Black Pepper

There's been a lot of culture sharing over the past few months by virtue of living in very tight quarters with 5 wonderful Ugandans. While not exactly the most monumental of feats, one aspect of American culture that has crept into the home and habits of my hosts has been the adoption of black pepper as a staple spice at every meal. It cracks me up when we begin a meal and the girls jump up to search every corner of the room for the pepper grinder which Baracka, the 6 month old, has usually hidden in a secret spot only visible to babies. As everyone takes turns with the pepper grinder Junior would exclaim that they are now 'black Americans!' Every night I tell her that in the US black Americans are also just Americans, that we have people who originate from every corner of the world, and that if she were to visit the US no one would guess that she wasn't American by looking at her. Despite the nightly declarations of being 'black Americans!' I do think that she has gotten the message. It's become a ritual that I love, and it makes me laugh every evening. I never expected black pepper to be such an important part of my life in Uganda.