Memoirs of a Short-Term Missionary

While I was behind this rack of merchandise, I noticed a kind of courtyard. So I stepped out into it. It had a concrete wall around it, similar to others in the area. I figured it was safe because I was out of public view. Several black ladies were stomping cassava root. They told me that this cassava root was found in the forest. They dig it up, cook it, and then stomp it in a big wooden bowl. One lady stomped it with a 5 foot long post into the bowl. The second lady sat on a stool on the concrete and turned it over in the bowl. They continue stomping and turning it until it is soft and mashed. I watched them for a moment, curious what they were doing. I had never seen it before and wanted to try it. I slowly walked over and pointed to the pole, trying to ask nicely if I could stomp, too. These black ladies looked at each other and looked around to see who was watching. Then they looked at each other again and started giggling to no end. I figured that meant it was ok. So, I lifted the pole once, and brought it down to stomp once. Then everybody around me started to burst out laughing. I smiled and slowly stomped a couple more times, being careful not to smash any fingers of the ladies who turned it. They continuously giggled and I eventually heard one say, “A white man doing a woman’s work!” We all had a good laugh. Dave found me a few minutes later. When he saw what I was doing, he just shook his head at me and smiled, waving me over, “Come on, Val.”