African Attitudes: An IntroductionAfrica! The mother country, that was my destination. I had traveled before -- Europe had seen my black face several times, in fact -- but this trip was something quite different: I was going home. I cannot claim to have thought of Africa that way all my life. In fact, I was a recent convert to nationalism and pan-Africanism. My new identification was something of which I was doubly proud. I wore it like a flag. This trip was a confirmation of all that I looked for.
The excitement of the trip was by far overshadowed by the knowledge that I was going to a home that I had never seen and to relatives who had never seen me. We didn't even know of each other's existence. Nigeria, Ghana, Côte d'Ivoire, Senegal -- all were places that were as familiar to me as dreams, yet far and forbidding in reality. The towns on the itinerary that I had chosen unfurled like a banner that held all my history: Accra, Abidjan, Ouagadougou, Cotonou, Bamako. I was going home, home, home, home.
So I wrote in the summer of 1972 with all the enthusiasm of the twenty-four-year-old that I was. I have been returning to Africa with the same wonder and excitement for almost three decades. It is a place like no other. While I can look back now at the musings of my youth and smile at the naïveté that I displayed about the continent and myself, I also marvel at the accuracy of my observations. Africa is, was, and will always be home to me.
My African home is a continent made up of hundreds of ethnic groups. It is a continent of such vast geographical diversity that no one can claim to truly understand the whole. Despite all that, we all labor under a burden of misconceptions, trite inaccuracies, fanciful inventions, and just plain lies about the continent where man was born. Africa is dark indeed, not from any malevolence of its own but rather from our own ignorance. No continent has a longer record of continual unflattering images in the history of the modern world. So let's begin our culinary journey by ridding our minds of the negative elements that today's headlines and yesterday's news broadcasts have imprinted on our collective memory banks.
Banish the photographic images of babies with begging bowls and Bokassas crowning themselves. Delete the pictures of warring nations and despots with their diamonds. Eliminate the dissension and contention left in the wake of colonialism. Forget about National Geographic's bare-breasted maidens, Ubangis, and cannibal cooking pots. While we're at it, eradicate the concept of the "noble savage" and the idea of the slave trade being an issue that can be defined in black and white. Remove all notion of the legendary kingdom of Punt, where the Egyptians traded for spices, and while we're at it, let's also leave out King Solomon's Mines, The African Queen, the Marx Brothers' Dr. Spaulding, The African Explorer, Tarzan, Sheena, and yes...George of the Jungle.
Too many of us still tend to regard Africa as a country. It may come as a brutal shock to realize that the African landmass is three times the size of Europe and four times that of the United States. Madagascar, which is a part of Africa, is the fourth-largest island in the world. Too many folk still talk about people speaking African, ignoring the fact that over 1,000 different languages are spoken on this continent that comprises many worlds.
Much like the story of the blind man and the elephant, those who visit different areas of Africa return home with different tales of the "part" that they have touched. It is a continent with many doors, many different points of entry into a world that is wondrous and strange.
Travelers who visit capital cities like Nairobi, Capetown, Abidjan, and Dar es Salaam return home with tales of an Africa where the sophisticated badinage of the drawing rooms of the mondaine is larded with discussions of art shows in London's Chelsea, Paris's Rive Gauche, or New York's SoHo and interspersed with referencesto stock markets in London and Tokyo. If they head to Lagos, Nigeria, or Cotonou, Benin, they return with tales of traffic jams and go-slows, of people wearing designer agbadas that match the car being driven that day, of weddings where the bride makes three or four complete changes, from dress to jewels -- white with diamonds, pink with rubies, and blue with sapphires -- where the best dancers at the reception are rewarded with Niara or CFA or Cedis plastered to their sweating brows.
