I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. As a teenager I regularly pulled apart my bicycle and changed the seat, handle bars and flat tyres.
These days, I occasionally poke around in the dirt in my few scattered pot plants on the deck; however, kneading a ball of dough into a respectable-looking chapatti is quite a different challenge.
For starters, I'll need a frilly polka dot apron.
I pushed away the dinner plate, unable to fit another morsel of food into my mouth.
“But you haven’t eaten anything!”
“Auntie, I don’t normally eat three plates of food in one sitting.”
My aunt raised her hands in despair, the colour draining from her rosy cheeks.
“What will I tell your mother?” she wailed, clawing at her hair.
“Mum already knows.”
“But what…” gasped my aunt, “will you eat?”
“That fish,” Bea grabbed my arm, “it’s still… breathing!”
I spluttered as my gaze rested on the platter where the freshly gutted fish was taking its last gasps of air.
It was skewered to our sashimi plate, head attached to the bones and tail. A decorative array of thinly sliced fish pieces surrounded it on the wooden boat platter.
New Zealand 2008
New Zealand 2006
United Kingdom 2004
Athens Olympics 2004
Beijing to Athens 1994
I acknowledge the traditional Custodians of the land on which I work and live, the Gubbi Gubbi / Kabi Kabi and Joondoburri people, and recognise their continuing connection to land, the waters and sky. I pay my respect to them and their cultures; and to Elders past, present and emerging.
© 2023 HARI KOTROTSIOS