Ethiopia, by Way of the Mess

Tuesday is goulash day. This is a law of the ship, older than Marco, possibly older than the lathe. Today Elena broke it.

There was a small sign taped to the galley hatch at lunch. It read: "No goulash. Goulash is resting." Several of the older crew looked genuinely shaken. Big Kev read it twice and went very quiet.

The reveal

Dinner was Ethiopian. Elena's around the world menu has now taken us through Brazil, Mexico, Korea, Greece, India, and somewhere she described only as "my auntie's house", and tonight it reached the Horn of Africa.

She brought out one enormous round tray for each table, lined with injera, the soft spongy flatbread that is also your plate, your cutlery, and your napkin. On top, in neat circles, were the stews. A deep red one with lamb. A yellow split pea one. Lentils, spinach, a bright tomato salad, spiced cabbage and carrot, and a boiled egg sitting in the middle of the darkest, richest sauce of all, like a crown.

"No forks," said Elena. "Tear, scoop, eat. If you ask for a fork you get goulash next Tuesday and the Tuesday after."

Nobody asked for a fork.

Technique

There is a technique, and I did not have it. My first attempts produced a lot of torn bread and very little stew. My second attempt produced stew on my sleeve.

Big Kev, it turned out, has eaten Ethiopian food in Djibouti, in a café near the port, every year for eleven years, and has a technique he described as "scoop, pinch, commit". He demonstrated. He is six foot four and has hands like shovels, and he ate with a delicacy I had not imagined possible. Marco filmed this. Kev let him, which tells you how happy he was.

The warning

About halfway through I paused over a dark, glossy stew I had not yet tried. Elena was passing, and without stopping, she said, "Not that one. That one has eggplant."

I thanked her. I meant it more sincerely than anything I have said in weeks.

She has, I realise, been quietly keeping a list. I think every person on this ship is on it. I think my entry is short and mostly about aubergine and pie.

After

Coffee came in small cups, very strong, with a little popcorn on the side, which Elena explained is traditional at an Ethiopian coffee ceremony. Marco attempted to perform the coffee ceremony for a video and was gently removed from the galley.

I sat out on the deck afterwards with my sleeve rolled up to hide the stain. The sun went down orange and enormous through the haze. Container came and sat with me and smelled my fingers with great interest, which is the opposite of her reaction to brass.

Tomorrow is Wednesday, which means trivia. The Starboard Minds have been training, by which I mean Tiny has been asking me questions about cars and Yuki has been building a spreadsheet of likely topics. I have been eating stew.