One day, I decided it would be nice to have some honey. I asked around the villages, but everyone told me it wasn’t honey season yet.

Then one day I heard of someone who had some honey for sale. Taking Joel with me to translate, I went to the honey seller’s house. There on the floor was a basin full of honey and honey comb as raw as it gets, complete with immature bees and larvae.

We started to “do the market” as they call bargaining here. Back and forth we went for almost half an hour. Finally we settled on about 20 dollars for just over five gallons.

Then came the problem of how to carry all that sticky stuff home on my motorcycle. I had some plastic bags with me, so we carefully filled them, tied them closed, and put them in the rubberized bag I use to haul stuff on the motorcycle. The thing weighed about 40 lbs. Joel and I plopped it on the gas tank, and that’s where it rode for the 30 miles back to my house. The stickiness was a plus, keeping the bag in place as I navigated the bumpy gravel roads.

At home, I began the gooey job of separating the honey from the combs and larvae. I cut off the wax caps and propped the combs up over basins so the honey could run out. I set aside the larvae combs, knowing others would consider it a treat. Then I filtered the honey to get out all the chunks. I did the last round of filtering outside in the bed of my truck where the hot sun helped the honey flow faster.

The chickens enjoyed the bees, my neighbor was happy to receive the larvae comb, and I ended up with enough honey to last me a long time.

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