Karis was looking out the upstairs window, and she told me that the neighbor was saying something she couldn't understand. I went down to see her.
I couldn't get most of the words, but the next thing I know, her 18 year old daughter was coming out of the gate with a bowl FULL of rice. The mother was asking if four cups was okay. I said, "Oh no! Two cups are good." She laughed and said, "No, five is good." And she sent the daughter over.
Once in the kitchen, she asked for hot water. We boiled some, and then she soaked the rice, although I did limit her to TWO cups. Then she said something about "30 minutes," and she left.
Forty-five minutes later, the 18 year old returned with her mother, her sister-in-law, and another lady that lives in their home.
The mother sat on the carpet and started peeling and cutting vegetables that she brought, and her daughter-in-law took over the rice, draining it, and getting it ready to cook.
Apparently, my pots weren't the right size; I didn't have the correct rice drainer; my oil and salt weren't like the ones they were used to, but Kylie made a quick trip to the neighborhood grocery store and picked up a few needed things, and we were good to go. (Note: By the way, I have since been to the market and gotten the right pots and rice drainer).
They got busy cooking, and I got busy writing down what everyone was doing and adding.
The mother told me the daughter-in-law didn't add enough salt to the rice, so it didn't taste right, but it was pretty good to me. The mother also told the others in the room how I only wanted two cups of rice instead of four, and they all had a good laugh.
At the same time, while all the cooking was going on, three neighborhood girls were dressing up like princesses in the front room with Keira. It was a busy, fun afternoon. Kylie and I had learned most of our kitchen words by this time, so we actually understood a lot that was going on and could communicate a little on our own, and that made it even nicer.