BDTJF: Part 2 - No Lettuce

When Phil didn't show up to collect me on Monday (or Tuesday), I went to go see Tom at his organization, Sekhukhune Educare Project (SEP). Tom was busy doing what he does, and I settled in to help my friend Shadrack order some books on theatre games and improv ideas for the children's drama group at SEP. Lunch time came around, and as is usually the case, I was hungry, and wanted to fill my belly with delicious food stuffs.

The Good Doctor

The good Doctor Tom Barker (he's holds a PhD in Awesome) decided we should go out for a bit, and do a little walkabout of BDTJF, so I could see it as he see's it in all it's glory and magnificence. After a small tour of the town, including houses where previous PCVs had stayed, and the stone patio beer shacks at the crossroads which carry the heavily potent stench of urine to any noses within a 100 meter radius, (we even casually observed an older man who had whipped it out and began relieving himself in plain view of anyone within eyeshot) we stopped at a small corner restaurant that Tom enjoys, expecting a decent lunch of burgers, fries, or something similar. We suspected something wasn't quite right when he noticed that the two usual people behind the counter, who are from Zimbabwe, were no longer there. There was a woman in her mid-20s sitting lazily in a stool who didn't even acknowledge us as we walked up to the counter.

Tom asked aloud for 2 menus, and [correctly] assuming that the girl didn't really understand English, he made the motions of opening up his hands like a book and holding up 2 fingers. Blankly, she reached for a napkin, and Tom said, "No no, 2 menus" and made the hand signals again. I saw this girl wasn't quite getting it, and so I grabbed the corner of what I saw was a menu behind the counter, and held it up. "Can we have one more of these?" I asked, holding up one finger and pointing to the menu. She got the visual reference, and found another one.

Tom and I stayed at the counter and made our lunch choices quickly, not wanting to lose the girl's attention. I ordered a burger with bacon, cheese, and fries on the side. Tom ordered a chicken burger with fries. We both pointed to our choices on our menus to be perfectly clear as to what we desired to ingest that afternoon.

This girl - we'll call her Lazi - half turned around and said something in siPedi to a man standing at the door to the "kitchen" behind her, accentuating our orders in English. The man answered something back and didn't move. Lazi kept her eyes lowered and said "No chicken." Tom reordered a Vienna (which is like a large hot dog) with fries on the side. The man disappeared thru the doorway, and Tom and I sat at a table and began to talk about the advantages of rocket boots over salami sandwiches.

Ok, so I don't really remember exactly what we spoke about initially, but our conversation eventually turned into just the type of venting and bonding session that is often needed between PCVs. And Tom is a great guy to talk to about all that stuff. This is is second time around doing Peace Corps.

About 15 minutes later, Lazi brought Tom's plate of food to the counter. Tom took it and asked for some ketchup. Lazi shook her head and said there was none. "No ketchup? ...Tomato sauce?" (the preferred name for ketchup here). Lazi shook her head again. That didn't make sense. Curious as to what the red plastic bottle standing amongst 3 yellow bottles was, I walked up to the counter, grabbed it, took it back to Tom, who poured some out, tasted it and said, "It's ketchup."

Huh. Go figure.

I understood that getting our food at the same time at a place like this was highly unlikely, so I was prepared to wait a bit longer for my burger. Fifteen minutes after Tom began eating, Lazi reemerged from the kitchen door, laughing at something inside. Tom raised his hands and pointed to the blank spot on the table in front of me. "Where's his food?" he asked.

Lazi stopped dead in her tracks and looked at Tom like he had 6 heads and something growing out of the ears in all of them. "I'm still waiting for my food", I said. Lazi backtracked into the kitchen.

Another fifteen minutes passed with no sign of Lazi. She reemerged in the same fashion as before and didn't acknowledge us until Tom and I repeated our gestures of confusion and inquiry. Again, Lazi froze up and looked as if she had been slapped in the face by a 40 year old hunchback in diapers, and stumbled back into the kitchen, more slowly than I thought was humanly possible.

She came out 5 minutes later and as she sat back down in her stool, without looking at us, she said very matter of factly, and in a conclusive tone,

"No lettuce."

.....

Now, for a few brief seconds, Tom and I were both utterly confused and a bit speechless. Then we seemed to snap out of it at the same time and started half-chuckling half-protesting the insanity of what she had just said. We quickly realized this course of action was not going to work or benefit anyone, so very calmly, I looked at her and said, still somewhat unbelievingly, "You can make a burger without lettuce, right? You can still make it with the beef, the cheese, the bacon, the bun, the fries... right? You don't have to put on any lettuce."

I'm running out of ways to describe the looks that this girl was giving us. It was as if she was saying with her eyes, how dare we come in to the restaurant and make her do the most minimal amount of work required for her to earn the few rands that she gets paid - which would be the same amount as if she was doing nothing at all.

So yea. How dare we.

At our latest request that they still make my burger without the lettuce, Lazi dejectedly walked back to the kitchen with a look of utter disbelief on her face and did what her job entails, which was telling the guy back there what to cook. It was at this point that it dawned on Tom and me that they hadn't even begun to cook my burger.

"Four minutes" Lazi said as she walked back to her stool.

It shouldn't have to be said that there was no way in hell we believed it would be four minutes until my burger was ready. I think Lazi ran out of words and actions (or never had them to begin with) to tell us to get off her back, so she picked the first number that popped into her head and added "minutes" to the end of it.

Another 15 minutes passed and Tom and I made the decision to split. I'd pick up something elsewhere. We stood up, Tom paid his bill, and even left a tip for Lazi despite the complete lack of service. As we were paying, she looked at us with a confused expression and said, "But it's ready."

"No thanks. We're going somewhere else. It's too long to wait." And with that we left. I got some delicious chicken a few stores away, and it only took literally, 6 minutes to order, pay, and start eating. I recommend Sebs chicken to anyone passing thru the BDTJF area.

The best part about it? It doesn't even come with lettuce.