Julia, Ira & A White Plate

According to the Agĩkũyũ indigenous social mores, the hut of the man who was the head of the homestead was the receiving point of any guest in the homestead.  My brother Kariuki Wa Mbĩgĩ uses the most appropriate concept of a sponge in reference to the role of a hut of the head of the home. It made sense that that hut would be right next to the entrance to what was usually a circular set up huts belonging to the family. 

The idea of a sponge is however limited as it doesn’t do justice to the purpose of the guest going through the hut of the head of the homestead. Yet, any confusion is cleared by simply understanding the etymology of the word Thingira ( capitalized for emphasis).The word stems from the word “thingira” and “Ira”. Thingira means to seal any holes or to repair, while Ira is the name of a white chalk-like mined dirt that is used in almost some of the most critical rituals. The whiteness signifies purity. The hut of the head of the homestead is a spiritual space on one hand, a defense depot on the other and healing center to repair the psychological and political wellbeing of the family and a school to educate the next generation of viable leaders who can nourish,repair, defend and teach for the sake of a truly functional community. 

It’s for that reason that the young boys of the homestead would sleep in their father’s hut and upon undergoing through the rights of passage would have their own hut which also bore the same name.

In other words, the rights of passage opened doors for a practical learning by having a hut for the young man.

For the first time in my area, a Caucasian lady spent 6 weeks in a hut as a symbolic gesture of the learning that is overdue of the part of the two cultures represented here. Caucasians are referred as white but that reference hasn’t made them immune to the dangers of food illiteracy. My indigenous community have been victims of the misunderstanding of the complex Caucasian history and the struggle for justice and especially food justice.

In the end, a humble Thingira made members of two communities literate in spite of all the poison in regard to race!

Julia’s 6-week and Thingira treatment of consuming Just Food is a resurrection of the power of Thingira to repair and purify like the mythical power of “Ira” for both locals as well as Caucasians. A plate of Just Food prepared in line with Afro Futuristic Conscious Cuisine has contributed some in making a religious community spirited, a Caucasian student white and a freedom fighter and medical anthropologist what he has always yearned to be: a free, decolonized man who is functional in liberating the very soul of his community.

What greater joy than to rebuild the Thingira even in the heart of what has been “enemy territory “Hail Thingira! Hail Just Food.

Pharaonic Birthday and The Oval Office

I was inundated with wishes of a happy birthday all yesterday and today. I lost count once it hit over one hundred and eight. That’s a lot of people for me as the one thing I find with every successful year is that I have to deal with a shrinking list of friends. The irony of it is that almost every single year for the last decade, I always travel to a new state or country and meet new friends.

My point here is that yesterday was one of the most difficult days I have had. It just so happened that the week had been quite productive with great strides on other fronts( story for another day).

I was overcome with sadness as I considered all the energy that was being sent my way and knowing that it wouldn’t change the reality we live in for one single second. Happiness is not a one day affair when one wakes up and pushes the pause button for the sad reality in the world. This is one sick world and I am more scared of those who claim special powers, supernatural abilities and special abilities to make things better.

I can say a lot but I will wrap up with a write up going back a year back when I said that I will never wear a suit ever in my life. I came to realize that there things I hold as golden standards that promote injustices in the most blatant ways.

I almost cried therefore when I say one grown adult with a round object on his neck standing in front of a foreign dignitary from Ukraine, in front of the TV, and the only question he found worthy asking is why the president of a country in war couldn’t wear a suit to a meeting that was expressly designed to steal the minerals worth trillions of dollars for a fake peace without guarantee and the illogical condition of allowing Russia to keep all the stolen lands that have enormous wealth. And what do the people of Ukraine get? Nothing.

Nothing was what my day was about yesterday. I don’t mean to burst your bubbles but we are a sick people period. I am neither proud of my American citizenship nor my country of birth. The masses, Black or Caucasian, are interested in finding peace, success and happiness in a world that has none.

Every dollar in your pocket or toy or nice house has a heavy cost on the global happiness index that is hidden. As long as enough people are so smart to value a suit over justice and human life, we are all fucked.

