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I can imagine restaurants built around South Indian upma, South African mealie pap or even Tibetan tsampa.

I don’t think I ever looked forward to eating cold mealie pap so much in my life.

Breakfast consisted of mealie pap porridge, cereal made from maize or corn, which the general prisoners would slop in a bowl and then spin through the bars of our cells.

We again received mealie pap porridge, sometimes with the odd carrot or piece of cabbage or beetroot thrown in — but one usually had to search for it.

At 3 P.M., more than twelve hours after most of us had arrived, we were delivered a container of thin mealie pap and no utensils.