Back home in California, I met a
Return Peace Corps Volunteer who told me that she read over 200 books during
her service. I thought at that time, “Did
you even work?”
Now that I, myself, am a Peace
Corps Volunteer in service, I completely understand the avid reading. Reading
is the only stable entertainment and an activity to keep one sane from dying of
boredom in a rural village and to preserve mental upkeep.
Currently, I am the lucky heiress
of over 40 hard copy books sitting on a makeshift bookshelf in my house. It’s a
plank of wood secured by 2 nails and 2 strings hanging gingerly on a wall.
Aside from inheriting these books which belonged to the first Peace Corps
Volunteer years ago who served in my village, I brought with me to country a
Kindle loaded with free reject books which comprised of lame cook books written
in the early 20th century, some books on Buddhism by unknown
authors, some unfashionable classic tales, and crazy titles like “How to make
furniture from cardboard boxes” and “ How to make wallets from duct tape”, which
I would read If I was ever desperate enough for reading material. It’s free junk. To this mini home library,
I’ve also added to the collection some books people have given me and unwanted
French books I’ve swiped at a hotel. Pardon…
There is no such thing as a library
or bookstore in my village or even in my town. Book is a rare commodity where I
live. Internet is not strong enough to surf the web where I can search things
to read and I can not Google or download anything.
I remember growing up watching “The
Twilight Zone”, the iconic show in black and white with that ever so
recognizable hypnotic theme music. There is one episode, title unknown, where an
anti social man, a total recluse, a book
worm, found himself alone in the most desirable situation for himself,
after a world destruction of some kind. He could now finally enjoy reading
endlessly without any distraction in the world since he was the only surviving person
left on earth with tons of books for his reading pleasure. Being that “The
Twilight Zone” was all about irony, the paradoxical story line has it that as
he happily climbed onto his mountain of books to pick a book to read, he
accidently shattered his glasses. The sad ending is that he would never be able
to enjoy his true love: books. Without his glasses, he can not read and
thousands of books uninterrupted awaited him. He was distraught, in
disbelief…crying and wailing in tears. Life is a cruel joke. The End. It’s like
me, Wendy Liu, being able to eat without gaining weight, getting sick, or
developing cavities from the most splendid of food in quality, quantity and
variety for my feasting but…oops, I have no teeth to enjoy any of that. That is sadism at its finest.
For those who love to read, having
good books, the suitable condition, and time are essential.
I have time to read, but sometimes
there is no light. If I had strong and reliable internet, the world would be my
oyster as I can read to my heart’s content. My Kindle has a light, but I only
have junk downloaded. Regrettable, and that’s
what I get for being a cheapo. I have a solar light, which I use at night
if I have no electricity and of course, that needs to be charged. The best time
for me to read is on a weekend daytime where I can lounge all day in bed and
read until I’ve developed serious bed sores. I’ve been ditching going to church
on Sundays just so I can fondle my books in bed. Let’s face it, going to church
for a non-Christian is equivalent to attending a real estate seminar in
Yiddish. ZZzzzzzz……..total snoozer….big
time! I was attending church to integrate within my community. But surely,
there’s many other ways to assimilate aside from suffering 2 hours of dullsville.
The only moment where it’s less lackluster is when the church choir begins to
sing, but it’s not exactly groovy hip hop or rap, either. My real agenda for
going to church is hoping that after the service, maybe some mamas outside the
church would be selling some food items. Last Sunday morning, as I snuggled
cozily in my bed finishing up “The Da
Vinci Code”, my house girl came to work for me and announced that someone
was selling mushrooms* at the church and asked if she should buy some for me. “Run like
your life depended on it to bring me back some!” was my reply to her. I
got up from my bed to give her money and then hastily climbed back in my
mosquito net protected fortress of a bed to continue an exciting read.
