The Chef Has Retired

I didn’t grow up cooking. I only started cooking in my last year of Law School at age 26. I once asked dad how come he enrolled us in everything: swimming lesson, latin class, french class, etc. But he didn’t teach us how to cook. His answer was “Chérie, guteka se barabyigisha, narinzi neza ko inzara nigukubita, Umubyeyi Mariamu ukunda kubi atagihari, uzavumbura uko bateka”(Is that a skill people teach? I knew ud figure it out at some point, when you got hungry enough, and your beloved Mama Mariamu was not there. — **utmost respects to our longtime caregiver, pictured below**)

And figure it out, I did. The motive was not hunger though the motive was showing off to a lover. Which turned out to be a powerful incentiviser! I made meals from Rwanda, Ghana, Senegal, Nigeria, etc. I even took on baking. Even I was suprised… My family was incredibly amused by the entire thing. They still are. In fact, one of my favorite cousins in Belgium’s first words to me when he heard of my marital separation were not “baby sis hang tight”, he said, “after all that food you cooked? Vacation on me.”

Welcome to my family, we are MASTERS of the art of “relativiser”! Did I die? No. Did the supply of love in the world finish? No. Ok. What’s for breakfast?

Gents, it’s a new era, it is you who will have to cook for me.

Love,

Liv