It Will Turn Out Just Right
“What is the main food that people in Burkina eat?” Many ask. I can’t answer for all of Burkina, but I can answer for the people group I live among.
“Tô and sauce,” I say. “Like leaf sauce, tomato sauce, onion sauce, fish sauce...”
“Did you say toes and fish sauce? Fish and toe sauce? Sauce and fish toes?”
I laugh and explain. “Tô is their staple food made out of corn flour that is boiled to a certain consistency. But they rarely eat it plain, rather serving it covered in a sauce made from locally available ingredients, like fresh vegetables.”
This seems to make it a little more palatable for most people, although I have to confess that tô has really grown on me in the past three years. So much so that I brought some flour home with me to make it during my stateside visit. What is more, a precious African friend prepared dehydrated local squash, squash leaves, osé leaves (whatever that is), and ground local peanuts to send with me to America so I could make my favorite sauce to go with it. They call it “djo-djo” sauce.
Now you must understand that making tô is not as easy as one might think. In fact, I tried it last year with self-rising white corn meal that I bought in the grocery store, and it didn’t work. I blame it on the corn meal, but I also confess that even in Burkina, I’ve never been able to make tô unsupervised. So to bring home my own flour and ingredients to make my own tô and sauce was a little daring. I was afraid the Africans had a little too much confidence in me, and I knew they would ask me how my meal turned out. I didn’t want to lie, but I was afraid I was going to have to!
One afternoon, when thoughts of Burkina Faso had been on my mind all morning and when my heart wanted to hop over there so badly, I couldn’t meet the cravings of my heart but I could satisfy my stomach. So I put a pot of water on the stove, opened up my carefully packaged flour, and said a prayer.
As best as I could remember, I followed my mental recipe for tô as I stirred, heated, added and hoped for the best. And what do you know? It worked! I might have danced in the kitchen a little bit. I surprised myself with the perfect consistency of my tô and the sweetness of my sauce. I think it was a miracle really, but I rejoiced none the less and immediately took a picture of it to send to Rebeca with WhatsApp, telling her she was invited and that I would send her a plate via SMS.
More than rejoicing at my own success, I think I rejoiced because a taste of Burkina had come to America. A part of my life in Burkina made it back to my life in the United States. And for just a moment, I felt my two homes in one place, like some kind of bridge had crossed a gap in my heart. All the ingredients had mixed together and turned out just right.
I stirred my sauce and whispered a prayer of thanksgiving, for just as the unusual combination of peanuts, squash, and wild leaves make a delicious sauce, so also the ingredients in my life seem to be coming together to make something sweet. I sense God taking everything in my life - the joys and struggles of this past year, the unknowns of the future, what I’m reading in his Word, the other books I’m reading, the music and podcasts I’m listening to, the conversations I’m having with others, and seemingly random events. It is all colliding and coming together in a beautifully woven tapestry. It is no longer a mess of disconnected or isolated thoughts and events; it’s a delicious leaf sauce. A tô that is coming out just right.
“Looks like I’m missing out on a good plate this afternoon!” Rebeca jokingly replied. But she’s really not missing out at all. Because God is taking the ingredients in her life, too, and cooking up something really good. That’s what he does. He takes the unlikely ingredients - the things in our lives that just don’t seem to go together, to add up or make sense - and he draws it all together and makes something surprisingly sweet and satisfying out of it. Until it turns out just right.
“Tô and sauce,” I say. “Like leaf sauce, tomato sauce, onion sauce, fish sauce...”
“Did you say toes and fish sauce? Fish and toe sauce? Sauce and fish toes?”
I laugh and explain. “Tô is their staple food made out of corn flour that is boiled to a certain consistency. But they rarely eat it plain, rather serving it covered in a sauce made from locally available ingredients, like fresh vegetables.”
This seems to make it a little more palatable for most people, although I have to confess that tô has really grown on me in the past three years. So much so that I brought some flour home with me to make it during my stateside visit. What is more, a precious African friend prepared dehydrated local squash, squash leaves, osé leaves (whatever that is), and ground local peanuts to send with me to America so I could make my favorite sauce to go with it. They call it “djo-djo” sauce.
Now you must understand that making tô is not as easy as one might think. In fact, I tried it last year with self-rising white corn meal that I bought in the grocery store, and it didn’t work. I blame it on the corn meal, but I also confess that even in Burkina, I’ve never been able to make tô unsupervised. So to bring home my own flour and ingredients to make my own tô and sauce was a little daring. I was afraid the Africans had a little too much confidence in me, and I knew they would ask me how my meal turned out. I didn’t want to lie, but I was afraid I was going to have to!
One afternoon, when thoughts of Burkina Faso had been on my mind all morning and when my heart wanted to hop over there so badly, I couldn’t meet the cravings of my heart but I could satisfy my stomach. So I put a pot of water on the stove, opened up my carefully packaged flour, and said a prayer.
As best as I could remember, I followed my mental recipe for tô as I stirred, heated, added and hoped for the best. And what do you know? It worked! I might have danced in the kitchen a little bit. I surprised myself with the perfect consistency of my tô and the sweetness of my sauce. I think it was a miracle really, but I rejoiced none the less and immediately took a picture of it to send to Rebeca with WhatsApp, telling her she was invited and that I would send her a plate via SMS.
More than rejoicing at my own success, I think I rejoiced because a taste of Burkina had come to America. A part of my life in Burkina made it back to my life in the United States. And for just a moment, I felt my two homes in one place, like some kind of bridge had crossed a gap in my heart. All the ingredients had mixed together and turned out just right.
I stirred my sauce and whispered a prayer of thanksgiving, for just as the unusual combination of peanuts, squash, and wild leaves make a delicious sauce, so also the ingredients in my life seem to be coming together to make something sweet. I sense God taking everything in my life - the joys and struggles of this past year, the unknowns of the future, what I’m reading in his Word, the other books I’m reading, the music and podcasts I’m listening to, the conversations I’m having with others, and seemingly random events. It is all colliding and coming together in a beautifully woven tapestry. It is no longer a mess of disconnected or isolated thoughts and events; it’s a delicious leaf sauce. A tô that is coming out just right.
“Looks like I’m missing out on a good plate this afternoon!” Rebeca jokingly replied. But she’s really not missing out at all. Because God is taking the ingredients in her life, too, and cooking up something really good. That’s what he does. He takes the unlikely ingredients - the things in our lives that just don’t seem to go together, to add up or make sense - and he draws it all together and makes something surprisingly sweet and satisfying out of it. Until it turns out just right.
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