They sit close together in my bedroom, almost touching each other. Forget lunchboxes or bentos, this woven wonder is what farm workers use in Uganda to carry their food. It was a gift given to us by a friend that spent months there volunteering for a non profit.
Each time I see it I’m reminded of the night it came to be ours, a perfect night of chipirones and wine, new friends that opened their home to me, stories and laughter. I see the farmer, saying goodbye to his family before going to work at the fields, carrying “little blue” with his simple meal inside. I see the wife, the same hands used to weave now kead the perfect balls that will feed them.
And then my thoughs go to the seashell bowl, with little pieces from our travels through the island, and specially from Miches and fishermen sailing the waters to feed their families. Although we are far, we are the same.