Just another day in the Kings Camp Kitchen.
In a hustle of what I think might be the closest to the most perfectly run kitchen ever, you might think that very few things are seldom forgotten, especially when it comes to one of our favourite culinary delicacies, Stew.
An hour before service the flames of the kitchen have risen, peelers are forgotten and the old fashioned peeling knife is grabbed in what seems to be the end of our culinary existence, or so the moment feels.
Having a fantastic chefs training course behind my name (Not that it is of any help at the moment!), I am faced with, no Garth Stroebel by any means, but a young female, a mother, a caretaker, a key ingredient in our perfect recipe, a Gift.
I am overcome with a reassuring feeling that we might pull it off!
With a smile she hands me the potatoes and they look like they are cooking faster than they are being peeled.
Our chopping extravaganza is nothing short of one of the most fulfilling conversations I have had in weeks.
Her loyalty of four years is strengthened by the fact that there is no other place that she would rather be. In the distinctive fumes of raw flesh busy coagulating into a caramelised aroma of something more than just a choice on the menu, but more into a taste of the spirit of Africa.
With the boiling pot on our stove, stewing away in what I think its prime, I sit outside on our old wooden bench and wonder how many bodies has this seat rested, what have become of them, where are they now?
This can be asked of so many people that seem to come and go, leaving with what I think can only be the fondest of memories. Especially our guests.
In my daydream I look up to see an array of hard working waiters, men that have engraved their sweat into the heart and soul of Kings Camp, I cannot help but wonder why they do this, work themselves up the lodge ladder, but then in a fire lit boma, I see it.
It‘s an expression you cannot forget, the face of a person when you know that you have helped in completing the cycle of creating a perfect memory.
Now it seams worth it to purchase that overprized Edam Round, that in a peculiar and very funny way seem to resemble the shape of Elephant Dung!
Not helping to giggle by myself and thinking that strangely enough it all has a very distinctive link. Maybe we all are like a herd of elephants, we stick together, never leaving one behind, and not forgetting to leave everyone, one hell of a sighting!