprise breakfast…..it is some sort of chum like mish mash of fish…with skin and bones, sometimes mixed with egg and other times on its own. It is the days previous catch turned into a fish meal type event for my breakfast. In all my days and years in the states not once has tuna fish ever cruised through my lips…the texture, the smell, it can cause me a gag reflex with its presence alone…..this is that times five. On those days I brush my teeth with exceptional haste and barely put water on my face…..run literally back to my quarters…do the above mentioned at mock speeds and regress to the table as quickly as humanly possible for it is now a game of wit, cunning and, deception. Within my pocket is a small plastic bag….if I can get to the table first and get 30 seconds alone I shovel it all into the bag in my pocket and feed it to the stray dogs on my way to my days first destination. If the table is set for others……I proceed to take a scoop from my plate and quickly dump into on to somebody elses….it is a game of manners roulette as there are people all around working - coming and going….all it would take is for someone to spy my scooping my food on to somebody’s plate to cause quite an insult or a case of the creeps. I am relatively convinced the 73 year old grandmother saw me one day but her vision is weak and I believe her cataract caused her from convincing herself of it fully-other days when I can get a five second window I will jam the food into the pockets of the back of my mouth and run into the restroom and gag it out into the bowl and flush the evidence clear……
This process takes place at lunch as well but on very few occasions….there are days I get the fish head…or cerviche with the fins and I am feverishly redistributing but it is far less common. The whole time this is transpiring at the breakfast table I am both in an utter panic and in an utter sense of delight as it is a challenge and reminds me of my days of youth. When I was a child I was the Malcolm X of anti-food consumption…by any means necessary-I avoided the take down. I would simply resist and wait my parents out…they would section a portion off I had to eat before leaving the table…and gradually shrink it as I rotted in the chair….I would put mash potatoes under the rim of my plate and stick my vegetables within, I would stuff food into my cheeks and then go to the bathroom and flush it…..to the point my mouth was checked at any point I requested to leave the table to go to the bathroom…I would feed any animal present under the table….and many times I would just chipmunk the food. I can vividly recall having food in the back of my cheeks for hours…we would go to my aunt and uncles or grandparents and I would just trek along with it present. My mom knew it……I suppose what do you do with that….so here I am 30 years later….the chipmunk has returned and my skills sharpened as a youth are lending a hand-who would of thought bad eating habits as a youth would result in a survival skill in the future.
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