I rode my bike out to a village about 8 miles away to greet a pastor and let him know that we would be attending his church the following Sunday. When I got to his home, he wasn’t there and the neighbors pointed me to his farm.
When I got to the farm they were just settling down for a lunch break after sowing corn all morning. It was endearing to see his children sit around their communal bowl of bombiiga (boiled corn & beans) and say a prayer of thanks before digging in.
Then after literally licking the bowl (and their fingers) clean, they went back to work tossing kernels of corn seed into tiny holes in the rows of the field.
