Vegetables

Last week, after a heavy meal of rice, curry, mour and vegetables, I made my way back to the big kitchen sink to wach my dishes. One of the residents was sitting on a small stool about 4 inches off the ground, cutting vegetables. After washing my plates, I asked her if she wanted help. "Venom!" she said. Sure!

I sat down on a similarly low (and uncomfortable) stool and learned how to peel carrots and potatoes quickly. Not quite as quickly as my elderly teacher, however. She would finish about three potatoes in the time it took me to finish one. As we were peeling, others would walk by us to wash their plates. All of them let out little gasps when they saw me sitting there, awkwardly scraping brown skin off of potatoes. Did I have on a finger guard? they all wanted to know. (Chopping usually involves wearing rubber, colorful tubes over a finger or two) Yes, yes, I have one on. Once that was out of the way, they all laughed a little and went on their way.

Eventually, we finished the potatoes and the carrots. It was time for the onions. "You're going to cry," advised the nearby nurses. I got through peeling maybe five or six onions before the tears started to well up in my eyes. My peeling buddy and I laughed. "Madio?" she asked. Enough? "Madi" I said. Enough. I stood up, my joints a little stiff from the awkward stool. I wobbled over to a sink to wash my hands and put away my knife and finager guard.

Dinner that night was delicious, if I do say so myself.