They prepared our meal in the open-air kitchen. The next day we visited the kitchen while they worked. I was impressed at the skill with which they peeled vegetables with long, sharp knives. (By the way, the survivors grow the vegetables in a garden just off the kitchen.) The huge pot of rice, a Liberian staple, was prepared on a charcoal stove. The fish, served with the head and eyes (traditional in Liberia), came from a nearby river. The laughing balls were made by the Pastry Class students.
A table was set in the palava hut and loaded with heaping bowls of food. It was as delicious as it looked and smelled. I had seconds and was delighted when we were encouraged to take the laughing balls back to our hotel. My only regret was that the fistula survivors did not join us for the meal.
I was touched that they went to such an effort for us and was moved that they shared their limited provisions. Our hostesses are not wealthy.
I’ve no doubt that this month’s team will be welcomed with the same friendliness.