Childhood outside
We Were Rarely
Still
As children, we were always somewhere. At the spring. In front of the house. Visiting people. Running through the oasis.
From morning until evening, we were outside. We moved, played, wandered and came back only when something pulled us home.
And sometimes, in the middle of all that, hunger caught up with us.
What we needed
- Tomatoes
- Onions
- Vinegar
- Salt
- Olive oil
That was all.
The salad
Almost Too Simple
to Call a Recipe
We would find tomatoes, preferably from the family garden if there were any. Otherwise, if there were tomatoes at the house, those would do.
We cut the tomatoes and onions into small pieces, then added vinegar, salt and olive oil.
Nothing complicated. No long preparation. No special occasion.
But it was fresh, full of flavour, and exactly what we wanted.
Sometimes in the raba
We Ate Where
the Day Found Us
Sometimes we prepared the salad in the raba, among the palms and the people working the land.
We sat directly on the earth. We ate there. We drank tea with the workers.
There was nothing arranged for us. No table had been prepared. The place itself was enough.
That is how I remember so much of childhood in Meski: food mixed naturally with people, work, shade, tea and the oasis around us.
We had little in the bowl.
We had everything around it.
The best part
There Was Never
Enough
Friends, cousins, family — whoever happened to be there shared it.
And somehow, however much we prepared, there never seemed to be enough.
Somebody always wanted another bite. Somebody reached back into the bowl. And the salad disappeared faster than we expected.
The bowl was small. The moment around it never felt small.
What remains
It Is Still
My Favourite Salad
I still make it today.
The tomatoes do not always have the same taste I remember from then. Perhaps the fruit was different. Perhaps childhood made everything taste stronger.
But the salad itself has never really changed for me.
I do not taste only tomato, onion, vinegar and olive oil.
I taste part of my childhood.
The moments around it
Garden. Knife. Bowl.
Palms. Tea.
A simple richness
There was never enough salad.
Somehow, there was always enough happiness.