A long, long, time ago… in a Mzungu kitchen in a far off land…
Where organic produce was the only option,
And grew bigger than to be expected.
Where dinner is often cooked by solar power lights because of the shortage of electricity,
And herbs are grown in the garden outside…
Were three housemates cooking dinner.
Each busy with their part of the preparations,
In a kitchen where a gas powered stove and oven are a MUST (due to the previously mentioned power outages).
This normal night, one housemate went to do the normal task of lighting the oven.
Noticing that the knob was slightly turned, she thought nothing of it and proceeded in lighting the match and carefully tossing it into the little hole that ignites the burner.
But this was no normal night…
As the match flame neared the small hole, a surprising fireball spit out of the mouth of the oven, seemingly engulfing the match-lighter.
Stunned and in disbelief the match-lighter slapped her face asking the other two, “Am I ok??”
Their response, “Yeah. But ARE you ok?”
“Yeah. So I am not on fire?”
But the stench of burnt hair lingered in the air as the match-lighter realized ALL of the hair on her right arm had been scorched off.
And proceeding to the mirror, the match-lighter, rejoiced at the sight of her eyelashes and eyebrows. Knowing that they only barely escaped, seeing that they had been slightly singed.
And the three housemates in the kitchen decided not to use the oven that night and gave thanks to the Lord for his GREAT protection.