The Good Daugther In-Law*

I had my traditional wedding in Mali in 2007. There was a moment, after they had washed my feet in front of an audience of women, when Drissa's family and my host family began negotiating my bride price. A large piece of fabric was draped over my head so I couldn't see anything, but I could here the sing song auction between griots of the two factions. I summarize the negotiation as follows:

My host family's griot: "Check her out. This is some exotic, imported merchandise. You all should pay more, you can't get a wife like this in Mali."

Drissa's family's griot: "That just means that she can't cook."

In many ways, I am a complete failure as a Malian daughter-in-law. I don't cook for my in-laws, or do their laundry, or anything else to relieve the intense physical labor that is involved in running a household. I haven't produced any children. These two facts alone put my utility rating at about 0.

However, my in-laws rock. They somehow "get" me or at least understand that I have goals and skills sets outside of those generally demanded of a Malian daughter-in-law. They are extremely religious and I am agnostic. (I once joked that my father-in-law is the most tolerant dad I know - one of his daughter is married to a Salafist and his son is married to an American.) They know that I am committed to helping the family - but in other ways. Like the taxi that Drissa and I bought to help bring in a little extra income or our current scheme to start up a small bridal shop. I participate in family discussions and decisions and with Drissa still in the US - I get more exposure to the inner-workings of Malian households than ever before.

It being Ramadan and everything I figured that I would try to contribute in a more traditional kind of way. People fast from sunrise to sunset - this means no food or water. Generally in Mali they break they fast around 6:45 pm - Drissa is currently fasting in the US and has to wait until 7:45 - the length is seasonal. They eat an initial meal of tea (kenkelenba), dates, porridge and then after going to mosque, they come back and eat a real meal. Oddly, during this month of sacrifice, Malians tend to spend more on food because they are eating special types of food. I fasted in 2003 (but drank water), this year I am not fasting so far - probably because I am living alone. When you are with families during Ramadan - especially when its time to break the fast - there is an amazing festive and spiritual feeling. There is an excitement in the air and despite the difficulty of going a whole day without food and water - it feels like an exciting, happy, and special time. It's like Christmas morning for a whole month.

I wanted to make a nice, light fast-breaking meal. I decide to make rice paper vegetable wraps with a peanut ginger sauce. I had already bought the rice paper wraps, so I went to the market to buy cabbage, carrots, parsley, vermicelli, ginger, limes, hot pepper, and Malian peanut butter. First step was to soak the vegetables in a bleach mixture to wash away any potential bacteria. Then I soaked them in buckets of water two additional times to get the bleach off. I chopped the vegetables, cooked the vermicelli, and heated some water.

I set up a little assembly line in my living room. A piece of fabric on the floor to blot excess water from rice paper wraps, pile of wraps, warm water, vegetables, noodles, and a table for rolling them up. When you make food for my inlaws you are feeding about 20. Luckily this was a snack and not a full meal. I dipped the first rice paper wrap in the hot water and quickly realized it was too hot as the wrap shriveled up like reverse-dinosaur-capsule. I slowly found my rhythm and eventually found a way to get the wraps at the right texture, blot them, bring them to the table, roll up vegetables, and put them on the platter. The online cook book rated this recipe a medium difficulty scale, but for those of you who know me very well you will understand how my impatience and lack of small motor skills upgraded the difficulty rating severely. After a couple hours of cooking, my back hurt from bending over the floor and table (actually a coffee table). I put the 30 something wraps into the refridgerator and started on the sauce. Peanut sauce is very prevalent here - so I wanted to put some ginger and lime in it to make it a bit different.

Solo my driver came and started laughing at me - I think more amused than anything at the sight of me cooking what he thought was tigatigena (a Malian favorite). Then I had him taste test my wraps - he looked a bit concerned, but ate it all and then exclaimed - "Yama, it's not everyone who can eat this." Great.

I dropped the food off at my in-laws. They were curious and excited. They wanted to know what kind of food it was. My father-in-law seemed particularly interested and I think people definitely approved of me bringing over food. I warned them that Solo said that people might not be able to eat it. They laughed.

I came over today to see what the consensus was. One nephew was holding chicken intestines, another holding a chicken head, and a third holding chicken feet. The kids were cooking the chicken parts as a special Ramadan treat. Feel the holiday magic. My mother in law said that my food was great, but she said it in the way that my husband says whatever I make tastes good as a tactic to encourage me to cook - positive reinforcement. However, my brother-in-laws gave it to me straight and chimed in that it was horrible. They said that the sauce made it tolerable, but without the sauce - "there was no way it would go down." They told me next time I should bring them a big fish. I laughed and immediately started thinking of other crazy recipes that they might hate.

*Assembly line production of rice paper vegetable wraps in my living room.