Others travel to game parks and return with tales of an Africa that looks as though it might have appeared the day after God rested. They tell of a vast and unspoiled land whose beauty is so staggering as to be truly indescribable. Some will talk of the ancient marvel of pyramids, the haunting silence of the stone ruins at Greater Zimbabwe, the thatched great palace gate at Ketou in Benin, or the Roman ruins at Volubilis in Morocco. Still others describe vast dunes and profound lagoons, dense rain forests and sun-dappled vineyards. Some will not be able to see beyond the poverty and the problems, while others will discover a continent of myriad opportunities for growth and betterment.
Africa is a continent that can leave no one indifferent and where everyone will find at least one thing to his or her taste. It is where the exotic meets the ordinary, a place that is at the same time strange and familiar. Africa, with all its conflicting images, is a continent of diversity, and nowhere is this diversity better expressed than in the Africa that is a continent of cuisines.
Over the years, I've explored these cuisines, unconsciously (as a traveler who loves to eat) and consciously (as a food historian and cookbook writer). My sojourns on the continent have taken me from north to south, east to west. I've ridden on the back of a motorbike from the Hilton hotel deep into the souks of the Chellah in Rabat in search of spices and eaten blood sausage in the open market in Kenya on a dare. I've sipped champagne served by white-gloved servants in the homes of high government officials in C&244;te d'Ivoire, been served cool water in a chipped enamel basin by tattooed co-wives in Benin. I've danced to high-life music under the stars in Accra and sipped innumerable Flag, and Stork, Star, and Tusker beers. In Kenya, I saw the Indian Ocean for the first time with an old man who had never been there and ate biryanis and curries and marveled at the cultural mix that is Mombasa. I've had dinner with the Virgin Mary, as you will see later, eaten in a tent, and placed my hand in the communal bowl in too many countries to note. I've slept in fancy hotels and dined under the stars in the bush.
I cannot claim to know Africa, but I can claim to have eaten in all of its cardinal points. I cannot claim expertise, but I admit, indeed crow, about my extended African circle of friends who have become the matrix of my overseas family. Berber and Bantu, Fon and Falasha, Afrikaner and Akan all sit down at my African table, along with the descendants of Europeans, Indians, Malaysians, Lebanese, and those who share ancestral blood with the enslaved sons and daughters of the continent who have returned home from Brazil, the Caribbean, and the United States. In short, in the more than a quarter of a century that I have been visiting Africa since I first wrote of going home in 1972, I have become a part of this continent that fascinates and attracts me as much now as it did then. My Africa is a continent of ancient history and profound spirituality: a continent of madness and marvels, where the past walks side by side with the present and both show the way to the future. It is a continent of history and culture, of music and science, of art and imagination, and yes, of cuisine.
Copyright © 1998 by Jessica B. Harris
Out of the Dark: Traditional African Diets and Modern Health
The African continent has long been dubbed the Dark Continent. Needless to say, this appellation is incorrect. More appropriately, the landmass where man originated should be baptized the "Continent About Which We Are in the Dark." Nowhere is this more evident than in the realm of food. I recently taught a master's-level course on international cuisine at a major university. On the first day of class, I asked my students what they knew about the food of the African continent. They dithered at first, arguing that they didn't know anything about the continent's food. I gently challenged them, and finally they came up with "Very hot," "Really spicy," "Soupy stuff." That was it. No more from these food and nutrition scholars. Finally, one bright student added, "Couscous." There was no more, not even from the student whose parents were Egyptian. She thought I meant only sub-Saharan Africa and didn't realize that her Sephardic Jewish cuisine was also a part of the diverse culinary heritage of the continent.
Nothing could have brought Africa's place in the culinary world more startlingly home. It's easy to see that African food hasgotten a bad rap. With the awareness of the food of the continent at such a low level, it's only natural that there is no thought at all to the healthful aspects of the diet. When African food is brought up, people's minds turn more to palm oil and hot chiles, mucilaginous soupy stews, and mystery meats than to appetizing healthful dishes. Certainly, all those things can be found in the diet of the continent, but along with them, there's more, so very, very much more. There's spit-roasted lamb and an infinite number of couscous dishes prepared from hard wheat and millet. The bounty of the vast coastline is served baked, stewed, and fried and can range from grilled sardines to fish curries. The continent's touch with spicing and the spices that inspired this talent were legendary before Columbus sailed westward. If that's not enough, the hands in hues ranging from saffron through cinnamon to deep, dark chocolate that have stirred the continent's pots for millennia are acknowledged virtually worldwide as gifted in the art of food preparation. Think of the enslaved cooks of the so-called New World. From the south of France to South Brooklyn, much of what we eat daily has been inspired by the food of Africa.
