My Indigenous New Year Resolution

Lee Kwan Yù once commented about the quality of leaders in a country. He suggested that a country should be led by its smartest members and that they should be honest , transparent and paid according to fair market rates. He ended with the warning that electing those that seem cheap leads to cheap and corrupt government. I would loudly make the same arguments about friends. 

I therefore celebrate all those who have been honest and transparent in friendship.  I am most grateful for those who helped me be a better human being. Those with whom I collaborated with to turn nice ideas into reality are especially dear to my heart. Family is a private matter and no one has much choice about that. That means that good to and from them is nothing special to front in public. Community and friends have the biggest dividends in terms of social outcomes. Families that elect leaders simply because they are blood relatives or have the same skin color have been responsible for much suffering. 

 It may sound contradictory but we are genetically wired to love our own family over and above everyone else. Learning to tame that love for family for the sake of others is where we have the most struggle. 

A breakdown of family has a lot to do with the community and the philosophy that governs that community more than anything else. 

Formerly enslaved or colonized people find it too hard to have healthy relationships regardless of how wealthy they might be.  That is just a fact. America, South Africa, Israel  and Brazil are interesting case studies.  I specifically chose those communities for their contrast between the indigenous people who lived there before the current inhabitants. Those countries have great inequalities that threaten to tear them apart. Yet the same countries boast some of the most resilient indigenous people whose cultures have lasted for thousands of years of sustainable existence. 

There are many selfless people in all three countries who have continued to support justice for people suffocating from legally sanctioned oppression.  The actions of such outsiders can bring about radical changes in any country. 

As I start the new season, I am mindful of my duty to community and friends. I salute all who have supported me in my endeavors and offer my solidarity with those sitting on the fence. May we all find strength to do that which is right even when it is not comfortable. 

Saying happy new year to me is one thing, doing it another. Steve Biko, Edward Said, John Brown and Carlos Mariategui immediately come to mind as folks who have set great examples of taking responsibility. Making this year the year of responsibility. For that, I am willing to pay fair market rates to bring that dream to reality. But the first down-payment is holding myself responsible to those principles. 

Kagùrani : Gìkuyù Indigenous Cosmos & Food

I am humbled by Judi Shils invitation to give the Keynote address at the Harvest Gala for Turning Green in Marin County in California. Shils is the executive director of Turning Green, a non-profit based in Marin County California that has earned a lot of accolades for pushing organic food in the local public schools. I first heard of the organization a while back after and was amazed to learn of their program that lasted for two straight years of offering organic food to the public schools in one school district. Little did I know that I would be working with them.

Shils also requested to create the main course for the event as a collaborative effort with some of the top chefs in the area. The list of chefs I will be working with are Dolores Coleman of Dee's Organic Kitchen; Mike Garcia, the executive chef of Cavallo Point Lodge, Daniel Tellez of South Lot Oxbow; Omar Huerta of Calavera Restaurant; Ashley Ugarte of Dandelion Restaurant.

There are several other reasons I found the whole story of Marin County interesting. One is Judi Shils concept of a Conscious Kitchen. For the first time, I will be preparing Afro Futuristic Conscious Cuisine in a Conscious Kitchen.

Secondly the area has a history of racial and food injustice tied to the policies of the U.S government and war. The government lured many Southern Blacks to the area with promises of gainful employment and living conditions around the shipping container industry during the Second European war, otherwise known as WWII. The government reneged on it's promises and the Black Southerns found them living in segregated substandard conditions and earning low wages.

The project was abandoned following the end of the war. My dinner will be a tribute to all those families whose hopes were dashed due to expediency. Its upon those shoulders that we will build a new alliance in a different type of war: food justice, climate change and racism. The team will include African descent, Latin X and Caucasian.

BLOOD POTATOES

When I learned more about the Potato Famine of 1845 in Ireland, it made think about the history of my village and the South American tuber.  The story of how the tuber left those shores and found its way to Europe is a story drenched in blood.

The first conquistadors came with a double edged sword of conversation of the indigenous people, along with their lands and culture into servants of the Vatican and the European nations that staked claims to various parts of that region. The other side of the sword was geared towards the accumulation of silver and gold. 

I can make the case that the handle of that sword was food. Many types of food found their way back into Europe and eventually to the rest of the world. Many things have changed ever since but the destructive spirit in which the food exchange seems to haunt the global food system. Some of the foods that the various came from South America from the Incas and the Aztecs are major contributors of Climate Change. Amongst those crops are corn and potatoes. 

