Monday Lunch

lundi, le 02 juin 2012

Oh, the things I plan to do and never get round to. The things I want to do and never even start. The things I sign up to do and never finish!!

And it spirals down and down and deeper down…

My Mother once told me that all I was made of was good intentions. My Mother isn’t inclined to succumb to malice. Nor to sarcasm.

I’m reasonably certain that her words were simply intended as a kindhearted observation. But ever fiber of my being has rebelled against those words for years. Only because many a true word is spoken in jest. True the words were then and true they ring loudly in my ears to this day.

Now have signed up to do weekly challenges. I roll my eyes, sigh and wonder why.

The challenge for this week is to take a picture every day of the week. Today I was challenged to take a picture of My Lunch. It’s day one, I’m off to a good start.

When the challenge thumped into my inbox, I strangely enough didn’t just file the mail without even opening it. Smug in the knowledge that I have signed up for yet another journey, making a mental note to revisit the mail when I have some time on my hands.

I actually for once read the mail and it somehow struck a chord with me that the objective of the challenge was to make me aware of the lifestyle choices that I am making. When Wonder Woman arrived this morning, I jumped into action and told her we would be having ‘pap en wors’ for lunch.

Pap’ is similar to Italian polenta or American grits, except that a relatively course white flour made from maize is used as opposed to the yellow maize variety used for polenta or grits. It is a staple food, particularly in poorer communities, of most of Southern Africa and many parts of sub-Saharan Africa. ‘Pap’ ostensibly has some nutritional value, however I doubt that it has any value other than keeping any hunger pains at bay and, being a starch, racing straight to those parts of the body that are already carrying a bit more weight than absolutely necessary.

Wors’ is the commonly used abbreviation of the word ‘boerewors’, which literally translates as ‘farmer’s sausage’. It is generally made from coarsely minced or ground beef and spices, and contains, as is found in many other forms of sausage, a high proportion of fat.

But my requested ‘pap en wors’ lunch was not intended to be a healthy, slimming lunch. Today was not aimed at restoring my body. Growing up, ‘pap en wors’ was my favourite breakfast. My Mother made the best ‘pap en wors’ gravy, in fact, she simply made the best ‘pap en wors’.

Pap en wors’ reminds me of sitting on My Mother’s lap. Her somewhat frayed, fluffy olive green gown with the fabric covered buttons wrapped around both of us, pressing me tightly against her warm and ample bosom. It transports me to a time when I intrinsically knew how loved I was, how special I was and how treasured I was. It takes me back to a little girl who believed in miracles, who was fascinated with life and who didn’t have a care in the world. A girl who implicitly knew that the world was her oyster and that everything was possible.

I knew that, felt that, lived that. Then. I can know that, feel that and live that. Now. ‘Pap en wors’ is my reminder. ‘Pap en wors’ was essential food for my soul today.

The music: A reminder that the days that were, could always be had again.

The photograph: My lunch and challenge for today.

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