Stories
The memories, moments, and meaning behind the meals
Living with My Cousin
After we lost our parents, Salma and I were separated. Living with my cousin was the hardest — scholarship applications, learning to clean and cook, working between school, and watching Salma get expelled until she finally seemed to figure things out.
A Day Later
Salma was with Mum when she died. I was in boarding school and didn't hear until a day later. After the burial Salma wouldn't go home — and when Dad died, it was just the two of us in the hospital.
Thirty Days
My parents died when I was fifteen — thirty days apart. Salma took it the hardest.
Through the Ceiling
My parents never fought around us — until the night Mum locked the door and Dad climbed through the ceiling to get back to her.
My Parents' Love
We grew up thinking Valentine's Day was a public holiday. In Uganda, public affection was frowned upon — but my parents didn't care.
My Sister Salma
Salma stirred up trouble and I somehow took the blame — we used to joke one of us was adopted. We both loved the kitchen anyway, just in completely different ways.
Chapati and Rolex
Soft flatbread from our Buziga kitchen, and the rolled-egg street snack — onion and tomato omelette wrapped in chapati — that taught me Uganda's best food doesn't always need a table.
Growing Up in Uganda
Buziga, my sister Salma, Friday folk tales from my dad, and the matooke and luwombo that still taste like home.
My First Kitchen Memory
Standing on a step stool at my grandmother's counter, covered in flour, learning that cooking is really just another way of saying I love you.
Why I Cook
It's not about perfection. It's about showing up — for yourself and for the people around your table.