America lied to Gorbachev that it would not advance an inch of NATO territory towards the territory of the former USSR and did the exact opposite. Putin is just trying to protect his territory and ensure he has access to a sea port that can allow him to trade with Chine should America blockade him as he has.

Yet, the sponsors of terror globally have the audacity to ask for a thank you and claim loudly that the American people have been disrespected by someone have a conversation. Trump even told him that he had spoken too much.

Okay, that is Ukraine. What about Congo? When are they planning to come to the Oval Office? What would they be coming to do if they saw the interview? What about Africans and other national here? Do we all have to dress a certain that conservatives feel is appropriate?

My heart is heavy and my wish is not to be happy but for justice to roll like a mighty river. Our first violence and “suit” we wear is the food we put in our mouth and the fake narratives we hold in our own “Oval Offices” we call heads. We are in very bad shape and we are headed in the wrong direction very fast. Prioritize justice and happiness will come.

African is a miniature of its past glory. Consider the 3,200 years old statue of the Egyptian Pharaoh Ramses II, known to have been one of Egyptian great pharaoh. The statue of Ramses the second weighs 83 tons. What kind of suit did he wear to rule that long and better yet, what kind of food did those who carved such a statue eat? How just was their “oval office” atop their neck and the one above their waistline?

That was then, I wonder how the ancestors would compare to my gracious friends on social media, especially with the over abundance of happy meals and other over speeding food otherwise known as fast food as the equivalent of “suits” for our “oval offices”. We too have a silent war going on against healthy food and sensible culture that supports and nourish our environment and community. Only with sustainable and nourishing oval offers amongst the masses can we expect the politicians to reflect our values allow us to celebrate every day with happiness. Happy “Oval Offices”, which apparently connected through by Vagus nerve. Apparently the word vagus is the same root for the word vagabond. I am now truly lost on account of the condition of the corrupt “oval offices” I dream of a rebirth pharaonic era that makes all of us feel at home.

Thayũ Thayù

Sunflower Capture

Captured Sunflower 

I have been following the changing dynamics of organic seeds for over a quarter of a century. It’s one of the reasons I became an ardent collector of organic seeds. The other unintended consequences of my interest in seeds is that I have also been able to track the changing cost of what I call Just Food. The cost of seeds have a big bearing on both the availability and cost of just food in ways that is less obvious to the general consumer. 

Today I looked at a few gorgeous photos of our organic sunflower seeds being grown by our astute farmer, one Muchemi Njenga.. The seeds growing in Kitengela are a perfect snack for the birds, especially during the current  dry season when food is scarce. That means that we have to put nets on a big number of sunflowers to ensure we can harvest enough seeds for our seed bank. 

While Muchemi is keeping an eye on the birds, I am keeping an eye on the price of seeds. According to the price of our latest sunflower seeds we are adding to our collection, 2 seeds costs the equivalent of a liter of milk in the local market. If one considers the cost of producing a a liter of milk, it becomes clear that the price of organic seeds is already one of the biggest obstacles in increasing accessibility of Just Food to most people.

The end result is that more and more stomachs are being captured and placed in Unjust bags of the evil forces of doom who thrive from peddling toxic chemicals and medicines. While Muchemi’s bags are keeping the birds from eating all the Sunflowers, he is gracious enough to share the bounty with the birds. Unfortunately the same cannot be said about the enemies of Just Food, the foundation of any sensible food system or any semblance of viable civilization. What we do have instead is an insidious and pernicious web with astute super structures which dictate that a food system that is increasingly becoming dominant, or adored is essentially antithetical to justice, sustainability and civic gastronomy. The problem is so serious as to surpass the level of epidemic, yet its as if the majority of the masses are in denial. This epidemic hasn’t provoked the kind of ire one would typically expect gauging by the cost the problem costs all societies.

