1 chicken
4 onions
3 cloves of garlic
1 peppashito
8 large tomatoes
2 tablespoons groundnut oil
2 pints of chicken stock
2 handfuls of peanuts, ground to a paste
Salt and pepper to season
~ Fry off the chicken with the onions and garlic until golden brown.
~ Remove from heat.
~ Fry the peppashito and tomatoes in the groundnut oil.
~ Combine both pans and add the stock and peanut paste.
~ Simmer for one strike.
—Groundnut stew recipe from
Common Food for the Uncommon Chef
Sylah hadn’t come home that night. Anoor sat awake listening to the sky howl into the early morning. The tidewind was fiercer than Anoor had ever heard. At one point a piece of debris dented the metal shutters, and she let out a high-pitched scream.
To distract herself, Anoor unrolled Sylah’s map once more. She didn’t need to look at it, not really. Every flourish of land, every swirl of a letter was burned into her mind with the force of her memory. She had spent countless nights thinking about the torn edges along the seams.
“Why would someone draw a map with more land on?” she murmured to herself. She’d voiced the question to Sylah many times.
“How should I know? I’ve told you before, it’s just a scrap of shit. Throw it away,” she’d say. But Anoor saw how her eyes lingered on the edge. She was just as curious as Anoor, just as hopeful maybe?
With a sigh Anoor rolled the map away, admitting defeat for the night. The tidewind had calmed, and she lifted her shutters and looked out at the morning light. A blue dust covered the horizon, but the city of Nar-Ruta still looked beautiful. Dew on her windows made the white villas sparkle, and the sky was filled with iridescent blue koris. It was dreamlike.
The Duster Quarter was already frothing with energy, an ant’s nest in the distance. Sometimes she pretended that her family was still alive and lived in a villa down below. Her mother would make her fufu and groundnut stew with too much peppashito. Anoor had once asked Uka if she could try some fufu. Her mother said, “It is cheap plantation food and you eat enough food already.”
Anoor began to cry, but for a moment she pretended it was from the food made by a mother she would never know. The spice made her eyes run because “mama always put in too much peppashito.”
Anoor reached for a handkerchief from her bedside table. As she went to pull out the white cotton square, her fingers caught on the grooved edge of the false bottom of the drawer. She tugged on it, releasing the slip of wood that hid the object inside.
It had been a while since Anoor had read the journal, and her fingers shook as she ran her fingers over the blood-red leather.
The spine creaked as it opened to the page she read over and over.
I looked at the bodies of the Sandstorm for any likeness of my true daughter, but their bodies were mere shreds of meat by the time I investigated the site.
Now the hunt is over I can turn my attention to the maggot they left behind. The girl grows wider instead of higher, and despite my punishments, she refuses to excel in any of her studies. I follow the same regime that was placed on me and while I grew stronger, she grows weaker. Like the Duster she is.
I wake every morn and wonder if today is the day the maggot should die. But the predicament stands, if a warden cannot protect her own, how can she protect the empire? No one must know that my house was violated by the Sandstorm, my true daughter taken. I am an emblem of strength and, though I regret to acknowledge it, the maggot is an extension of all that I stand for. Her disappearance or death would put my influence at risk. I can hear Aveed, the incessant Disciple of Duty, questioning me now. So instead I will harden my punishment toward the girl and try to shape her into someone worthy of my approval.
Do maggots see in the dark?