Much has been written about the impact of corn on the global climate on one hand and on the climate of our health. To raise two of the primary issues with corn, consider the fact the corn is amongst three of the top GMO crops. That means that more Roundup and other pesticides is used on corn that almost any other crop. Secondly, the issue of diabetes due to consumption of cheap calories and sugar made from corn is a major global health problem. 

How do potatoes fair in the above ranking? The answer is a bit complex. What I can say is that the potato has made more people French than the number of French people in the world.  French fries and their arc enemies , Chips (as fries are known in regions formerly colonized by Britain) are almost as ubiquitous as corn. 

The growing of 3 types of potatoes caused a famine in Ireland which led to the death of over 1 million people, followinga potato blight. Bolivia was faced by the same potato blight but with over 500 types of potatoes, the didn't experience any famine.

These two common foods acquired unjustly might be inflicting revenge? Food justice is real and it has no statute of limitation.

KUPA KUTENDA

My connections to Zimbabwe keep growing from year to year. This interesting development is deeply connected to music, books and food. Last year,  Makhosi KaMahlangu invited me to write a preface to a book entitled African Food Revolution.  I was immediately drawn music of my youth.

I had been struggling my privious grades but 1980 marked the year of a rebound. I was truly on survival mode. But Survival just happened to be a hit song by an international rasing star known as Bob Marley.  The other song  on the vinyl record was a song entitled Zimbabwe. 

I obviously didn't know the significance of both songs at the time. As I would later find out, the song Zimbabwe had been composed and performed at the independence celebration of the country Zimbabwe.  The song started with a section of a speech by the late Haile Selassie, head of state of Ethiopia, given at the League of Nations. Ethiopia was dealing with Italian occupation at the time. 

 It Was another 5 years before we added a second Bob's record in the form of a cassette untitled Uprising. Two of my favorite songs from that record were Coming In From the Cold and Redemption Song.

When my brother, Mhoze Chikowero gifted me a copy of his book entitled African Music, Power, and Being in Colonial Zimbambwe, I knew I was in for a treat. It's a great joy to be able to connect with this African scholar through his writing.  Then I read the first chapter and I was deeply touched by the deep connections he makes between music and power. It's now abundantly clear that we are all in the midst of a great  Uprising of our Indigenous Consciousness. The Indigenous cultural elements that survived colonial and religious onslaught are forming a solid foundation. 

In my memory, Zimbabwe is a word that has been tied to music and struggle.  The future doesn't look any different but now includes food and books. Like three bearded sisters, food, books and music have all been instrumental in the struggle for justice. That is why I say Kupa Kutenda to those three siblings.

FLAVOR AS AN ANCESTRAL FLAG

My two aunts, Wanja and Njoki, were the queens of Mùraru bananas. Muraru bananas were a popular type of banana that doesn't change color even when it ripens. These bananas have  a lovely sweet, floral taste, with a hint of cinnamon.

 My two auts have were a centrifugal force that kept me a float. Looked another way, It was as if I was the equator and aunt Wanja was the "North Pole", while aunt Njoki was the “South Pole".  Life revolved around a central axis with these women on the outer edges. Interesingly, Aunt Wanja lived 30 minutes east of us while aunt Njoki lived 30 minutes west.

 Technically, Njoki was my grandmother as she was a sister to my grandmother.  Whatever we called her didn't matter. What mattered was the unconditional love I felt around Njoki. She didn't only love but she was a master of demonstrating that love. I didn't have to guess and she didn't need to verbally tell me how she loved me. Love was like a soundtrack of her existence.  

Wanja was the middle of my father’s three sisters and  was more like my second mother to me. I felt right at home anytime I went to her home

As fate would have it, aunt Njoki would eventually lose her sight and move into our home. Consequently, my mother was dealing with mental illness at the same time. On one hand, one can imagine two sick ladies in our home and the challenges that represents. And yet nothing could be further from reality. Having my aunt at our home greatly enriched our home and brought so much joy that it overshadowed the pain of their illness.  Since aunt Njoki had all her faculties besides her sight, she filled her home with interesting stories and wisdom. In many ways, she filled the void left by my ill mother. 

One thing bound those two women together was their mastery and cultivation of Mùraru bananas. I can't remember one time that I went to either the "North Pole" or the "'South Pole" and did not eat Mùraru bananas.

Aunt Njoki passed on in the late 80s while Aunt Wanja passed away in the late 90s. I attended both of their last rights. Ever since, I have never tasted a Mùraru banana that didn't remind me of the two luminaries.  The Mùraru flavor is a flag of our imaginary planet that forever resides in my head. This flag is hoisted every time I taste a Mùraru banana. In Mùraru, I unite  with my wonderful ancestors really never left us as they are neatly nestled in my taste buds.