What many don’t see is the proverbial bag used to capture the masses by imperialists and the peddlers of toxic chemicals is the exact opposite of a sunflower. The word sunflower combines two beautiful words, sun and flower. Those words denote light and beauty. That light and beauty is exactly what unjust food obliterates, albeit slowly and over a long time.The end result will most likely be darkness and distortion. Put simply, many easily understood what state capture means: that the benefits intended for all citizens are hijacked for the benefit of a few crooks. Sunflower capture represents the same hijacking of a food system for the benefit of darkness, distortion and fiat culture.

We are thankful for all those who support our Sunflower seeds but also our efforts to promote light and beauty in our community and beyond. 

ThayùCulture

Sovereign Rhubarb

The Greeks are believed to have given rhubarb its name. Rhubarb’s oldest name amongst the Greeks was Rha Barbaron, a word that translates to “foreign rhubarb”. In short, a plant that is believed to have originated from China but dispersed globally from Europe, the foreign bit of the name has stuck around.  We have however decided to create a welcoming environment in Gathĩngĩra for this gorgeous and flavorful plant. As a sign of our commitment to our promise, the committee of ThayũCulure, using the principles of Afro futurism, have arrived at the name of Mariuki( meaning resurrection) as the most appropriate local name. 

We are delighted to have Mariuki flavor as a local gem to enhance our food experience. We are staying true to our believe that even indigenous foods are foreign in most of the places you currently find them. The best of us is the one with the biggest collection of clean organic and heirloom seeds that will ultimately become localized. In other words, one who resurrects clean seeds in their local zones.

It would be a form of self-imposed discrimination for me to leave in this world and to only experience life with the tip of my tongue. If I can live one good life, I can leave the collection of wonderful flavors we have for those who will come behind me. Depending on how good of a job we do, the flavors will mark our efforts and I hope that like Mariũki, those who will follow in our footsteps will know that they too are on transit and that they should both preserve and energize food, flavors and community to make this world a better place. 

One way to kill that dream is to be stuck on only the food of your ancestors. If I ever become one, I would be highly disappointed if those who had a chance to eat better opted to pass the opportunity. Whatever their reasons, I hope I won’t be one of them. I practiced food sovereignty on a domestic level, by eating the best I know how, even when all I could do is guess. Don’t forget that the second name of rhubarb was “Barbaron” a word that means barbarian or savage. How interesting is that?

Compared to the Greeks, our ancestors did not think of seeds as foreign. Whenever traders and travelers would find new seeds while traveling, they would bring back some of them. If asked where they got the seeds from, the common answer was that the seeds had been offered by the highest deity amongst my people.

If all else fails, just find your way to Gathĩngĩra and walk “ .. down hill and up heal with the rhubarb medicinal energy.” I promise you that energy is sovereign. Africans have been living and eating like foreigners for too long and the consequences are obvious for anyone with eyes. It’s time to be majestic with our food and our consciousness of its consumption. If my ancestors treasured seeds to that degree, ThayũCulture must be following in their footsteps. We know of no better service to engage Gathĩngĩra in than to keep amplifying the work of our ancestors and keep refining it along the way.

ThayùCulture

Food Discrimination

Kũganda Kerĩ

In Gĩkũyũ language, there are fewer words that are as useful in describing food conditions and bodily conditions in such a complex way than the word kùganda. In terms of food, kũganda refers to spoiled cooked food. When referring to one’s body, it refers to being numb due to anesthetics or being in a certain position that cuts the normal circulation of blood long enough to make a particular part of the body numb. 

I find that word quite interesting as it can be used with both meanings to accurately describe the global food crisis. Humans seem to have been so numb that the consumption of bad food seems to be normal. Looked at another way is that the consumption of spoiled food might have resulted in many being numb to the fact that the food being consumed is spoilt and would therefore lead to serious consequences, among them being the spoiling of the environment as well as future generations through such issues as epigenetic diseases and such.

It would be appropriate to say that our food system has attributes of “ Kũganda Squared”. That simply means that the food system demonstrates the humanistic and culinary characteristics of the word “kũganda”.

I am especially interested in the issue of food as a tool of empowerment for previously oppressed people. The topic of Black History month shouldn’t be discussed with factoring food in very deliberate ways.

