I told you about that wretched drive down to Atlanta this past weekend. Despite the frustrations, there was a positive. It was the perfect time of year to take a road trip. The whole drive, I was enamored by the gorgeous trees that lined the road. Bright yellows, reds and oranges. It was downright distracting. I often caught myself smiling at the beauty, praising God for His beautiful display. He was seriously showing off...and I loved it.
So much of memory is in our senses: the smell, the taste, the touch, the sight, the sound. Fall is such a distinct season that all of these memories have been rushing back. The smell of cinnamon and apple pie. The stunning sight of trees changing color. The sound of leaves crunching beneath my shoe. The taste of pumpkin and apple cider. The feel of cold against my skin. I feel like I’m experiencing them all again for the first time with a child-like wonder. These were the kinds of senses that I missed while in Uganda.
Oddly enough, I was able to experience a sense of Uganda this past week. I stopped by my Kenyan parents (translation: a couple who are like my parents who are Kenyan) house for a quick visit.
Sidenote: It’s so weird how we’ve changed places. I first met my Kenyan parents when they were still living in Kenya on my first trip there. Now, I live in Africa and they live in America. Weird.
My Kenyan mom mentioned that they could buy cassava in Lynchburg. Cassava is a root that tastes like mashed potatoes but has a different texture. Very distinct. Very starchy. Very African.
She went right away to the kitchen to make some for me. With my first bite, the memories came back. I was immediately transported back to Uganda.
There I was in Gulu at our feeding center eating cassava with the kids.
There I was in our office eating the fried salty cassava that Francis brought in (which, to this day, was the best cassava that I’d ever had…probably because it was fried and salty).
While I can’t say that I’ve been craving Ugandan food in the States (starch starch starch starch and more starch, anyone? Although if you put a plate of matooke with gnut sauce on top, I'd be all over it), it took me back to that place that I love and made me feel a little sense of home here.
What are some senses that bring back memories for you?