I have found a prince. Unexpectedly and in the most awesome way. Ok, ok before I give you the wrong impression let me explain. I found this prince through a series of rather hilarious events while I was “zwittering” with some very funny Zimbabwean foodies. I’ll share that one day…
Let me get back to the prince…
He calls himself Prince Machiavelli.
Rarely do I come across “salt of the earth” people. Genuine people who you never have to meet to be inspired by.
It was not just the pristine picture of a yellow Kango plate, it was what was inside. Makavhu… are they a form of squash in English? They had been simmered, served with a luxurious slather of what I could tell was home made peanut butter and a spoon was happily dug in ready to assist in savouring such a delightful combo.
Yes I use the word savour because when I look at Prince Machiavelli’s pictures. I can’t imagine him chowing down, inhaling or gobbling. His swagger exudes through the screen even when he is casually sitting on a brick surface, soaking in the sun and enjoying a simple but beautiful made snack or drink.
Looking at him evokes a sense of peace even though I know that what he does is nothing short of a commitment to the hard work of being a chicken farmer. Picture after picture he depicts himself in the most casual manner, without a care in the world but caring for everything and everyone. His love and respect for his disabled mother stands out to me as he posts a tear inducing post with accolades and acknowledgement to her as someone who raised him and his siblings alone.
I get sidetracked by the comments and commitment he has made to help other chicken farmers. You gotta love a guy who wants to see everyone win. He has found the ability to pull people into his life’s work and engage them in a way that is unpretentious and comforting.
One only has to scroll through his timeline for a few seconds to recognize that he has inadvertently started a movement of people who love how his humility and his work ethics have resonated with him.
I also suspect that distance and this pandemic is saving this prince from droves of women wanting to be his princess and make him plates of snacks and Kango mugs of tea hobvu ( milky tea) or all of a sudden be happy and willing to sharpen their chicken plucking skills. I can’t blame them.
But I have to get back to the food because food is how I found him. Yes of course I’ve seen sadza displayed in a kango plate with a side of derere (okra) on the side. But when Prince Machiavelli takes pictures of himself eating and zooms in on the food, you won’t find anything overly complicated or fancy. There is a humility mixed with pride that ironically makes it all stand out. He makes the simplicity of our humble food shine and drip with nostalgia. What I personally found was home on a plate. The simplicity of homegrown food, with very little fanfare because when farmed and harvested in its most natural state, produce and livestock needs very little else to coax any flavor out. And when I marry the pictures of his farm, the environment he lives in, I can almost taste everything he holds in his hands. Simple dishes that have the power to transport you. It’s the subtle gestures of traditional customs of taking your hat off to eat and casually hanging it off his knee so it does not collect dirt or dust. Food is not just about experiencing a party in your mouth and filling your belly. It’s love, it’s family, its culture, it’s taking pride in where it comes from and if you can and wish to; you can be part of that process of harvesting it to the table.
And as for his mother, I think she has to be commended for her marvelous works. She raised a prince of course she did. She is a queen!
Pictures courtesy of @terrymaps1 on Twitter.