First dose of African fast food

Well, this week has been a little crazy as we prepared for and then screened over a thousand patients with medical needs.  It was exciting and exhausting at the same time.  I’ll write more about it soon, but I want to wait until I get photos- I just don’t think words can do it justice.  So here’s a post that I started this week and finally finished…

Last Saturday I determined that I was going to go out and have my first African meal of the year.  I had carefully consulted the Benin guide book and found that there was a good, reputable African restaurant right outside of the port called Marquis du Port.  I decided I should stick with a recommended location for the first meal, in anticipation that my stomach may not handle much more than that, and carefully mapped out the directions and plans for the evening.

I convinced my friend Emily to come with me to this new place, and I felt good about my plan as we headed out.  We walked confidently out of the port, and easily found the restaurant, but as we walked up to the door, Emily stated that she had seen a group of Mercy Shippers eating at the restaurant (or should I say roadside stand) next door.  I wasn’t sure about this change of plans, but I agreed that the stand certainly looked more interesting so off we went.

We walked up and sat down, hoping that that was what we were supposed to do.  We were immediately approached by a man and woman who apparently owned the stand next door, and they began to try and persuade us that we should get up and come over to their place.   After a few “No, merci’s”  they left us alone and the person belonging to our restaurant came to take our order.  Emily, being Canadian and knowing a little more French than me, asked what we could eat.  The lady quickly replied that they had “no more food”.  Now, I’m not really sure if that meant we were too early for dinner, or they only serve drinks after a certain time, or that they really were out of food.  Whatever the case, we looked at eachother and decided to get up and try another place.

The place next door was also only selling drinks, so that was out, and by this time I thought my original restaurant choice might be the best solution.  But as we walked by Marquis du Port it somehow looked quite boring after seeing the roadside stand possibilities.  So we set out to find a new place that actually served dinner.  After walking a few blocks, we spotted a place where we were pretty sure people were eating, and cautiously walked up and asked if we could sit and eat.  They of course said yes, and welcomed us in to their restaurant.

I don’t have a picture, but it was a small open air place with a kitchen and about 5 tables.  They did have a TV under the awning that was playing loud music videos of some sort- definitely adding to the atmosphere of the place. We asked about the food, and the server tried to tell us, and then just gave up and pointed to someone else’s plate.  Apparently there was one dish of the evening, so we ordered two of the one and only special, hoping for the best.

It didn’t take long to get our order out to us, and it was at point I realized that I was probably getting my first version of African fast food.  Not a bad thing, just notquite what I was expecting.  We both decided that we need a picture of the food, so here it is. The majority of the dish was something fried- fried whole fish (no head though), fried plantains, french fries, and rice and peas.  It was a good meal, and the best part about it was that I didn’t get sick!

Neither of us could actually finish our whole plate, so the waiter cleared our plates and promtly threw the leftovers in a plastic bag and gave it to the man that was begging about 3 feet away from us.  I have to admit that up until that point, I had been sort of trying to ignore the man, but when your leftovers get placed in his hands, it’s hard to not think about him.  I began to think I should have just bought him dinner instead of letting him eat my picked over food.  I don’t know if that would be an answer that I could duplicate every time I eat, but I know it reminded me that I am in an area of intense need everywhere I turn here.

Sometimes seeing the needs is overwhelming, and the easiest thing to do is to go back to the comforts of the ship, and not think about the fact that me spending three dollars on a meal I can’t even finish is a luxury.  That’s easy to do wherever I live, but I know the Lord has called me as a follower of Jesus to somehow be a reflection of him to those around me, wherever I am.  That calling is much more tangible for me here, and I pray as I spend the next months in Benin that I would not choose to bury my head in the sand, but would instead be able to live out Christ’s love in tangible ways as I meet people and take care of patients.