The diet of the continent is arguably at the origin of the much-vaunted Mediterranean diet; after all, the Mediterranean, after it was the mare nostrum of the Romans, was a Moorish sea for several centuries. Think of the paradigms. As in the Mediterranean diet, meat is not the centerpiece of the plate but rather a taste-enhancing addition to the vegetable-rich main courses. Think of the couscous of Morocco or the thiebou dienn of Senegal. Grains are consumed in abundance. Think of the millet couscous of Mali or the rice that goes under the main dish in much of Sierra Leone. Think of all the starchy mashes prepared from corn and millet in many parts of the continent. Corn from the Americas has pre-eminence in South Africa as mealie, but it also turns up in the fermented starches of West Africa. The continent can even boast grains of its own, like Ethiopia's teff. In other areas of the continent, mashes prepared from tubers replace grains and provide a starch base for the meal. And the paradigm of a soupy stew over a mash applies to dishes north, central, and south, ranging from the tajines of Morocco to the groundnut stews of Ghana to the curries of the east and south.
The ingredients of the continent's cooking themselves are not only rich in taste but also rich in nutrition. Garlic, which flavors many pots and was used extensively by the ancient Egyptians, may lower blood cholesterol. The leafy greens that go into pots from Ethiopia to Côte d'Ivoire are rich in beta-carotene and vitamin C. They are also a good source of fiber and of minerals like iron and calcium. Legumes like black-eyed peas and the fava beans that are the basis of Egypt's ful are some of the best plant sources of protein and some of the oldest agricultural crops in the world. When they are mixed with rice or other grains, asthey are in many dishes, the result is almost perfect in terms of nutrition. Millet, one of the world's oldest grains, has been used on the continent for millennia. The rice that turns up on many American tables actually arrived in South Carolina from Madagascar and was cultivated with African know-how.
The okra that flavors much of the cooking of the continent is rich in vitamin C as well as in folic acid and other B vitamins and is a good source of dietary fiber. Chiles have been found to aid digestion and act as a natural thermostat in the torrid zones by making individuals sweat, thereby lowering their body temperatures. They are also rich in vitamin C and some are good sources of beta-carotene. Beyond the temperate zones of the northern and southern ends of the continent, sugar is used sparingly, and the taste for things sweet is satisfied with fresh fruits. Watermelon not only provides a good source of potassium and vitamin C but offers liquid as well. Salt is not the villain that it is in many otherparts of the world, because it is traditionally used sparingly as the precious substance it once was.
The sidebars of the Mediterranean diet pyramid are two notations indicating that exercise and wine in moderation may also form part of this much-vaunted diet. For those who live traditional lives on the continent, exercise of the pumping-iron, aerobic type is laughable. Exercise is gained simply in the daily going about the business of living -- pounding grain in mortars and carrying water, and more.
But with increasing Westernization, the traditional diet is being changed, as it is throughout the world. Animal protein is becoming a large part of the meal, along with the empty calories of foods that are packaged and prepared when compared with those that are caringly cultivated. Nutritionists, though, are looking at ways to adapt traditional tastes and ingredients to modern lifestyles. One thing that needs no adaptation is the incalculable role played by the commensality of food. The sharing of meals andthe communing with friends and family across bloodlines and generations that takes place at the tables of the continent every day is perhaps the healthiest aspect of the African diet and indeed the easiest to duplicate on this side of the Atlantic in our own homes.
Copyright © 1998 by Jessica B. Harris