Yet the topic of food is the quintessential living history. Food is not something that can be divorced from history or relegated to a museum artifact. Food is a truly living phenomenon. Previously oppressed populations cannot therefore afford to be numb to its inherent power continue the oppression of oppressed people.

That idea was the inspiration of the recipe below. The only thing that is cooked is the beans. It was a recipe made to celebrate rekindled love of the heart and love of food with a dear friend. 

The friend once took offense because I excused myself from enjoy her dinner due to my dietary restrictions against “kũganda” both of food and the culture around food. I explained that I wouldn’t willingly and knowingly consume food that is not appropriate for my health, environment and power balance. Later we became close friends as they too joined the movement towards Just Food or what I call Life Worship.

This recipe is a celebration of triumph of reason, food Justine and friendship. The meal was consumed en route, aboard a big plane amidst the very type of food that symbolizes opulence of one hand but in sustainability on the other. We celebrate victory one plate at a time. Try it and see.

In the Heart of the Moon

Twenty years ago, Ali Farka Toure and Toumini Diabate come out with a classic collection of songs they produced under the title of In the Heart of The Moon. I immediately got my copy as soon as I heard about it on NPR. It was as if it had been designed to be a collectable item. It comes with a sleeve with a blurry image of what looks like a boat with an oversized white sailcloth in a narrow river in the middle and dry banks on both sides.

 I fell in love with the whole collection for reasons I couldn’t easily explain. I then forgot the CD following the coming of Youtube. I packed all my music collection and stored it away. I recently revisited my collection and started playing some of my favorites. I obviously needed a lot of time and therefore started with just a few. Funny enough, the tunes would tend to remind me of a specific feeling or emotion.  In the case of In the Heart of the Moon, it reminded me of my discontents with the state of the world at the time. Looking back, this period must have marked the tipping point of my discontent. It was the period when I read the most. 

During the time I retrieved the CD above, I also retrieved some of my old books. I obviously didn’t have as my food books as I have today. Yet food had been  a central topic in my life for a decade and a half. 

I took time to listen to Toure’s unique guitar rhythms as I meditated on the English title of a CD without one English song. How ironical that African music is clearly packaged for Western consumption? I was then drawn to the image on the cover with a boat and dry lands on the side. My feelings of nostalgia for home and discontent about the food and social injustices are no longer personal issues but global matters. We are out of the heart of the sun and into the heart of the moon. Darkness persists and that state of being has come with serious consequences that only a fool can deny.

As I finished listening to this gem, I felt a great appreciation of the melodic music on one hand but an equal debt of gratitude for the writers who had preserved the wealth of scholarship, wisdom and folk knowledge from our ancestors. It them occurred to me that the bulk of our present day crises we face primarily, but not exclusively, came about whenever our ancestors failed to correctly answer three  questions: what should I eat, what should do with my time and who should I trust to act on my behalf.  

What we should eat was outsourced to those who cared to answer the question of the cost of eating the way the proposed. Those who were entrusted to manage time created an unjust economy where some toil but fruits benefit those that did the least work. Those who were entrusted to be custodian of justice and governance were equally corrupt and untrustworthy. 

Out of the three critical questions above, the easiest and most important one to correctly answer is what we should eat. A correct answer to that seemingly simple question would make it much easier to answer the other two and to ultimately return to “ Heart of the Sun”. 

Writing with Flavors of Justice

Here is a great example of a revolutionary who didn’t count days but made the few years that he lived count, I have the most respect for the freedom of thought he expressed and actively put in practice. It was greatly empowering to read his critical collection of essays in book aptly entitled “ I Write What I Like”.

I agree that the most powerful tool in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed against themselves, thankfully I can also add to this thought that the most powerful and salient weapon in the hands of the oppressed against themselves is food illiteracy. In line with the same revolutionary thinking that led Steve Biko to write what he liked, I too write what I like with flavors and by extension cook and eat what I like. To summarize the goal of my work can be done with two simple words: Eat Well.