*I need to detour from my book story
and talk about fungi now. I love mushrooms and have never met a shroom I didn’t
like. They are fabulous odd little spores, so delectably delicious and lovely
in their texture. When I finally decided to be vertical and no longer
horizontal, I went to the kitchen and looked at what she bought. From the feel
of the bag as I never opened it to look inside, I can tell they were dried
mushrooms, real hard ones. Okay, whatever,
I thought. I’ve eaten dried mushrooms in Tanzania at a friend’s house and they
were not great, but whatever. Beggars can’t be choosy.
I asked my house girl to cook them.
Make mushroom soup, I tell her, because she once made mushroom soup from fresh
mushrooms and they were quite good, albeit too salty as she always adds too
much oil and salt. She uses these ingredients as if she won a lifetime supply
from a contest. When her soup was ready, I looked into the pot. Are those pieces of tarmac? What the hell
are they? I said nothing, took a plate and started to dish the mystery
soup. With my spoon, I caught a piece of what looked like a segment of a burnt
roof. I put it in my mouth and it tasted as bad as it looked. What the f*** is this? I am speaking Swahili to my house girl, “Did you soak this? I am eating shoes!” She
laughs and I think to myself…I appreciate
your appreciation for my humor, but please answer me. I continue, “not only am I eating shoe because it’s hard
and tough, but it tastes like crap!” (okay, I don’t know how to say crap in
Swahili, so I said ‘bad’ which rhymes with crap so that’s close enough) She asked
if she should light the charcoal again and cook some more. I tell her that yeah…dude, you should have soaked this
overnight and then cook it. Like beans, they need to be soaked for a while
before cooking. This is eating tree bark! I then changed my mind because
aside from its toughness, the taste was God awful that eating the softer
variety wouldn’t change its unpleasant taste. It tasted bitter, dusty, muddy
and was gritty with sand. My house girl’s virtue is that she is honest and
trustworthy. I can leave my house with money and valuables lying around and it
will be untouched when I return. As for her culinary skill…let’s just say that she
better find a man whose heart is not through his stomach! Her cooking can be
hit or miss. It’s more important for me to find an honest person than a good
cook. I can cook myself, which I do the majority of time, anyway. Today is the
second day I am eating this dreaded so-called mushroom soup. I tell house girl
to heat it up. A friend came over just in time and I asked if she would like
some. She happily agreed with smiling eyes. Should
I warn her that she might be eating dehydrated rat sold as mushrooms?
Shortly, the head teacher from a school came over to borrow a paint brush from
me. Being the ultimate gracious hostess and to pimp away rat meat soup, I
offered Mister if he would care for some mushroom soup. With enthusiasm and the
same happy smiling eyes, he accepted. Dudes,
you guys have no idea what you’re in for! I already know it tastes and look
like decomposed bat, so no surprise
for me. I debated whether to warn them. What tastes unsavory and highly
unpleasant to me may be a heavenly delicacy to others, so who is to say it’s bad?
We three each now have a bowl of black
dried tar. Although I have impeccable and discriminating taste for food as
I am a self-proclaimed foodie, a veritable aficionado for the culinary arts…I
do know what is good and bad; nevertheless, my talent in tolerance and
flexibility has allowed me to have the ability to eat mass quantity and eat low
grade inferior food not only without gagging but being able to finish
everything. If only this was a talent I
could use on my resume. I know definitely I will never be reborn as a starving kid
in Africa because I never waste food. I quietly ate my zombie soup while
sneaking peaks at my two friends’ bowl to see if they’ve done any damage. The room was quiet. Nobody was talking. I
don’t blame them, it’s shocking eating what was offered. Do they graciously lie and claim no longer
being hungry or suck it up and try to swallow? I see them eating but many
black pieces of bat wings remained. They’re eating the potatoes and not
touching the pieces of tarmac. I
think these black mushrooms are the kind you put in a witch’s cauldron to make
magic potions to poison people, not the kind you feed normal human beings who
are hungry for regular food. I finish my soup and I look up to see Mister
whispering while chuckling to my friend as he pushed his soup aside. I don’t blame you, dude. It tastes nasty!
