The Great African Cheese Hunt

I have no cheese.

Okay - I can get cheese, but it's horrendous quality and it is expensive enough that the trade-off for scratching the cheese itch turns out to be somewhere in the neighborhood of cheese or children going to college.

Not worth it.  I did buy some Gouda once.  We made grilled cheese sandwiches we didn't even finish.  Me - not finishing a grilled cheese sandwich!  Truly the end is nigh!

Anyway, we heard of a local store that sells cheese, pasta, and imported salami (another thing we haven't had since we've been here is sandwich meat.  The local offerings are things we are not brave enough to try) and set off with our driver yesterday to find it.

The directions were typically African - on such-and-such a road, by this other road.  That is pretty much how you find anything here, although there are street addresses.

Needless to say, this provides some issues when searching out a place you've never been.  Lucky for us, most places Muzungus go are in walled compounds that have advertisements and signs painted on the walls.  It's actually really interesting, and since I'm a landmark-oriented directions person, it's easier for me to get used to the lay of the city.

After about half an hour of searching and a phone call to The Husband which uncovered a local number that was disconnected, we figured that the place - our last great cheese hope - had closed.

I was a sad panda.  *ahem*

Then, in typically African fashion, our driver told me that he had an idea if I had some time to spare.  We had already accomplished the rest of our checklist, so we headed off to a place he thought might have information about cheese.

We ended up in a rather tony office complex, where the driver parked the car.

"Try in here," he said.

"Malinga, this is an office supply store,"  I responded.

"Yes, but the owner - he is a farmer.  He might also sell cheese."

Surly Daughter and Evil Blond Child were in the back seat of the car, and Surly broke into gales of laughter.  The thing is, this is Africa.  It is absolutely within the realm of possibility that an office supply store also sells cheese.  So, deciding to trust Malinga, we headed in.

The receptionist greeted us as we came in, and I haltingly (because this was more than a little embarrassing) asked about cheese.

She looked at me like I had lost my mind.

"What?"

"Cheese.  My driver said that the person who owns this store also has a farm."

"Yes, he does."

"Well, I was wondering if he sells cheese."

The receptionist obviously didn't know what to make of me, but I was at the point of no return.  We were going to find out if this farmer made cheese if I had to stand there all day.  And besides, there were macadamia nuts on the counter that the farmer had grown.  If an office supply store was selling home-grown macadamia nuts, surely it might also sell cheese.

The receptionist agreed to phone another girl in the complex who handled the farm accounts.  Sadly, she confirmed that the farmer did not produce cheese.  We headed out to the car to report back to Malinga that the office supply farmer did not produce cheese.

"Well," he said, "we will try another place."

So we did.  And we eventually found the city office for Chaminuka, a local game preserve that also boasts a dairy barn.  However, Chaminuka only sells cheese in 2 KG blocks, and you need to order five of them at a time.  At that point I was done.  I thanked Malinga for finding the Chaminuka office for us and told him that when we needed cheese we could definitely use this place.  Then we set off back to our guest house.

Thus ended the Great African Cheese Hunt.