To say and mean the two word statement of “Eat Well” just might be the most powerful weapon in the hands of both the oppressed, the oppressor and the environment. Only after the two word statement gains traction in each and every person in the planet can the idea of a happy birthday have any meaning! Food illiteracy is an injustice that makes life untenable for us all. This day that marks the day Steve Biko was born is a perfect day for everyone to rededicate themselves to the cause of Food Justice/ Food Illiteracy with goal as well as we like. On my part, I am totally taking my own advice and writing through life with flavors of justice.

Thayũculture

Beauty As Life Worship

Beaty is a major part of ThayũCulture or more simply of Life Worship. The importance of general aesthetics is not only complimentary to good health but has broader reaches including poetic, prophetic and political. What’s even more interesting is that the love of beauty is not only the purview of mortals of men but also of deep interests to various deities going back to the primordial days. Among the most influential of such examples can be found in the stories of Homer. The two books attributed to him are based on the tale of a beauty contest gone haywire. The myth of the Trojan War, the basis of the two books by Homer, starts with a wedding on mount Olympus. All the gods and goddesses had been invited except Eris,the goddess of discord. For this dishonor, she crashed the party and threw an apple with a note that it was for the most beautiful goddess.

The otherwise peaceful event took a turn for worse when each of the three goddesses, Venus, Athena and Aphrodite, all claimed to be the most beautiful ones. Not even the biggest god of all was willing to settle to case, instead outsourcing the judgment to a Trojan herdsman known as Paris. As it turned out, the appointment to resolve the dispute of matters of beauty between women and goddesses comes the potential of suicide as serious possibility.

All the three goddesses resulted to bribery in an effort to influence the final decision by the poor herdsman. After weighing all the varies items and powers offered to Paris by the goddesses, the most attractive was, well, beauty. Paris chose the goddess who offered him Helen of Troy, the most beautiful woman in the Greek world. It did not matter that Helen of Troy had been married to the King of Menelaus of Sparta, in addition to having an insurance policy on that marriage in the form of an oath to protect that sacred matrimonial bond by all other Greek kings. By accepting Helen as a price for voting Aphrodite as the most beautiful goddess, Paris essentially inviting the wrath of all the Greek kings and their armies.

The result of those two events led to a 10 year war. Nowadays a similar struggle continues in terms of human health as we mirror Paris and Aphrodite. We fight against our health with the bribe of wining the public approval of being our most beautiful versions of ourselves at a small cost of abandoning our inner and true health. To look beautiful and attractive to both the modern day goddess and gods, we will sacrifice anything.

The ultimate result is that we are suffering in name brand clothes, living and driving expensive houses and cars, but existing in the most corrupt and cheap bodies ever. I am thinking here about the washed bodies and the clean and expensive clothes worn on the day designated as the day of worship where I live.

Before you blame Aphrodite for our misery, remember that Adam ate the forbidden fruit and only then realized that Eve was naked for the first time. Poor eating habits causes all manner of shame, discomfort and distortions.

Talk about the need to be born again, but not as children or by the gods or goddesses, who seem to be infected by the same virus, but in Life Worship.

Verily, Verily I say unto you, seek ye the inside beauty of your health and outside beauty will be yours both now and forever. I am not just saying it from the mythology of the Greeks of yo, but from a lived experience of the power of Just Food we are growing in Gathĩngĩra. I would venture to say that that had Paris tasted our food, the story of the Trojan war would have never seen the light of day but instead we would have a love stories of the inner beauty more superior to the physical beauty of Helen.

This inner beauty has been visible to me and I call it I Am. For you are truly beautiful if your inside beauty shines so much so that it can be seen with the naked eye. Maybe the kind of beauty that is so powerful that it hides your nakedness. Maybe it’s that kind of beauty that weathered away when Adam ate the wrong food and immediately realized that he was naked. I Am health a product of Just Food, is the most attractive beauty and therefore a major component of ThayũCulture. In so many ways, modern day beauty is the reincarnation of Aris, modern day goddess of discord.