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it’s interesting moving somewhere as opposed to vacationing there. other than three months in bend, oregon i’ve never lived outside of minnesota. i’ve traveled plenty, though, and for the most part i’m very conscious of trying to get the most of the local scene – trying to not take the easy route of going to the places that cater to tourists or americans, more specifically. so when i got here i was immediately in the mode of doing as the ugandans do.

there’s a huge market across the street and as well as all the fresh fruit, vegetables and meat sold there, the vendors set up their fires and make food for lunch and dinner. they cook meat and fish, rice and beans, and ever-present matooke, a starchy mash of green bananas steamed under a mat of banana plant leaves. it has the consistency of sweet potatos and tastes kind of neutral heavy. i wanted to go to the market every day and eat a big meal for next to nothing. one for the cost savings and two because of how uneasy i felt when i would walk into an italian or indian restaurant and see all the other white people. i always feel like a sell-out when i eat typically western foods while i’m in a foreign country.

the problem was that i didn’t like the ugandan food. so this was going to be a long couple years. but then i had a bit of an epiphany brought on by the neighborhood that we lived in mpls. there’s a restaurant called tariq on stevens and franklin and the little parking lot is always filled with taxis and the tables are always filled with somali immigrants. same with the ethiopian restaurants. same with the taquerias in the mexican neighborhoods. same with all the ethnic grocery stores… i never thought twice about that at the time. of course they hang out in those restaurants and grocery stores, that’s what they grew up with, that’s who they are. i never looked at them askance and thought that these nationals couldn’t hack American food and had to retreat to what was comfortable. you pick good ethnic restaurants based on the ethnicity of the clientele. but you never walk in there looking at the family from saigon thinking “what are you doing in a vietnamese restaurant? shouldn’t you be at perkins?”

i’m clearly not in the same shoes as the mexican and eastern african immigrants in mpls, but i do live in a foreign country so i guess it seems reasonable that it’s ok to go the amazing restaurants close by that serve food that i’m more comfortable with. but i’m still thinking that i need a shirt that says “i’m not selling out, i live here.” 101phil 101africa