A Table for One

Mia walked into the small restaurant just before nine. The dining room was almost empty. A waiter with a white apron and tired eyes pointed at a corner table.

Mia aliingia katika mkahawa mdogo dakika chache kabla ya saa tisa. Chumba cha chakula kilikuwa tupu hasa. Mhudumu aliyevaa aproni nyeupe na macho yaliyochoka alionyesha meza ya pembeni.

"Just one?" he asked. Mia nodded. She always traveled alone, and she always felt a little nervous ordering in a new language. The menu was on a single sheet of paper, handwritten.

"Mtu mmoja tu?" aliuliza. Mia aliikuna kichwa. Daima alisafiri peke yake, na daima alihisi wasiwasi kidogo wakati wa kuagiza chakula kwa lugha mpya. Menyu ilikuwa kwenye karatasi moja tu, iliyoandikwa kwa mkono.

She pointed at a word she did not understand. The waiter smiled for the first time. "Is the special of the day," he said in slow English. "My grandmother's recipe. Try it. If you don't like it, I bring something else."

Alionyesha neno ambalo hakulielewa. Mhudumu alitabasamu kwa mara ya kwanza. "Ni chakula maalum cha leo," alisema kwa Kiingereza polepole. "Mapishi ya nyanya yangu. Jaribu. Ukisipenda, nitaleta kingine."

The food arrived in a heavy clay bowl. Hot, garlicky, full of small pieces of bread. Mia took a careful first spoonful and looked up. The waiter was watching from the bar with his arms crossed.

Chakula kilifika katika bakuli la udongo nzito. Kilikuwa moto, kina ladha ya kitunguu saumu, kimejaa vipande vidogo vya mkate. Mia alichukua kijiko cha kwanza kwa tahadhari na akaangalia juu. Mhudumu alikuwa akimtazama kutoka baa, mikono yake imekunjwa.

She gave him a thumbs up. He laughed, walked over, and refilled her glass. "Good," he said. "Tomorrow you come back and I tell you what's in it."

Alimpa kidole gumba juu. Akacheka, akaja karibu, na akajaza glasi yake tena. "Vizuri," alisema. "Kesho urudi na nitakuambia kilicho ndani yake."