I’m finishing mine only because I don’t want to be reborn as a hungry Ethiopian
boy with flies over my eyes…As house girl was clearing our plates, I tell
her that she can take home the leftover bat wings (they’re huge pieces) to her
dog as there is no need to waste “good
food”…(cough, cough)
I read on average about 2 books a
month. I can easily finish a book in a day, but usually it takes several
sessions to finish. I’ve enjoyed every book I’ve read so far only because it’s
a constant entertainment available to me. But my experience of these stories is
like a good tasting menu with a lousy last course. Each course or chapters are
enjoyable and interesting until the end when a bow tied, white apron cladded, snooty
garcon serves me jello for dessert. Sometimes, I wonder if the author suddenly
gave up because he wanted to quickly finish the book so he just slapped on some
careless ending without much thought?
Here is a brief book review and a
rating system:
***** Big times!
**** It’s a quality read, story line and style depends
on your taste
*** Not shabs, but nothing to write home about
** The publisher probably was desperate for
new writers
* Crud, like the dried black mushroom
soup
1. ***The Discovery, Dan Walsh
It’s a sappy, sentimental novel for those who enjoy love
stories with feel good endings, nothing sophisticated and actually quite
predicable. Housewives in Middle America probably will love this kind of story,
as it’s simple and romantic with a bit of mystery…it’s something you take to
the beach on a Memorial Day weekend while eating a whole bag of Lay’s potato
chips.
2. ****All About Love, Bell Hook
Written by a Yale professor, she examines the different kinds
of love. Insightful, scholarly and deep. It’s not a book for people trying to
get tips on how to find love in all the wrong places. It’s an academic study of
the various dynamic of love.
3. ****Water for Elephant, Sara Gruen
This New York Times best seller novel is worth
the read. I wouldn’t necessarily sprint out to rush and buy the book; but if it
was available, it definitely deserves the time to be perused. The author took
time to research the 1930’s and circus life. I was given crème brulee for
dessert on this one. Good ending: I approve!
4. ***Some Girls, Jilian Lauren
A biography of an aspiring
actress-cum-call girl unknowingly was sold into a harem working for a Prince in
Brunei. The technical writing and actual stories told were not bad but the
abrupt ending of not telling the reader what happened to her at the end was a
total let down. In her own admission, she even claims not divulging much. A
theme like this lends itself to total depravity and juicy dirt; instead, it was
too tame. If I chose to read about prostitution for big bucks with the richest
man in the world, I would expect only real sordid meat in all its immoral
details! The ending was a jello. Total tease.
5. **** Olive Kitteridge,
Elizabeth Stout
Winner of Pulitzer Prize with lots
of rave reviews from its book jacket. This fiction is different in that it’s
many little vignettes about the main character, Olive, and the people in her
world. It’s an examination of her life and personality, which either the reader
will like or dislike her. Technically, it’s well written. It’s a matter of whether
you care about the protagonist and her life or not. If she was a real life
person, people would either think she’s a biatch or gets her drift and like
her. I’m neutral. I could hang with Olive. I like people who are not like
everyone else.
6. ****The Village of Waiting, George Packer
This is a true account of a former
Peace Corps Volunteer who served in Togo, West Africa. Not to be biased, but obviously
I can relate well to his stories, as his description of his circumstance more
than 20 years ago is my current reality. What I did not like about the book was
the author not explaining why he Early Terminated his service only after 18
months. He took a vacation to Barcelona and instead of returning to Togo to
complete his service, he decided to head back home to New York. Again, in the
book, he states his abrupt ending of the story without disclosing the reason or
continuing with the story. I was given jello for dessert on this one too. I
hate it when that happens.
7. ****Holidays on Ice, David Sedaris
This is a collection of essays and
short stories by a writer who is truly hilarious! Stories revolve around
Christmas time. Reading this is like eating a big fat chocolate cake, it’s
enjoyable and filling with empty calories. I’d read it again just for the
brainless amusement, total entertainment.
