C is for ... Cooking, Colonial African Style
August 9, 2007 at 10:50 AM
by Ashleigh
Me and my brother in a mealie-field. How much more African can you get?I grew up in a farmhouse in the centre of four acres of land which was the garden, beyond which were the fields. We called them the 'lands'.
The hills always look blue in Zimbabwe, a deepish mauve-y blue. The light hits them a certain way in the late afternoon and they turn golden.
But I digress.
Our house was a normal sized house, probably a bit small for a farmhouse in Zimbabwe. We had three bedrooms, bathroom and toilet, living room, dining room, kitchen and then the front and back verandahs, which were everything happened. The front verandah was where we sat most of the time when we were in the house. I remember the cool ox-blood polished concrete floors.
The verandahs with their gauze windows and swing doors had a through breeze, desperately necessary in October, suicide month.
The back verandah was where the servants did their work. We had two servants in the house, and two in the garden. Inside the house we had Ephraim and Kuma. Ephraim was the cook and Kuma was the nanny. He did all the cooking and some of the heavy cleaning and Kuma did the washing and ironing and dusting and took care of us kids when necessary.
Before Kuma came, we had Juliet who was my nanny. Juju, as I called her, was very dear to me. I can't remember why she left. I'll have to ask my mom.
Outside in the garden we had Fanwell and Cigarette, whose name was a constant source of amusement to us, especially as he had a bit of a weed habit. Remember, these names were Westernised so all the staff also had their traditional African names. Some, like Ephraim, would have grown up on a mission and thus, probably didn't have a traditional African name, but took a Biblical one.
Anyway, back to the cooking!
Ephraim cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner except on Sundays. They all had one day off a week, although the house staff usually got Saturday afternoon off too, much to the dismay of the farm staff who worked six days a week.
Ephraim came into work at 5.30, stayed til about 9, went home, came back at 11, cooked lunch, went home after that until about 4 and then came back, cooked dinner, put it in the warming drawer and went home again.
We weren't the 'real' colonial types who had the cook serve dinner when summoned with a little silver bell, although we had family friends who did.
Kuma worked through the day doing washing in the morning and ironing in the afternoon. The back verandah held the ironing board and the sink, freezers and some tables for laying everything out.
So, what did Ephraim cook?
Pretty much whatever Mom told him to, except for cakes, desserts and puddings. Mom made those. My Mom would have shown him once how to make something. He could only read a little bit so he didn't use recipes, but instead remembered everything in his head. After that, if there was something wrong she would give a bit of instruction. She'd also help if it was something fussy, like her pheasant casserole.
He would come to the bedroom door at 6 am with a tray of tea, if my dad hadn't made it before heading off to the lands.
Then he'd knock at the door and ask Mom what she wanted him to make that day. She'd usually give him instructions for breakfast and lunch and tell him what to defrost from the freezer for supper.
Breakfast was usually quite hearty, a good farmer's breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast, porridge, sometimes cereal. Served at 8 am. Always in the dining room.
Tea followed at 10 on a tray with a doily and a crocheted, beaded, milk jug cover.
Lunch at 12. A light lunch. Spaghetti bolognaise. French toast. Mince on toast.
Tea again at 3 on the verandah. My dad coming in like a whirlwind through the backdoor and saying 'Ephraim! Faga tea!' which is pidgin for 'Ephraim, make some tea please'.
Drinks at 6. Coke and popcorn for the kids. We were allowed one Coke a day. The grownups had cocktails. This was usually in the lounge if it was cool, on the verandah if it was warm or if we had guests. We'd watch tv.
Supper at 7 - 8, depending on how hungry we were. We used to have supper in the dining room. Then after a while it became a habit to have supper on a tray in front of the tv. Richard (my brother) and I would sit at the coffee table, while Mom and Dad had theirs on their laps. If we had guests we ate at the dining table.
When I was a teenager I found the rigidity of it all quite stifling. I remember asking my mom how she dealt with the neverending routine. The deciding what to have for meals, the organising, the waiting. She laughed at me and said 'just wait'.
Now I have the same routine.
Without the family tea breaks and obviously, the size of the meals is greatly reduced.
I still have tea at 10 and 3. I still have lunch at 12.
We have dinner at 6 and I've foregone the cocktail hour, for obvious reasons.
Some days I find my own routine stifling, but the difference is that I have to actively make things happen, like the meals, like the washing and ironing.
I'm not waiting, wilting in the heat, for someone else to do it.
Just because it's the 'done' thing.
Comments
What a wonderful post - reminded me of Alexandra Fuller's Don't Let's go to the Dogs Tonight :) I always used to be fascinated by the Westernised names that many African parents gave their children. I had a Bright in my class one year (who, sadly, was anything but) and my mom lectured a NoNylon. The dining room manager for many years at the Beacon Island was a charming Transkei gentleman called System. Fabulous!
Me too, don't stop this is awesome!
You are such and interesting person :) I'm loving the photo memories too!
I am really enjoying reading about your childhood in Zimbabwe and at the same time marvelling at how different our experiences have been.
There were no maids or gardeners in our home, mom and dad and the kids did everything, with the help of the extended family as needed. My uncles and aunts had maids and such but for some reason we never did.
Also, the fixed mealtimes somehow never took hold at home, probably as a result of my father having a highly flexible schedule at work. Breakfast was a non event and lunch and dinner happened when they happened, and were very casual affairs, except for a Sunday when the lunch would be a very British roast, at least until my mom decided that it was stupid to stand in front of a hot stove on a summers day reaching 30 C outside, and we switched to cold meats or sandwiches instead.
Christmas went the same route of simplification due to the heat - cold meats and salads with a trifle for dessert...
As to the interesting Western names some Africans gave their children, the best one I ever came across was when I used to work at the Koeberg Nuclear Power Plant in Cape Town - each building had a various wardens who dealt with all aspects of emergency protocol. Our Fire Warden was a guy named Lucifer. I though that was appropriate on so many levels...
I'm loving reading about your childhood. Please keep sharing.
August 9, 2007 1:33 PM