Making bread. It sounds easy. Therapeutic even. My grandmas used to do it all the time. I thought it would be fun. Something to fill in the afternoon and surprise the family for the soup meal that night.
Oh, but when I first tried, it was a disaster. It was like a rock! Even the chooks turned up their beaks at it. Luckily, we had a loaf of bread from the supermarket in the deep freeze to rescue the day.
But, for Francine whom I met in Burundi, there was no bread. No options. I could try making bread for a leisure activity. For Francine, daily bread was a matter of fighting for survival.