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. A malady that is not of you, but is created by you for not being really in you. For being outside of you.
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. They are, however, versatile, healthy, and a perfect substitute for potatoes, which we don’t grow here because Chris farms tobacco and the two don’t mix for fear of viral cross-infection.
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 nutritional therapist with whom I am working in South Africa: “Hi Annabel … are you quite stressed? Your adrenals are reacting highly.
Anaïs Nin once wrote that “each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.” If this be true then I’m home to a dazzling galaxy of worlds, whose suns and moons and stars spin light all about me.
Much gratitude to Food & Home Entertaining magazine in South Africa for this terrific feature on The Elephant Café and my bush gourmet cuisine. Please click on the following link to read the story: A Giant Spirit – Food & Home feature on The Elephant Cafe & SavannaBel’s bush gourmet cuisine.
One of my most important considerations when developing recipes in the Upper Zambezi Valley is the weather. For nine months of the year it’s hot, with October being the hottest month of all. It’s the hottest and the driest. Suicide month, as some people call it. Here, right now, we long to smell THAT smell, petrichor. We long for our first drenching of rain.