On the first full day of the Mother’s Union annual conference, and our second day in the desert village of Tsabong, I leave the assembly hall to stretch my legs. It’s late morning and a dozen or so of our hosts are preparing for the lunch crowd. Soon hundreds of people will be lining up under the mokha trees, plates in hands, waiting to be served generously sized portions of what we in the southern U.S. know as a “meat and three.” The food is prepared the traditional way: The fresh ingredients are prepped, cooked outside over open fires, then transferred to large containers which are set on rectangular tables. Serving is done cafeteria-style. It’s stunning to think this will happen three times a day every day for the next six days. When I say the food is fresh, I mean it’s really fresh. As I watch the apron-clad women work something across the clearing catches my eye. I walk closer. Hanging over a tree limb is… what? A hide? Yes, that’s what it is, and the cow’s tail is still attached. A man standing nearby explains in broken English and with gestures what has happened. I understand: Beef will soon join goat meat and chicken as a menu option. Later that afternoon some MU members and I head out in the Mother’s Union white van. We are looking for the village elder - a businessman - who donated the cow to help feed the multitude of conference goers. He’s a man on the move, but eventually we find him and thank him personally for his generosity.