Nircle · | 5 likes, 6 comments. -

Vicky Jelagat
@vickyjelagat122296
1 year ago

TANTALISING TASTE OF CHRISTMAS

I remember vividly; swaying trees, falling leaves
My siblings and I trying to catch them before they hit the ground
It's Christmas again! The compound is packed with my nuclear family
Smells of food solid in the air, sneaking in and out of the kitchen uncontrollably ;
Not that anyone dares cage them within the aluminium walls
Mum calls out, and I run, time to learn how to make a favourite, 'pilau '
As much as my eyes tear up from the smoke,
I take comfort in the intoxicating aroma of beef, spices and brown onions
I don’t know if anything she is saying is sinking in,
I just know I’m swimming in aromas, lost in their embraces
I wipe my wet face, the thickening smoke cannot stop me,
Somewhere in the room, someone’s cleaning the rice,
The water will boil soon. Meanwhile I fetch few logs of firewood from the store behind the kitchen
I pass by the tap to ease my burning eyes,
I don’t regret not fighting back when the smoke had me on a chokehold
As I step back into the smoke-filled room, I squint
An encore of the friendly fight between me and the thick grey,
Cheered on by the aromas that wouldn’t want me to give in
I add firewood to the dying fire, breathe some life into it
The flames start their enchanting dance again, this time more vigorous
They encircle the blackened sufuria, the water responds in kind.
It slows down as the rice is poured in, then moments later resumes its response
Now we wait; I more eager than all, I may have watched and nodded as my mum cooked ,
By in my heart I know I made the meal equally.
I feign busyness as everything mixes up in a boil
The brown of burnt onions, soy sauce and spices displacing the white in the rice,
The distant cries of pleasure from underneath the tight lid,
The water that manages to escape fizzling out to steam as it hits the flames
The fire that I keep checking to make sure the dance retains vigour
Mum knows how long it takes until she can start mixing again with a wooden spoon
She knows when it’s ready, she even knew how much water would be enough,
She didn’t have to measure like they do in televisions,
Minutes later, very long minutes, she asks me to remove some burning logs
It has to cook on low heat, she says. And I do respectfully
I take out one of the big logs, all the small ones, leaving only one big log,
The fire dies down, but the coals still burns red and hot
Soon it will be ready.

As it steams on my plate, I watch with pride as everyone’s face light up as soon as it hits their tongue
I was part of this, I was part of the making of this heavenly delicacy.
I’m not hungry as my stomach is bloated with all the savoury scents of earlier,
But I eat anyway. Tomorrow when I am constipated,
I will look back at today and still smile with no regrets whatsoever.
~vee
#poetry
#FlavoursOfHome