Until I was about 12, I was an extremely picky eater. As a young
child, especially, I made meal time a challenge. My parents were patient, yet
persistent, as were my other caregivers. One of my babysitters’ husbands was a
police officer who usually ate lunch with me during the week, he, too, took on
this patient, yet persistent attitude with mealtime. His mantra for me at
lunchtime was, “Mangia, Bella!” Italian for “Eat, little girl!” (more or less).
My Irish family adopted it as an encouraging mealtime mantra, and eventually I
became more adventurous and enjoyed a variety of foods. For the first decade,
though, it was a challenge.
What does this have to do with Tanzania? Well, for one thing, I’m
trying new foods all the time here and enjoying them: from chapati, to coconut
peas, to ugali, to ndizi (a savory banana-based dish). Where the real learning
happens, though, is in the food preparation. Since I am living here for two
years, and not just visiting for a few weeks, I have been learning how to buy,
prepare, cook and eat food here in Tanzania. I’ve had several lessons with a
host family with whom I stayed for three days, and other neighbors in Mabibo as
well as the 2nd year JVs. Meal
preparations are time consuming. By the time we finish breakfast, it’s time to
start preparing for lunch- food is bought fresh each day, for each meal, from
the local vegetable stand or duka (a small shop selling anything from rice to
laundry detergent to cell phone minutes).
Availability of food is based entirely on the season, so whereas in my
local Key Food in Stewart Manor, I can buy Strawberries in February, Avocados
in November, Blueberries in March, here in Mabibo, if it doesn’t grow here and
is not in season, it’s not just a bit more expensive, you can’t buy it. (For
more on food justice issues, pick up a Michael Pollan book at your local
library or research the local foods movement!)
Once you have bought the ingredients, you must begin prepping. In
order to avoid typhoid and the like, all skins must be removed from fruits and
vegetables, or they must be cooked for a few minutes on the stove/flame. Now,
in our home, we do have cutting boards and a semblance of a counter on which to cut and chop and a
stove top with two gas burners. Most homes, though, have neither stovetops nor
counters. Food prep is done in the shade outside (where it is cooler) with
women bent over on small stools and pots cooking on small kerosene powered
single flames. If you want to make a simple meal, let’s say, of rice, beans and
some veggies, you must begin by sorting the rice- looking for rocks, leaves,
bad pieces of rice, etc. Then you continue with sorting the beans- looking for
rocks, bugs, misshapen/diseased beans, then cleaning the dirt off, then soaking
them for an hour or so, before cooking them. Similar process with the veggies-
scrubbing dirt off, then, peeling, then chopping, then eventually cooking.
I share the details of this process, because they are important.
It’s important to paint this picture accurately, because if you start to add up
all of the different steps for just one meal, you can see how it becomes
necessary, or at least immensely more convenient, for one of the parents to
stay home. In Tanzanian society, it is the mother who stays home, and really it
makes sense in this context. It’s not to say that some women don’t work, there
are some who do, but those who do, usually have a house girl, a young woman,
probably around my age, who is charge of meal prep, child care and hand washing
the laundry. As JVs, though, we live in this interesting balance- we’re full
time teachers, but we’re also trying to live simply and in solidarity with our
neighbors, so we don’t have a house girl, nor should we, but people do wonder
why we don’t.
My privilege is constantly on mind, I am a 22 year old white
woman, with a college degree attempting to live in solidarity with my neighbors
in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. I work at a prestigious Jesuit high school, yet, I
wash my laundry by hand, we cook our own meals, clean our own house, burn our
own garbage, etc. I don’t know for sure, but I have a feeling our neighbors
have a lot of questions about our lifestyle. I’m sure I’ll be coming back to
this question in the future, but going back to my picky eating habits as a
child . . .
What I’ve noticed is that children are the same everywhere. And
that phrase, “Eat your food, there are starving children in Africa who would
eat it,” is just really silly (by the way, I don’t think my parents ever used
that tactic). Yes, there are hungry children in Africa, but there are hungry
children all over the world, and my guess is there are some much closer to your
home than in Africa. Henrieta, my 10 year old host sister, loves to eat chips
(french fries) and when they are served she hardly notices the rest of the food
her mother painstakingly prepared. Jay, my 4 year old host brother, spills his
mango juice and then runs to steal a sip from his older brother, then drops his
food on the floor. Danny, a 3 year old neighbor, drops food on the floor as he
eats and his mother cleans it up and tosses it outside for the animals to eat.
My nephew, while very careful for a 2 1/2 year old, spills things and makes
crumbs (especially when he eats a donut in the car . . . ehemm, Matt), his
cousin is a messier eater and just before I left, he stole some french fries
off my breakfast plate and I think Henrieta would have done the same if she was
sitting next to me at the Omega Diner!
So let’s not guilt ourselves or others into eating more, or less,
but rather become more appreciative for all of the hands and people (there are
many) which have been involved in bringing the food to our tables. Let us be
grateful for modern conveniences, such as refrigeration, and full functioning
kitchens which allow women the opportunity to work if they choose and men to be
involved in meal time preparations and clean-up. Let us be mindful of our
eating habits, but not obsessive.
