Musings on Food, Therapy, and Childhood
Oct 3rd, 2009 by heidi
You know you’re a TCK when you smell something on the barbecue, think, “huh, what does that remind me of?” and the answer is…grilled lizard. In our little corner of Burkina Faso, there were giant lizards (giant probably means a foot long – they seemed larger when I was four). Giant lizards plus hungry kids who were slingshot experts = snacktime! My dad says that he remembers how revolted he was the first time he saw me squatting with some neighbor kids and waiting for the lizard to be finished.
We did not have lizard, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know. We had steaks and burgers instead. It did totally smell like grilled lizard, though.
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Headed off to my second therapy session today and had a half an hour schmooze beforehand about the delightful world of HAES. She gets very excited about the topic, which makes it a very safe place to spend an hour. I struggle to remember everything that we talk about in our sessions (well, this is true in general for therapy, not just for this therapist) but we’re starting to move into more personalization…in other words, getting more specific about my issues around eating past full, eating when I’m not hungry, and figuring out what’s behind some of those things and will be looking more closely at them in future sessions. I wish I could figure out that stuff right away and make it all better rather than working through it.
Incidentally, I need to remember to post over in Fatshionista about where to get bras in this city. Mine are dying and I’m going to have to suck it up and try to find non-underwire bras that actually fit (and no, Lane Bryant does NOT have the size I need…)
Grilled lizard = LOL!
Actually, grilled giant rat was more popular with the kids in our area of Ouagadougou.
Those giant rats were really rare in our area (in the west), which meant that when they caught one, only men got to eat them! My mom was SO mad that she never got to try it – I think it was her mission to try every weird food under the Burkinabe sun. She still swears that dried, fried caterpillars taste of bacon.
I get weird cravings for that sweet breakfast “soup” made with the teeny, tiny flourballs.
Jasmine rice *is* rice, the bland stuff most people eat is not; and I don’t like basmati. There’s a certain smell I get a whiff of sometimes that reminds me of flying ants. Really good watermelon is yellow.
Interesting – we like our rice moist, sticky, and clumpy, like it’s served in West Africa (so you can scoop up a ball easily with one hand) and I know how to cook it like that perfectly! Peanut stew with cabbage, sweet potato, and beef cubes is a staple in our house (and I only want to eat it with a spoon – I eat comfort food with a large spoon, like we ate our African food in Burkina Faso, when we were being posh and not eating with our hands).