The language of food echoes through the generations in rural Zambia.
I’ve just been on a voyage of discovery. And adventure. And collaboration. I’ve travelled some 1,000 kilometres northeast, another 1,200 kilometres west, and finally, 500 kilometres back home to Livingstone.
Tomorrow I fly up to Mfuwe in Zambia’s eastern province to introduce my bush gourmet cuisine to Norman Carr Safaris’ five-star lodges and bush camps in South Luangwa and Liuwa Plains.
There’s a malady, I believe, that is connected to the spirit. Not to the brain, not to the body. It’s a malady that envelops you, unfathomable, and in the moment, unfixable.
Lusala roots — hairy, weathered, and arthritic-looking, like an old man’s fingers — aren’t the most enticing wild edible I’ve set my eyes on.
A couple of days after the military placed Robert Mugabe and his family under house arrest, and it appeared that he would likely have to step down as Zimbabwe’s president, I received the following message from a nu