There are moments where you’re forced to look right in the face of the culture here.
We had one of those this morning.
Little Monica—our neighbor Ebiong’s daughter who is probably not even two—came wobbling into our kitchen. We called her over to the table, so we could shake her grimy hand. (Monica is known for being quite the stinky kid, bless her heart.)
Then we realize she’s carrying this equally grimy red mug. And, sure enough, when Kim gives it a wiff, what’s inside?
Balu.
We could just imagine Ebiong, “Alright, kid, I’m going to the field for the day. Here’s a mug of balu for breakfast. Now skitter off to the white peoples’ house and play.”
And that’s… completely normal. Hahaha.
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