Behind the Internship: Hummus and Humanity

Last night was my night to cook dinner for the whole crew. I embarked on this task with great trepidation.  My meal was to follow some culinary masterpieces, including pad thai, delicious chili, and a killer rice dish. With a MK 2500 (the equivalent of 16 US dollars) limit and the prerequisite that group dinners must be vegetarian, cooking for 10 involves some serious creativity and a bargain shopper mentality. After almost an entire week of thought, I decided on my meal: a big bowl of hummus, a big bowl of guacamole, fresh veggies, and a rice dish to accompany it. When in doubt, rely on appetizers.

I should preface by saying that last week, I decided to bake mac and cheese. However, 30 minutes into preparation, the power went out (a weekly occurrence in Lilongwe). I left the noodles on the stove I had started to cook them on. During the power outage, we had retreated to the living room, attempting to get through the evening’s evaluation/curriculum agenda before dinner. when the power came back on 2 hours later, the result was: soggy noodles. Upon returning to the kitchen I found that my block of cheese, left on the counter during the 2-hour lack of lighting, had been graced with a visit from a small animal, type- undetermined. Possibilities: mouse, rat, raccoon, ghost of interns past? Therefore, my baked mac and cheese dish was lacking the cheesy deliciousness that lets be honest, is sort of a staple aspect of the meal. Thus, I was determined to redeem myself this week.

The kitchen is usually a high-traffic area come dinner time, filled with people willing to help cook, give advice, or simply play DJ on iTunes and keep you company. However, we had just finished a long week at Mnkhupa Primary School, which was both rewarding and draining, and most people were posted up on the couch, leaving the kitchen unusually empty. Though the “baked mac and cheese fiasco” left me slightly concerned about the lack of helpers, the “rejuvenated hummus/guac/rice” me was actually excited by the idea of some peaceful reflection time. Besides, my creation was sure to be the next culinary masterpiece created by a World Camp intern.

Step one: guacamole. As I began to cut onions to be added to the dip, I began to cry. I’d like to go on record and say that the small onions, bought in the market in town are hands down the strongest onions on the planet. Crying is inevitable. Nonetheless, I stood there, alone in the kitchen, practically weeping over my cutting board of half-mangled onions. I realized it was the first time since arriving in Malawi that I had found myself in tears... and it felt good. Although I first attempted to quell the tears streaming down my face, I soon stopped, allowing myself to cry. What a refreshing feeling. It had been a whirlwind two-week period since my arrival. I had spent orientation learning many unnerving and incredibly discouraging statistics about HIV/AIDS rates, deforestation problems, and overall poverty in Malawi. I had spent the following days experiencing these statistics first hand. However, as the multitude of onions turned into guacamole, and my tears naturally dried up, I found my thoughts steering away from the immense poverty and HIV rate statistics, instead focusing on the connections I made in my classrooms the past two weeks. When I focus on the individual connections, as opposed to the potentially overwhelming numbers, the problems facing Malawi seem slightly more manageable. With these final thoughts, the guacamole was complete.

Next step: the hummus. A first-time hummus maker, this part of dinner prep was intimidating. However, after glancing at a couple similar recipes, I realized that hummus was hard to mess up. I began throwing in ingredients, a little bit of lemon juice here, a dash of cumin there. Hummus wasn’t quite as hard as I thought it would be. That is, until it came time to mix it all together. This part of the recipe would appear to be a relatively simple task for those who have access to a blender or food processor. However, this task is made exponentially more difficult by those of us mashing garbanzo beans by hand. I began to mash in an organized fashion. Carefully, methodically, mashing each bean to the same degree.  As if my iTunes could read my mind, the songs accompanied my mood as I cooked.  Bob Marley had come on once or twice during the whole onion ordeal. But as I mashed garbanzo beans, “Like a Rolling Stone” by Bob Dylan began to play. Next thing I knew, I was no longer worried about the evenly mashed-ness of each bean and found myself really going to town on that bowl of hummus ingredients. I was getting some serious pleasure out of the aggression necessary to thoroughly mash garbanzo beans into submission. 

WC Intern Stewart Jones with Standard 7 class at
Mnkhupa Full Primary School. 

I find myself thinking about the frustrations that had also been apart of the past two weeks. Of course, there are those “magical” moments when interacting with a child or speaking with a teacher at the local primary school. These moments are wonderful and make the experience worthwhile. But there are the obvious frustrations as well. The feeling that there isn’t even more that I/World Camp/the other interns can do, the small annoyances that we begin to discover when you live AND work with 9 other people, the itchy mosquito bites that run up and down both legs. Suddenly, all of these were being mashed into that hummus, right along with the beans. It was completely invigorating. Small flecks of hummus splatter painted my hair, the wall in front of me, and the counter. 

I stopped, put down my mashing device, and smiled. Here I was, in the middle of Lilongwe, Malawi, mashing up garbanzo beans by hand, attempting to one-up last night’s pad thai dinner, and simultaneously releasing my pent up emotions of the roller-coaster that had been the past two weeks. I took a step back, took in the large mess I had made of the kitchen, sipped my bottled coca-cola, and smiled some more. I felt good. REALLY good. I am far from home (a liLONGWAY, as my parents would say) and yet these hummus splattered walls served as a small form of encouragement. I am where I am supposed to be. It’s hard, yes, but more rewarding  than words could ever explain.

As we sat down to eat dinner that night, I glanced from person to person, wondering if anyone could taste the revelations and passionate emotion that had been created along with their meal that evening. Week 3 in Malawi? Bring it on. 

Submitted by: Stewart Jones, Malawi SS1 2011 Intern