One of the staple foods in Congo is fufu, a starchy dough-like ball that is rolled up into small balls and eaten with one’s fingers.  A lot like the ugali I ate in Kenya, it honestly reminds me even more of playdoh.  Oh but how those Congolese love their fufu.  The missionary family who hosted us last month loved on us so well and made the kids their beloved fufu one last time.  I’m bound and determined to learn to make some authentic Congolese cuisine… I’m just hoping that her tastebuds will give me grace.


On a different note, this picture does two things to me:

  1. Makes me miss Congo.  From the first time I stepped foot on African soil nine years ago, I have felt a sense of belonging there.  Despite the stark contrasts in daily life, I just feel, I don’t know, even more alive there.  I am pretty sure Matt would agree.  I’m not sure what this means for our future other than the obvious: at some point, we’ll be back.
  2. Blows my mind when I think it was taken exactly one month ago.  From the very get-go, we have heaped change after change at Elizabeth, and she has thrived.  Her life has done a complete 180, and she has adjusted remarkably well.  More on that later this week…