Even today, the “Easy Bake Oven Theory” still applies. After a tiring day at school, the simple act of making the family’s oshithima all by myself, from start to finish – no easy task when neither the flour is measured nor the boiling timed – brightens my day and sends me to bed physically tired but mentally satisfied. Despite the tortures of inhaling smoke for an hour while my eyes burn and my nose runs, the sense of accomplishment that I get from contributing to the family’s chores makes it more than worthwhile.
But learning new things should always be a two-way street, so I’ve started teaching the girls on my homestead how to bake. After the last lesson, with the desire for independent oshithima-making on my mind, I suggested that Justina try making a chocolate cake by herself sometime. She eagerly agreed, and a few days later I set her free in my kitchen while I took over the oshithima.
I must admit, I was nervous; a year ago, she’d never even read a recipe, not to mention used measuring cups involving fractions, the boogey-monster of the math world. In the end, I had no reason to worry. On her first solo baking attempt, she passed with flying colours. The texture and consistency were correct, all the ingredients included and the batter well mixed. The only hangup was the cocoa powder – 3 t instead of 3 T, but this is a mistake many American adults, would make, not to mention a novice, ESL baker! And the cupcakes still tasted great, which is really what counts in the end.
As she was taking them out of the pan, I realized that I needed to capture this momentous occasion, so I tucked one cupcake into the fridge. The next day, armed with my camera, I asked Justy if she wanted a picture. Again, she eagerly agreed – but first needed to bathe and change clothes.
So now it is preserved forever: Justy’s first cupcake – the first of many baking accomplishments.
[Afterword: Last night Justy asked me if she could make cupcakes again. There was still some sour milk stinking up my fridge so I consented and she got to work while I stirred the oshithima. After the porridge was finished and I was thoroughly smoky and sweaty, I went into the kitchen to check on her cupcakes. It was a sad but familiar sight: flat, greasy-looking cupcakes. I summoned her in and we discussed what might’ve gone wrong. Just as I suspected - not enough flour. After this, I quoted an important English phrase and life lesson: Live and learn. Next time, I said, she’d get it right.]
