New recipe!

 
Our truck makes a turn from the tarmac road and start rumbling along a dirt trail…the scenery is often thick jungle that encroaches on the roadway, frequently getting caught in our vehicle, but when we pass a clearing…you can see nothing but lush hills and palm trees in the distance.  There are easily 50 shades of green at every turn.  We cross streams on log bridges and pass goats grazing randomly along washed out roads.  Motorbikes and Toyota Land Cruisers are the only vehicles you’ll ever see out here.  And then…with no warning…we pop out of the jungle into an opening with a small gathering of mud huts.  People call out “ipoto” (foreigner) to us as we pass, taking a break from chatting with neighbours or grinding grain to frantically wave.  The children get so excited and chase us down the road – I guess there’s not too much action in these villages.  Just a few seconds later, after successfully dodging chickens and children, we are past civilization and back fully immersed in the jungle.  These settlements are not big enough for the health units we are searching for, so we continue on until we reach a village

with slightly bigger handful of huts.

My portion of this exploration is over pretty quickly; I speak with the health worker, review the supplies and then head out to have a look at the overall health of the village.   You can tell quite a bit by looking at the cleanliness and chubbiness of the kids, the obvious skin infections, the quality and colour of the hair etc.  I was needlessly worried about finding people to meet; the population came to

the clinic to greet us…all of them.  It can be a little overwhelming to be facing a few hundred people and no real way to communicate but we got on pretty well with facial expressions and charades.  The adults would usually wander off after a bit to tend their fires or finish laundry, while the kids remained to stare.  I discovered early that a fun game is to flinch like I’m going to chase them…this sends them running and giggling in droves…until they come back to do it again.  Sometimes I would have them show me their water source (stream) or their food source (crops, goats and the forest for bush meat).  At a few places I found it quite overwhelming; many of them were scared but wanted to touch my skin or hold my hand.  One village had a man that spoke English, I asked why there was such a fuss to see me, Ipotos had been in country before…so why the fascination?  “They have only seen them drive by, never standing in front of them”, was his reply.

In a few places it seemed important that I meet a prominent member of the community.  I met a chief, a few teachers and Michael.  Michael makes shoes, fixes plastic buckets and hunts monkeys.  They brought me over and presented him with great reverence…if I understood the local language I’m sure someone was urging me to courtesy.   Despite my lack of protocol knowledge, Michael and his tribe invited me to stay for dinner, even to help catch it.  He showed me the trees where we could hunt the monkey at dusk…

Recipe
1.      Shoot the monkey in the tree; collect it from the forest floor.
2.      Tie the money to a large stick, place over a roaring fire.  No need to skin the monkey…it’s better to roast whole and let the hair burn off
3.      Cook for about 1-2 hours, depending on the size
4.      Serve with sauce

Despite the tempting offer, I politely declined the offer of a primate feast and we continued on our way.  Just a few kilometers later I saw a monkey…I wonder if he knows he’s on the menu for tonight…