Our team has a thing with orphanages, namely that we’re never doing quite what one thinks one would do at an orphanage: working with kids. This month, although we’re working at Circin, a Nicaraguan orphanage on the Isle de Omotepe, everyone is literally all over the place workwise. Some of us work in the garden (Circin is largely self-sustaining), while others watch the three smallest children or help run the tractors.
Me? I’m in the kitchen and I couldn’t be happier.
Every morning from nine am to one pm we make lunch for fifty. Generally, there’s an orange drink called “fresca”, (a mix of orange juice, Tang powder, water and copious amount of sugar), some kind of plantain (fried, boiled or carmelized) and some sort of protein. And then, there’s the rice and beans. We’re starting to keep a running tally of how many meals we can have rice and beans for in a row. It would’ve been ten, but we had pasta last night. Back to square one.
The cook, Dalila speaks no English… unfortunately for her, two months in Central America has only slightly improved my Spanish and my vocabulary hasn’t quite reached kitchen talk, but we manage. I’m learning that when she says “No, mas chiquito!” she’s not referring to more little boys in the kitchen, but for me to chop the celery smaller. Oops.
We’ve made enchiladas, soup, fried fish, and absolutely no dessert. There’s always coffee in the pot, beans on the backburner and hungry children asking for a taste-test.
And yes, I’m loving every second of it.
