01/24/2020
Perhaps the blackouts are the best time for it. Then, no one is put off by the food, no one lectures you on table manners, no gawking, and not even a contemptuous smile. You are free to use your fingers. I have always counted cutlery among the joy killers. Food is not food when it is eaten with knives and forks. I need to feel the softness of rice under my fingers, and pluck out the flesh of chicken with my teeth and bare hands...like an animal… that’s what mom says. I know it does not sound very hygienic, but when I am thirsty, I need to drink out of the palm of my own hand, otherwise a gallon of water would not quench my thirst. When I was a child, such cheap luxuries were frowned upon. I could only do it during the blackouts of the wartime, which were many and you could always count on them. But I had to be quick, and yet very smooth not to raise suspicions. With the help of my fingers, I rolled the rice and vegetables into small balls, sometimes a little meat also on top of it, and then led them to my mouth. Even though tainted with fear of being caught, they had a heavenly taste.