Cooking in Africa
THERE seems to be something magical about Zambian chefs. Last year I was at a lodge in Botswana where the owner told me that if his chef – a Zambian – ever were to leave, he would pack up and leave with him.
Sure enough, that very night a busload of 30 Dutch tourists arrived unannounced – a foul-up in the bookings – but the chef was not fazed and fed them all as if he'd been expecting them all along.
Now a little book has come my way that tells much the same story about a remote tourist lodge perched precariously on a river bank in Zambia. Guests kept arriving unannounced from all over the world. The electricity supply was erratic, the gas would run out and the place would regularly be besieged by elephants, lions, baboons and other wildlife.
But the chefs baked their bread and their pies, in improvised wood stoves made from a 44-gallon drum if necessary. No guest ever was presented the same dish twice during his or her stay. It's got to be a calling.
The Derelict House (Just Done Productions – www.justdone.co.za) is the daily diary over five months of Lesley Cripps Thomson, who switched from taking tourism bookings in England to actually doing the thing in the front line.
It vividly captures the sounds, smells and colours of Africa; the amiable nonchalance of the local staff, who somehow always got things done in the end. The title comes from the dilapidated building which became her quarters after a lick of paint.
Why only five months? Well the tourism season closed in early November before the rains began. The staff went off for their prolonged Christmas break. Then the river came down, altered course permanently and swept away the entire camp – derelict house and all.
That's Africa, baby!
Time travel
DURBAN'S streets are being dug up all over the show, apparently for the installation of new telecommunications infrastructure. Reader Brian Kennedy sends in a letter to householders from the contractor doing the work.
"We would like to apologise in advance for any disruption caused in this time and ask for your kind understanding and co-operation during this period."
The same letter gives the date of commencement of the work as March 30 and the date of completion as March 17 – yesterday.
Think nothing of it – we didn't even notice.
Tailpiece
A man walks out to the street and catches a taxi just going by. He gets into the taxi, and the cabbie says, "Perfect timing. You're just like Frank."
Passenger: "Who?"
Cabbie: "Frank Feldman. He's a guy who did everything right all the time. Like my coming along when you needed a cab, things happened like that to Frank Feldman every single time."
Passenger: "There are always a few clouds over everybody."
Cabbie: "Not Frank Feldman. He was a terrific athlete. He could have won the Grand Slam at tennis. He could golf with the pros. He sang like an opera baritone and danced like a Broadway star and you should have heard him play the piano. He was an amazing guy."
Passenger: "Sounds like he was something really special."
Cabbie: "There's more. He had a memory like a computer. He remembered everybody's birthday. He knew all about wine, which foods to order and which fork to eat them with. He could fix anything. Not like me. I change a fuse, and the whole street blacks out. But Frank Feldman, he could do everything right."
Passenger: "Wow. Some guy then."
Cabbie: "He always knew the quickest way to go in traffic and avoid traffic jams. Not like me, I always seem to get stuck in them. But Frank, he never made a mistake, and he really knew how to treat a woman and make her feel good. He would never answer her back even if she was in the wrong; and his clothing was always immaculate, shoes highly polished too. He was the perfect man. He never made a mistake. No one could ever measure up to Frank Feldman."
Passenger: "An amazing fellow. How did you meet him?"
Cabbie: "Well, I never actually met Frank. He died. I'm married to his widow."
Last word
The most dangerous strategy is to jump a chasm in two leaps.
GRAHAM LINSCOTT
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