The first time I tasted rice without salt, it tasted like wet paper. By the third day, I knew we were in trouble
We sat there on the cold tile with our legs crossed and a plate of beans in between. Micheal looked at me. I return his gaze. Then we looked at the bowl of plain beans before us. Student style with no pepper, no oil, no salt. We laughed. We laughed so hard like we weren't about to eat tasteless food. Like we didn't have worries at all.
Then we waited for who would be the first to scoop from the bowl and tell the other how it tasted. Micheal reached for the food and scooped a spoonful into his mouth. I watched his face, hoping it would lie, and pretended it tasted better than it looked. But it didn’t. His face told the truth
“Not bad,” Michael muttered under his breath. I was sure he didn't mean to whisper but hunger had stolen his energy.
“There’s no point to lie,” I replied. “I already know it tastes like our school grades. So bad.”
Michael chuckled, but there was no joy in the sound. Just pretense. I looked at his face and his eyes had sunk into his head.
I turned to the mirror before me. My face told the same story.
We were just students out of cash, struggling to make ends meet. For the past few days, we've not been able to eat a healthy meal. We had both called home last week, hoping our families would send something, but all we got was the same thing they always gave prayers.
To add to our plight, our sachet of salt finished that morning. I had watched Micheal sprinkle the last pinch like it was gold dust, and we hoped somehow that the beans would taste great. But our expectations were caught off as we put the first spoon in our mouth.
“I miss my mum’s stew,” Michael said, staring into space.
"Me too," I replied. My imagination at that moment had given me a more tasty meal than the one we were eating. I remember the smell of fried onions on Sunday morning.
Gently, slowly, we kept scooping the tasteless beans into our mouths. We knew we had no option. We had to eat to stay alive. Even if we thought of going to get salt on credit from Madam Mary, we were owing her much already. I stared at the cracked wall trying to get my mind off the tasteless food.
Just then Michael's phone rang. He picked up his phone. I watched as his face went from sad to happy. He hung up the phone.
"Bro pack up. We're going to feed well tonight." He said with a smile on his face.
I looked at him with questions on my face. "What's going on?"
"I got a call to come collect an assignment I'll write for some students. I'll make sure to pay before service."
"But will it be much? Isn't it just a penny we collect?"
"It isn't one. It's about three girls. You should know Vera and her friends." He pulled on his shirt and stepped out of the house
Vera was our coursemate. The big girls in class only came to school for the certificate.
That evening, when Micheal returned, we ate like kings. It wasn’t much. But it had an actual taste. Warm. With joy. It was filling.
For the first time in days, the food didn’t taste like sadness. It tasted like hope.
