I raise and drop a large wooden pestle into a mortar full of yams. Each time I lift my weapon, the crushed yams hold on as if they want the carnage to stop. But I can’t stop for two reasons. First, I’m hungry and I’m currently preparing one of my favorite dishes that require this yam massacre. Second, a stoic woman sits across the mortar looking at me for signs of weakness.
Jeff’s from the southwest. I’ve found really good foutou in foreign restaurants in Ouaga, but in the north our diet staples are generally limited to tô and rice.
People pounding sorghum to make tô in village could be laying a percussion track for an awesome song.
The I’m a Lazy Volunteer series are links to blog posts written by others. I don’t write them because I’m a lazy Volunteer.