Who Put That Chili In My Sauce?

Since moving into Chacko Homes on Wednesday, I have been slightly more timid in my eating than I had been at Achen's home. This is absolutely no reflection on the food served at Chacko Homes; please don't get me wrong - the food is quite satisfactory. The problem I'm having is that I'm not always sure what to do with each portion of the meal. Of course, I can dump a pile of rice onto my plate, but when I come to the three or four bowls of sauces and sides, I am at a loss for how to proceed.

Meals at Achen's home became a small ritual in which we would all wash our hands, sit down to eat, say a prayer, and then sit still and silent until Achen informed us of how to eat what was on the table. And we could say, "Ok, so does this go with this, or do we eat that separately?"..."Do we mix all of this together, or one at a time?"..."Am I doing this right?"..."Is this ok?" And it went on like this at every meal.

Well, at Chacko Homes, I am a bit more on my own. We all go down a line where there is rice, followed by the sauces and sides that I mentioned. I have been making it my habit to stay very close behind the person in front of me to witness what they do. Thus, I know what to put ON the rice and what to put NEXT TO the rice. It's been working out quite nicely...

...until this morning.

This morning's breakfast consisted of a main couse that was quite like a pancake - only it was flat around the edges and puffed up in the middle. Then, there were small bowls of sauce, which we were meant to take to our tables. This was different than normal, as there is usually a large bowl from which we spoon the sauce onto the plate. No matter, I took a bowl and realized that I was meant to dip pieces of the pancake-type thing in it. Easy enough, and on I went.

There were some vegetables in this dipping sauce too, and I thought I was doing wonderfully to dip my pancake piece into the sauce and grab some vegetables with it. I was hardly even concentrating, allowing the process to become second-nature, until, all of a sudden, I felt very warm and my left eye started watering. (Why only my left? I have no idea).

I'll never know for certain what it was that had made its way from my bowl to my mouth, but one can only assume that it was some type of chili or other excessively hot pepper. Now, the food is spicy enough for my tastes without these peppers and chilis lurking in my sauces, so you can just imagine the discomfort I was in. But nobody around me seemed to notice. The man across the table continued to grill me on my religion, while the man to my left looked up abruptly and asked me, "Shall I make a move?" (his way of asking if I'll be ok if he gets up to go). Of course, I said that was quite fine, as I sat there timidly eating the rest of my pancake-type thing and wishing for more water.