The Chronicles of Janie

I have never cooked so much in my entire life as I have since coming here to Mozambique. I fix lunch most days, and there a quite a few occasions when Carla's busy and I end up doing supper, too. I almost never use a recipe, and most of my cookery begins with a rummage through the fridge to see what needs to be used up. My staples are cabbage, sausage, beans, tomatoes, onions, rice and xima. A person can do a surprising lot with those things. I have become a pray and sniff cook. I look at the available ingredients, pray for inspiration (and the electricity to stay on if I'm baking), and then start throwing things together. I go through and sniff spices until I find what seems to be a good combination, and then throw that in. It usually works out decently well, though there was one dark period when basically the only things we had in the house were cabbage and carrots and I invented the 'coriander cabbage stir fry'. I thought it was tasty enough, but I'm not sur...

Missed Part I? You can read it HERE. I'm sure you've all heard it: I can't do that! -No way I'm going to that party! -No way I'm hanging out with that crowd! -No way I'm going to try that! -No way! It's too stressful. I really need my alone time. -Just need to recharge, you know? 'Cause I'm an introvert.  We've taken that test, and now we have a bunch of letters labeling our identities, describing who we are, what we do, the way we're supposed to work. It's trendy, and really pretty cool. And those letters? They can be useful. Finding out what I was and why really helped me to better understand myself and my motivations. I formed a much clearer picture of my needs, and a much better basis from which I could understand the world and my interactions with it. I also allowed that big letter 'I' to let me off the hook. A lot. Anything I didn't want to do? Well, now I had the perfect exc...

So, I want to start a new series. This time, on the subject of community. I've had quite a few post ideas knocking around in my head for the past few weeks, and this morning I had the sudden revelation that most of them pertained, in some way, to the theme of 'brothers living together in harmony' (or not). Here's installment #1.  My life promises to get busy again this next week, so I have no idea when the other posts will be forthcoming.  Your input is, as always, appreciated. I have now spent quite a few days living, all by myself, in a foreign country. And I have not been lonely. The closest I've been to loneliness is when I've entertained the occasional thought of, 'oh! People! It might be pleasant to see some people...sometime.' And I've actually looked forward to going to church. Please don't misunderstand me: I love church. But there have been many days when the realization that there will be people there and that I will be ex...

Sixth Station - James Middleton What do you do when you've killed a man? When, in your depravity, you have beaten him to the point of death, humiliated him, then nailed him to a cross-section of wood to gasp out his remaining breaths? When all your consuming evil descends upon his innocence; crushing and defiling? Nature knows the proper response to this outrageous act: darkness and rock-splitting convulsions. But the human heart is harder than any stone. And so you mock his shame ('come down! Come down!' You chant, sniggering at the cruelty of the jest). You strip away the last of his dignity ('let's gamble for his clothes! It's not as though he'll be needing them'). He hates you, of course, but of what consequence is the hatred of a dying man? However, you happen to glance up at his shredded countenance and you see that his eyes are filled, not with hate, but with the inexplicable. Forgiveness? Could it really be? But yes! He...