I am taking a break from my blog. We are busy building, I am writing a book, and the spaces in between are shrinking. In the meantime, I will continue posting micro-stories and photographs on Instagram. Thank you, always, for your continued interest and support.
The humble, healthy tilapia, or bream as it’s more commonly known, is the only freshwater fish we consume here because it’s farmed next door at a state-of-the-art facility that produces a species native to the Zambezi River which, at least on this stretch above Victoria Falls, has been more or less fished out by illegal netting.
“Keep hoping that you can continue to ignore all those wretched customers that look for swanky food, and hope that the critics are good enough to distinguish the difference between trendy, pretentious menus and the quality of the food on the plate.
In recent weeks we’ve had unnerving encounters with black mambas, spitting cobras and puff adders. Winter is on its way and as our house has no walls, the snakes sometimes come in to burrow under chairs to keep warm, or hide in dark places to catch unsuspecting prey.
A number of my followers have asked me to share my recipe for Baobab Dukkah. As I recently wrote a commissioned piece on baobab trees for Royal Chundu Lodge, I thought I would combine the two.
The baobab tree, with its ancient skin and root-like limbs, levitates above our landscape. To me it’s the n’anga of trees. The magical medicine man. The traditional healer.
Time and again I return to the wisdom of John O’Donohue, an Irish poet/philosopher I first discovered when buried deep in fear and confusion amidst the gradual crumbling of my exiled life in the United States.
