One day, after our parents had split, we were at mum’s about to eat before returning to what we called ‘limbo’. Yes, that is what our father’s house had become to us especially since he got married to this other woman who wouldn’t let us touch ‘her things’ (fridge, pans, spoons, just name it). It was then during that meal, a sumptuous one of different dishes, that my brother coined the term ‘last supper’.
On that particular day, a Saturday which I very well remember, the fun was that it wasn’t even in the evening. We had just returned from some shopping and I had insisted we go into a photo studio and take the above picture. We had our ‘last supper’ and returned to ‘limbo’ with some more foodstuffs which I would cook on the stove we had in our room.
Our meals in ‘limbo’ very often consisted of rice and whatever. There is no doubt I think that rice up to this date is my favorite dish , just like he wrote in his journal it was his. In short, I must have his rice cooker whatever it takes.
And so, each time we were having a delicious meal, we would joke that it is our ‘last supper’.
Yes, and sadly so, when my brother started living and toiling on his own, his cooking abilities were eventually limited to doing rice in his cooker and mixing ketchup and water in a large sauce pan. He would eat only that day in day out, as many times a day as the side effects of his meds urged him to appease ‘hunger’.
Mum got him to send her a picture of what he was going to have for supper on the eve of his death. She had been there recently and did cook lots of stuff and leave with him. He had maybe eaten all by then and so this is the picture he sent her: