You Are What You Eat
Written by Naomi G.
For those who forget how the Earth provides, so they remember that each meal is a time to show care to the plants, yourself, and your legacy.
When I was younger, I was no stranger to getting sick every winter. I would wake up to the sound of my mother on the phone, telling my aunt about how I had just caught a cold. Soon, my mother's phone was buzzing, filled with messages from friends and family detailing what remedies she should give me.
With tissues stuck up my noses, I would groan when I would hear her shout from the kitchen, “Naomi vin bwe sa!” I knew that for the next few days, I would be drinking and eating all types of ingredients in combinations that I was not very fond of. But staying sick sounded much worse than a couple of cups of tea. So I found myself sitting at the very top of the dining room table, looking down at a potion said to cure all – or at least that's what my mom told me.
As I’ve gotten older, the routine has stayed the same. I get sick, my mom tells her friends, and soon I have tea, herbs, and soups. Younger me wouldn't admit it, but after a few days, I would be feeling better. Now, my mom has taught me how to make these remedies, and there's never much to it. It always involves ingredients that you can find in any market – garlic, onions, honey, lime, ginger, cloves, a series of herbs, and a spice or two.
Haitian culture is founded on their belief in natural remedies. Traditional medicine is what is most accessible to the people. With time, recipes are passed down and spread by word of mouth. The same ingredients used for these remedies are staples in our meals, filling our home with bright aromatics. Whether that is a soup joumou, squash soup with celery and carrots, or a bouillon, stew with plantains, spinach, and watercrest – each meal feels warm and homey. Though these meals can be time-consuming, they are still rather simple. The key to them is simply giving the ingredients time to marry and come together — nothing less, nothing more. In the end, it all just feels better.
Recently my hands have been covered in the scent of lime and honey, peels of garlic found on the table, remedies in my hand – but they're not for me, With each time my siblings get sick and I’m left to take care of them, I find that my face begins to resemble my mother's a bit more. It makes me proud to know that these small acts can help me soothe those I care about the most. It brings me great pride to know that one day, I'll continue passing down these same remedies. Maybe there will even be a mini me, sitting at the top of the dining room table, contemplating whether she should drink tea or stay sniffling.
