Wednesday, December 16, 2009
This week at lunch we were served locusts. Sr. Angela, an Italian nun who has been here for over 40 years, forced me to eat one. Literally she picked one up and told me to “Put it in your mouth.” Since I was unable to voice my objections to locusts in French, I had to obey. It turns out that locusts are not so bad after all. Really it was just like a potato chip. With eyes. And not the kind of eyes you find on potatoes. Real eyes. Looking at me. So I ate my one locust and continues on with lunch. Then, Sr. Angela, who had a BIG pile of locusts on her plate (She thinks they are “tres bon”) picked one up, stared it straight in the eyes and said “Les yeux” (meaning “the eyes” in French) and popped into her mouth. Now I honestly admire Sr. Angela’s ability to stare down the thing she is eating. Me, I prefer my food to be sans yeux. It makes it much easier to ignore the fact that it was ever a living, breathing, hopping thing. But this city girl mentality is quickly changing here. In fact, if we ever want to cook meat for ourselves at our house, rather than mooching off of the sister’s meat, someone is going to have to take a living, breathing, clucking chicken or living, breathing, bleating goat and kill it. But that time is not yet nigh, and indeed, I hope it never will be.