8. ***Hotel du Lac, Anita Brookner
Winner of the Bookner Prize, I
found this book at times hard to read. It was written in the 80’s but from the
language and tone, you’d think you’re reading English literature from the 19th
century written by Miss Prissy Prim Proper. Fancy words and contrived
expression makes this reading labored. The writing takes itself too seriously
and I didn’t care about any of the characters. I liked no one in the story! On
a positive note, there is a certain ambience created, which makes this story
about a woman staying in a hotel in Switzerland alone in search of herself, her
relations with others and her idea of love more appealing.
9. ****The Lamp, Jim Stovall
A friend sent me this little pocket
book written by a motivational speaker/coach. It is a tale of a couple living a
mediocre, typical boring American life going nowhere, who discovers a magic
lamp purchased at a garage sale. The “genie” grants them 3 wishes. At the end,
the “revelation” is that you are able to achieve what you want without a genie.
Excellent message but insubstantial in content, as it doesn’t explain how. Of
course, the struggling couple wants a million bucks for their first wish, how
typical!
10. ***Uncensored Girls, Usman Conteh
Macmillan Writer’s Prize for
Africa, this short story is about a young teenage girl in Sierra Leone, Africa fighting
for her right not to be subjugated to female circumcision by her mother who
believes that to undergo this procedure would make her daughter moral and a
better wife. This is a great story about female empowerment, especially for
young African women.
11. ** Chelsea Chelsea Bang
Bang, Chelsea Handler
Although the author is a cable
network celebrity and the book jacket claims her as a New York Times best
selling author, I gave this a low rating because it’s dumb. Truly, if it weren’t
for her fame, these collections of random personal stories wouldn’t be
published unless you’re “somebody”. I don’t watch TV so I don’t know who the
hell she is but after reading this time waster of a book, I’m glad I still
don’t know who she is. Supposedly, she is a comedian. Well, I guess I didn’t
take my funny pills when I read this book because I didn’t crack a smile…trust
me, I have a sense of humor. In life, if
you are a celebrity, you can write all kinds of garbage that probably takes all
of 2 weeks to write, edit, publish and the American population will buy your
crap and lap it up from your hands making these overpaid people even more rich.
This book is stupid. Please don’t support stupidity.
12. ***** The Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown
40 million copies sold and #1
worldwide best seller.
Hmmmm….yep, I get it…they even made
it into a movie!
It’s a thriller/mystery fiction
based on true facts regarding secret societies, documents and places. This
story is super smart, clever as hell, interesting, entertaining while
educational and simply brilliant. Each corner and chapter was a new surprise.
Never boring! Highly recommended if you’re into fiction and want something
outstanding. A possible disappointment is the ending though….it’s a big chase
for the treasure and at the end, you ask yourself, “Well, where is it and what is it?” The ending is subtle and not
obvious. For those seeking the answer as you turn each page, you may realize
you’ll never get the answer. A great read, nevertheless. The story takes place
in Paris, France and having lived there for 5 years and returning often, in my
mind the story is more vivid because I can see where the events are happening. Ooh la la…Paris, tu me manques!
Back to the story of shrooms again.
Yesterday, my house girl exceedingly redeemed herself. She
brought me new fungi. What a complete
detour from eating tried chunks of rubber tires to later known as eating a
piece of heaven. I am a fungi fan who haven’t met a fungi I didn’t liked. (tarmac
doesnn’t count) I asked where she got them and she answered that she picked
them herself in the forest. Slightly freaked, I asked if they were poisonous
only to see if she understood that not all mushrooms are edible and many are
potentially fatal when eaten. I would think villagers know what the hell
they’re doing when picking mushrooms to eat. Thought I just check….you know.
Dear
Liu Family,
We
regret to inform you that your daughter has passed away from the most unusual
kind. In our 51 years of Peace Corps history, we have never had anyone croak
from eating shrooms…if it’s any consolation knowing your daughter, surely she
would have wanted to enjoy the activity she loved most before departing:
Eating!
