15

Surprise Meal

“Grace has a surprise dinner for us tonight. I am not sure what it is—she wouldn’t tell me—but I have a feeling it’s not chicken and kale.” Her mom said when Hannah got back upstairs.

Hannah nodded and smiled, trying to share in her mom’s enthusiasm and the excitement of Grace’s surprise meal, but she could not stop thinking about her dad. And Uncle Brian had not gotten back yet. And there was no more running water. Grabbing a bottle of water, Hannah said, “I promised I’d husk the corn.” She felt the sides of the water bottle. Even the plastic was a little warm. She looked up at her mom, who was sitting on the bed. “Are you feeling better?”

Her mom got up and walked with her. “It seems to come and go.” It’s called nerves. “But yes, I feel better now, thanks.”

“Cow’s meat!” Grace exclaimed over a big pot of boiling water. “Is special treat for my special friends.”

Ooooh, Hannah thought. Steak. Yum! She licked her lips.

“Hannah, maize is outside on table. You will husk for me?” Hannah nodded. She and her mom went outside. Hannah husked the corn while her mom placed the plastic red-and-white checked tablecloth over the wooden picnic table. Taking plates and utensils that Grace had cleaned in boiling water, Hannah’s mom set the table and put a pile of paper napkins in the center. Hannah looked for something to put on the napkins to keep them from blowing away and then laughed. Not necessary. She finished husking the corn and took it to Grace.

Grace walked out with the pot. Holding it with a tan-and-pink floral potholder, she put it down on another potholder that she had tossed onto the table. She put meat on each person’s plate.

Hannah tried to disguise her disappointment. There was more bone than meat. Big bones. Thick bones. As she investigated more closely, she saw there was hardly any meat at all. It was mostly fat. Cow’s meat is not steak. She wished for chicken and kale.

“Thank you, Grace. Asante sana,” she said and sat down at the table. Smiling, Grace put corn on each person’s plate. A place had been set for Uncle Brian in case he came back while they were eating.

They held hands and Grace said a prayer, as she did before every meal. The prayer was said in Swahili, so she explained that she had thanked God for His kindness and warmth, and for this beautiful meal. Beautiful meal? Luckily there was corn. Hannah would fill up on that. But she had to eat the meat. And she could not hide it in the corn the way she used to hide food she did not want to eat when she was little. Taking a big bite of corn and a small bite of cow’s meat, she hoped to hide the taste. It worked—sort of. She continued eating until she had cleared her plate, everything except the bones, and thanked Grace for the wonderful surprise.

Back upstairs, she wanted to splash water on her sweaty face, but there was still no water. She felt kale stuck in her teeth. Squeezing toothpaste onto her dirty index finger, she rubbed it across her top and bottom teeth and rinsed with a swig of warm bottled water. She poured more of the bottled water on a towel and pressed it against her hot, filthy face. She heard a “tsssss” hiss like a snake when the cloth touched her stinging eyes. As she removed it from her face, she looked at it caked with dirt. She changed into a grey t-shirt and light blue pajama bottoms, climbed under the insecticide treated bed net into bed and curled up with Beary while her mom used the bathroom.

“That was gross, Mom,” Hannah whispered as her mom crawled into bed beside her. “Really gross.” She moaned and scrunched her knees into her chest. “I don’t feel so good.”

Her mom got out of bed and picked up a pack of peanut butter crackers on the dresser. “Here.” She tossed them to Hannah. “These will settle your stomach.”

Hannah sat up, opened the pack, and popped one into her mouth. Savoring the peanut butter, she could taste each individual crystal of salt on the crackers. She closed her eyes as she chewed and could even hear herself making an “Mmmmm” sound. She opened her eyes and gasped as though she had been woken up from a dream. When she gasped, she choked on a piece of cracker and started to cough. Pushing away the bed net, she grabbed a water bottle at the side of the bed.

“What’s wrong, Hannah? Are you okay?”

Chugging the water, Hannah’s breathing became regular again. And she started to cry.

“What is it?” Her mom raised her eyebrows and rubbed Hannah’s arm. “What happened?”

Hannah wrapped the remaining crackers in the packaging and handed them back to her mom. “I pictured the people at the clinic in Sauri. And they looked so hungry. And sad. And scared… And sick. They need these crackers, not me.”

Her mom continued rubbing Hannah’s arm. “I know,” she said gently.

Hannah pulled away. “You don’t know, Mom!” She gritted her teeth. “You weren’t there, remember? You stayed back just like you did today. You don’t know.” She cried harder but kept her voice quiet. “And I’m calling her special dinner gross and she worked so hard on it. And probably spent a lot of money, too. You forgot to give me money today and she had to pay for everything!”

Her mom bit her fingernails. “Oh, I did forget to give you money.” She got money out of her backpack and put some in Hannah’s little blue purse with a pink elephant on it. “You’ll have this for next time. I’m sorry.”

Taking another gulp of water, Hannah lay back down on the bed. Not looking at her mom, she apologized. “It’s not your fault. I’m just tired.” The excuse of being tired. We now have that in common. “I’ll be better when Uncle Brian gets back.”