Reflection on Food, Labour and Racism

A Congo Watermelon from David's & Kasey's farm in Snow Camp got me thinking about racism and food. After all it was Labor Day and therefore a great time to reflect on historical product of labour in the South: food and racism. The name Congo and the watermelon have interesting historical connections in the South.

I once visited Louisiana and one of the places I toured was the historic Congo Square. That was a location that the local enslaved Africans assembled on Sundays or during the holidays to play music and entertain themselves. Many believe that some the rhythms first played at Congo Square later found their way into what later become jazz music. But jazz music is not the only music that was influenced by the rhythms of Congo Square. Many of musical genre like Blues were also polinated by the musical pollen from Congo Square.

What's interesting is how Watermelon was negatively used in creating minstrel images portraying people of African origin as dumb.. It's weird that the consumption of local organic fruits could be used negatively by depicting Africans as uncultured or greedy.

As I sat outside the Ward family, listening to our children playing in the backyard, I allowed my mind to wonder. For some reason, my mind stayed on Congo Square. It is a place I had seen with my eyes and can even remember how I first felt as I listened to the story of Congo Square and the modern rhythms thriving there to this day.

Those rhythms sounded like spiritual rings connecting us to the past history of struggle and triumph. It's highly likely that many of the original Congo Square attendees were adherents of African spirituality known as Voodoo. That form of spirituality was even more widespread and popular in the Caribbean countries such as Haiti, Cuba, Jamaica and even amongst the Brazilian African population.

That was then, and yet that past is still haunting us. I could still pick musical nuances in our conversation between a Jamaican, European and a Kenya who could have passed for a Congo in the past. It was labor day and the best time to recognize that our history of labour in this country is dirty and needs cleaning.

We can see the consequences of that dirty history in the recent spate of online debate following the words of Ted Cruz, Republication senetor from Texas, when he urged the 8.4 million unemployed workers to apply for the 10 million jobs that are unfilled. Why would unemployed people opt not to apply for the available jobs if the labour industry was clean and honest? It depends on who you ask. What I know for sure is things are not going well.

Bob Marley's message of positive vibration is a good place to start. Our sharing a meal together and discussing the sensitive openly is a positive thing for all involved.

As my family and I left farm with our bellys full of Watermelon juice, I could feel the natural mystic flowing through the air. The further way we went from the farm it downed on me that I was leaving one bubble and heading home into another bubble. There is still too much trouble in the world. Survival is the name of the game outside those bubbles. Bob Marley's song, Survival, described that reality back in tbe 80s. These words from that record sounds the same warnings now as it did then. Those words were " scientific Atrocity, atomic misphilosophy and nuclear misenergy".

They should be a warning to all of us and be another reason to fight against racism, labor and food injustice. We dont have time to waste.

Tasting and Hearing Heritage Flavors

My children and I visited my friend David Ward and his family at their wonderful farm in Snow Camp. Our visit was initially planned to last an hour turned into a four hour farm tour.

I am finding that just learning about the stories of those who farm is just as interesting as the food they grow. David is a southerner while his wife, kasey, is Jamaican and the two cultures combine to create an interesting food culture. We talked about music, food, spices and fruits. We grilled okra and dear meat while the children ran around the yard and feed the goats.

Their interest is in unique and rare fruits. One of my favorite type of the rare watermelons he shared with me is called strawberry watermelon. I identified another 9 different types of mellons and 22 different tpes of fruits. Each watermelon had it's own flavorI. Commercial fruit growers have tended to concentrate on just a two or three types of watermelons for convenience. It was a great feeling to see so many heritage breeds of seeds gaining popularity. Each type of watermelon had it's own stories too.

What a great way to grow our food literacy through the stories of our seeds. In other words, in planting seeds, we are also planting history and stories of how that history came about. Here is a way of tasting different flavors and hearing history. It was a lovely day.

THE SEASON OF REASON

Porini Sanctuary is neatly nestled in a beautiful scenic and serene habitat a few kilometres from Nanyuki town. From the Sanctuary one has breathtaking views of the Ol Daiga Hills and Mt Kenya. I was introduced to the Sanctuary and her owner Madam Wanjiku by a Kenyan Social Justice activist Veteran Al Amin Kimathi. I was curious about the place from how he described it and the vision Madam Wanjiku, a naturalist, had implemented. The Sanctuary sounded like a haven of indigenous species and concepts. If I had any doubt, the explanation of the kind of kitchen and the AirbnB part of the story greatly appealed to me and it sealed the deal of one of the must-visit spaces. My plan was to spend a few nights there as I toured some of the most interesting food places in Nanyuki. The Porini Sanctuary is located in a village named Mwìreri, which in Gìkùyù means one who raises or takes care of himself. It turned out that starting my Kenya21 Food Tour at Porini was a wise decision. It was the only time I relaxed and spent time with other social activists without much serious work besides a lot of sharing and light cooking using the herbs grown near the outside kitchen. 

