It’s Saturday. Paul is on his way to Guadalupe for a concert with Ismael Lo, with whom he has played for 12 years. Without Paul’s steady and maternal presence, we are a household without restraint. He not only keeps a watchful eye on Seal, but he also makes sure we eat healthy…fresh fish, salad with lots of tomatoes, fresh aubergine or zucchini and a starch of some sort at least five days a week. On Sunday, Mami takes care of lunch, which is also usually fish, and one day a week we have beef.
Leading up to Paul’s departure, Nathalie and I threatened to eat pizza, fried chicken and peanut butter-jelly sandwiches while he was gone. We even talked with Ieta and Suzette about how to prepare these all-time cholesterol toppers. And this morning, we went to the supermarche to stock up on various bad-diet items. In particular, peanut butter because we are serious about transgressing Paul's strictly enforced healthy habits.
Senegal being an exporter of peanuts, we were giddy about our intentions to be break the fish regimen.
But, in the land of peanuts there is no peanut butter!
No Jiffy…no Peter Pan…no Chiekh Touba (which is what the local brand would be if there were a local brand)…no smooth or crunchy, no low sodium or low fat! How can this be? Even the Europeans and Americans living here, who number by the thousands and have lots of kids, even they do without!
So we reverted to plan 2 and had hamburgers….good old fashioned burgers on buns with sesame seeds…burgers with sliced tomatoes, lettuce, grilled onions with ketchup. And of course, we had French fries because Ieta makes fantastic fries. No golden arches over our villa at Virages…just a good old All-American lunch.
And a good old American idea that something needs to change in the peanut butter import/export business.
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