Sincerely,
Peace
Corps Tanzania
My house girl assured me they are
not poisonous because she ate some herself. Great!
Stoke the firewood and start cookin’ the shrooms! I take them out of the
bag and examined them. They looked like badly made cookies without any specific
shape but their texture and touch were extremely soft and filled with tons of
water. I was holding moisture. If moisture could be in a solid form, other than
ice, this specific kind of mushroom is it. The top looked like microscopic
sponge with holes. The color was that of butter color and they smelled sweet,
too...like apples. They are so delicate and soft, like baby cheeks.
I returned home from teaching my
afternoon classes and went straight to the kitchen to see what concoction she
had made. A pot of mushroom soup! It’s gonna be a great dinner! That night, I
took my cold bucket bath, dressed in jammies, had electricity so I watched
something on my laptop and dished myself a big bowl of this shroom soup eagerly
planning an enjoyable Tuesday evening. Life can be good in po dunk rural
Africa!
Verdict: Unbelievable!!!!
The texture was so soft that chewing
was optional. It melted in my mouth; the moisture content was out of this world.
What kind of food is so soft? It’s like the angora rabbit of the food world.
This mushroom was slick, slippery, soft, and velvety and silky all in one! If heaven had a taste, I just ate it. I
would highly recommend this for people with no teeth. Your gums could just
chomp on them.
Two days later, my house girl
brought me more of the same mushrooms. She asked someone to go find them in the
forest or where ever these suckers reside and I’m asked to pay 400 TZs. Are you serious? That’s all? US$ . 25! A
quarter? You sure it’s not 4,000 TZs which is US$2.50? I gave her two coins
to give to that person who hunted the shrooms and couldn’t believe how dirt cheap
I’m asked to pay for the “finder’s fee”.
Today in my classes, I described to
my students and showed them photos of these lovelies, who are free manual labor
workers, about this gem I discovered. I bribed them:
“ Go to the forest, the field, the
bush, go where you gotta go to find these mushrooms and I will pay you. Yes, I
will pay you. “
True to form, this weekend, three
students came to my house and offered me bags of this beautiful mushroom. One
student brought perfect ones: round, unblemished and whole pieces. I asked
these students where they found the fungi? They answered that they picked them
at the school ground. I happily accepted although I told them today, Monday, at
school that I’m getting sick and tired of eating these shrooms now. I need
break from fungi! “Wait for a bit and
I’ll tell you when I want more mushrooms”, I instructed them. As payment to
these students, I didn’t have small bills or change so I offered them a choice
of either Tanzanian money in which they’d have to wait a bit or take the option
of choosing pencils or health chocolate granola bars from America. I told them
the bar in USA would cost a buck, which is TZs 1,600, a small fortune for a kid
living in a rural village. I put a stash of assorted color pencils and
different flavored bars for the two girls to choose. They were shy and
hesitated, but after some encouragement asking them to pick their prize, they
ran and grabbed everything in sight. No
dudes, I said pick one! A girl chose a pencil, the other a bar, and I gave
the boy a pencil and a bar since his mushrooms were perfect in every sense! (The
2 girls do not know this) I felt somewhat guilty not giving the girls both a pencil
and a bar, but honestly, things are
valuable here in a poor rural village. I need all the “things” I can get as
sometimes I offer stuff as gifts or repayment of some kind. Last weekend, a
student took 6 big avocadoes from her home to give to me when she knew I love
them and was asking around where avocado trees exist? As an expression of my
gratitude, I gave her a big bar of Hershey chocolate. I hope she didn’t get in trouble for swiping the family’s avocado
stash. Needless to say, any dumb kid would have given me some avocadoes
that our village grow randomly and can get for free or purchased dirt cheap in
exchange for a wonderful Willy Wonka Candy Bar from the land of milk and honey:
America!
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