Even before I left, I knew that Porini was going to be added to the small list of places I call home. The connection wasn't just geographical but also biological and ideological. I am glad that my culture has a provision for one to be "born" into another family through certain cultural rites. A major part of that rite is food. The two days I spent at Porini left an indelible mark in my heart. The hospitality and the conversations around the outside kitchen are a testament to the instant connection to the host and the space. 

The main building has a medium-sized but comfortable lobby, with books and dim light that ensures that one does not get the crazy idea of reading indoors. Around the lobby are four huge rooms that have no ceiling. That means that air circulation is privatized over privacy. That too prioritized rest over conversations while inside. For those reasons, amongst others, I found that my stay had an already engineered balance between the time I spent inside and outside. 

The outside kitchen is spacious and oddly stocked with mismatched cutlery that included expensive brands and common brands. A traditional fireplace was complemented by antique guards and a type of chirping birds whose nest I raided in my childhood days. 

The inside of the main house reminded me of the house of my childhood, though the rooms in my childhood house were much smaller. Once I was 14, I left the main house as was the tradition for boys and moved to a room detached from the main house. I hadn't thought much about the architecture of my childhood house until I visited Porini, which is a phenomenal round traditional, yet modern hut, roofed with the traditional makuti which Wanjiku explained were brought in from Lake Victoria, which is in the Western Part of the Country. The grandeur of the beautiful Makuti is as picturesque from the outside as well as from the inside. 

I haven't even talked about the meditation room at the end of a walkway connecting the main house to a two storey natural building with one room on each floor. The bottom is a kitchen and the top is a meditation room. A whole chapter is needed to cover the amazing compound, filled with indigenous plants and a few books to cover the knowledge of Wanjikù, my fictive sister and the spirit behind Porini. Her multilingual indigenous knowledge is dope! Wanjiru's razzmatazz in her identification of indigenous trees, flowers, birds, medicinal benefits of many of those plants and even the ecological benefits of many of them left all of us amazed. She even knew the names in both Maasai and Gìkùyù. Her wide travels and times spent in faraway places with shamans in the Amazon and the Sangomas of Southern Africa juxtaposed with her university training both in Kenya and abroad gave her unraveled depth in indigenous matters. We were in for a ride. Yet my ride was a special one. First it was special in that Wanjiku honored me by serenading me with her wisdom. On top of that, she proposed that we become a family, but in an indigenous way. She gave me three wonderful gifts, an old beaded traditional stool, a matching whisk and a small clay pot. I could never fully repay such a kindness, which now meant that we were now connected by three unbreakable bonds. Since she couldn't culturally do it, she asked elder-activist Al Amin to install me on the stool as the protector and promoter of indigenous flavors. My newly assigned role was to name that position and define it further.

That weekend definitely set in motion a revitalized drive to pursue my goal for a more transformative work and relationships ahead. My get-away ended up carrying me home, a home with no ceiling, but enough room and love for all who are loving and loveable.

I left Porini Sanctuary, rested but well aware of the tremendously task ahead and the great allies besides me. My first proposal under the powers vested in me by the sages of Porini is to amend the name of the village from Mwireri ,which is singular, to Ereri, which is plural. But again, all that might not be necessary, we all can simply join the movement to preserve our indigenous heritage and thrive in it. A lot of our global problems stem from our relationship with our indigenous past. Let's Heal it and Heal ourselves. 

In the meantime, I will consult the dream world about the name of the new seat as first holder of that most sacred position.

Porini Sanctuary, is a great example of the serious indigenous nodes in Kenya. Connect with it or any other such places near you, may just bring you as much rejuvenation as it did for me. If there are no such places, I now have the authority to deputize you to create one such rich space in celebration of our interconnectedness as humanity. In the same breath, I pour a libation to Porini and Lady Wanjikù for being an embodiment of a season of reason to end treason

Here is one my favourite links to Porini Sanctuary, with a beautiful traditional horn player speaking to your soul as you tour the serene abode. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JIPNjghfL0U&t=121s

FB: https://m.facebook.com/PORINI.Sanctuary/?refsrc=deprecated&ref=104&_rdr#_=_