Reclaiming the magic of our food

Culture Matters

DARA E HEALY

I GREW UP with stories of my grandmother creating magical dishes over a coal pot. As a child, it was normal to have freshly baked bread for dinner and a cup of mama tea as we called the tea that granny liked, made with milk and oodles of sugar. Food became associated with survival and safe spaces.

My story is no doubt familiar; building a relationship with food founded on trust and love. In TT, food is also a complex representation of our multi-layered society. To a large extent, what we eat is linked to historical, ethnic and religious influences. The notion of community is also important. It is part of how we establish social identity, “that part of an individual's self-concept which derives from...membership of a social group (or groups), together with the value and emotional significance attached to that membership.”

Today we observe World Food Day in an era where our relationship with food has grown considerably more difficult. Humans waste about one-third of all of the food that is produced every year, more than a billion tons. At the other end of the scale are the energy, labour and other resources that were expended to create the food in the first place. At home, obesity is cited as one of the main causes of increased vulnerability to covid19. We have developed a dysfunctional relationship with food and our bodies are struggling to cope.

Covid19 forced another shift in how we connected to food. In the early stages of the pandemic we found it enjoyable, maybe amusing, to create kitchen gardens. People cooked at home and once again there were rumblings about boosting the agriculture sector. The reality is we are two or three generations away from the connectedness to the land that we once experienced. Over the years, we did not encourage gardens in schools or the notion of healthy eating, nor did we promote the value of food to developing communities.

Post-independence erosion of social identity did not only present itself in the form of mass media. Instead of bhagi and sada, we preferred Fruit Loops, instead of mangoes, apples. And instead of...well, practically everything else, we choose chicken and chips. Of course, I am exaggerating to make a point, but since this country recently spent over $70 million per year on the importation of lobster, grapes, strawberries and other so-called luxury items, my observations are not actually that outrageous.

Certainly, this problem of food choice is rooted in the discussion about social identity. Generations have been deprived the sweetness of balata, the unique flavour of tonca bean and the complex flavours of a sapodilla. Many of our local fruits such as dongs, mamey sapote or caimite I have only read about in books or heard elders reminiscing about them. How may we develop a new relationship with food? One that is not shrouded by enslavement and indentureship or distorted by colonialism? Can we establish a new synergy with our history?

The global debate about food asks similar questions. The migration and resettlement of vast numbers of people have permanently shifted cultural food borders. Climate change has already disrupted weather systems, causing entire regions to turn into deserts or be devastated by floods. The pandemic has deepened inequality and intensified poverty. These shifts are visible in TT as farmers lose their livelihood through severe flooding and food prices continue to outstrip income.

The interconnectedness of life shows that even our food choices impact biodiversity and the integrity of our land. Obesity and other non-communicable diseases make us more susceptible to infection and put our health system and financial resources under greater strain. Our food story does not have to go back to the coal pot, but it must be revisioned.

This week, we paid respects to our indigenous peoples who continue to agitate for inclusion in our national social identity. Ancient cultures lived in harmony with the earth, consuming, planting and replenishing at the same time. To envisage a better food future, we must learn from their practices and implement them across our education and business sectors. Simple changes are possible, such as mandating new construction to include the planting of trees.

Memories of my grandmother’s work-weary hands are still strong, vivid in tone and colour. She had little, but made magic because the survival of her family depended on it. It has been an important lesson for me. It should be the mantra for our new magical relationship with food.

Dara E Healy is a performance artist and founder of the Indigenous Creative Arts Network – ICAN