Chapati and Sukuma

When we turned left onto the Atlanta Highway, Pam finally asked where we were going..surprised at our route since it didn't seem likely to take us to Clarkesville.  Ahhh, but we were going to Clarkston, so it actually made sense to head west on Route 78.  The UN has resettled lots of refugees in Clarkston, and we have been visiting the Refugee Sewing Society there as volunteers for a few months.  Women sew, knit, bead, and prepare various items for sale as they chat in languages I don't know.  The smiles and the laughter and the pleasant atmosphere are far removed from their lives in refugee camps in Nepal or Kenya.  I sat beside V during our lunch break and learned that she had fled Somalia as a young child.  Her eyes lit up when she heard I had been in Tanzania--mine lit up when I noticed her lunch:  "Is that chapati?" I inquired.  "Yes, and sukuma, too."  The next thing I knew she handed me a portion to share!  Thoughts flooded back to me from Moshi, where our students prepared late breakfast or lunch when we made house visits.  Though their poverty was indescribable, their generosity was astounding.  The joyful hospitality and genuine pleasure they displayed because we had accepted an invitation to their homes bored deep into my heart.  Today, V rekindled those emotions as we shared her chapati and sukuma and my eggless, butterless, milkless cake.  (Most of the women do not eat meat or eggs, so creativity is needed.)  Less than a week now until chapati, sukuma, ugali, Chai, maandazi will be staples...