Sima is the staple food of Malawi. It’s stone milled maize. I describe it as dehydrated corn. This maize is milled, and, when the resulting maize meal is boiled, out comes sima. I think I’m over simplifying that process, but that’s ok. The final product is semi-solid, white in color, odorless in smell, and tasteless in flavor.  It’s very much loved among the Malawian people, so much in fact, its printed on the Malawian currency.

Sima is combined with what they call relish. It’s usually beans, and something green, like cabbage or banana leaves. If money is good, maybe they will add a little beef or chicken on the side. All in all it’s not bad; I’ve tried it, and it’s really not bad. They use the sima like bread to scoop up the relish and eat the two things together, with their hands of course. This is how I ate it as well.

Malawians eat it every day of their lives, and not just once, every meal, of every day, of their entire lives! Every shop sells it, every farmer grows it, and every man, woman, and child eats it. One thing they don’t do is get tired of it. The mere suggestion of eating something else gets you a look like, “What!? Eat something else?!” It would be like eating the best steak on the planet every day of your life and then someone saying, “I found this great new food; it’s called chicken.” Imagine the look on your face, and that’s the look.

I can only imagine one reason Malawians love it so much: they are attached to it in a sentimental way. Before you judge, sentimental attachments are in all of our lives. Maybe it’s the kid who brings his blanket to school until he’s twenty-seven, or a girl who loves her dolls, or even turkey and football on Thanksgiving.  Coffee? That would be mine. In this context, I suppose it’s even possible to be attached to sima.

I pictured a young Malawian boy whose first memories in life are not the best ones. He doesn’t know he is poor, but he knows life is difficult for his parents and family. Maybe his mom and dad fight, maybe worse, or maybe they just don’t have anything to be happy about. There is very little money, just enough for that day’s necessities. He looks around his world with sadness in his heart. When dinnertime rolls around, the pit of his stomach is empty so he finds a dark little corner of the house to sit, and he waits. His mom brings him a small plate of sima with a little relish, and it’s the only comfort he has in the world. When I looked at this picture, I understood why they love it so much and didn’t want anything else but sima.

I’m reminded today of how much Christ is our Comforter. He’s not comforting our stomachs but our souls. He is restoring our minds, healing our emotions, and giving purpose to our wills. The beautiful thing is that man need not live by sima only but also by the word of God, the Great Comforter.