If I was to take a few minutes to do a gastrointestinal reflection on what 30 years in the U.S has meant to my food culture, a most appropriate place to start would be in on the Thanksgiving Sunday in 1989 in as border town of South Haven Mississippi, close Memphis, Tennessee.
This year 30 years ago, I attended New Hope Baptist Church in Southaven Mississippi with my newly wedded wife who was two months pregnant with my daughter. After church, we attended a huge family dinner at the in-laws house. Ms. Warren was the matriarch of the house who would make any feminist blush.
She understood exactly what African Americans had to do to hold the families together. The Sunday dinners was a family tradition that few missed without a genuine excuse good enough for the queen. The time I spent with Mrs. Warren and her family has had a tremendous impact on my thoughts about food and justice.
The she would tell me stories about share cropping; how they financed their house from a cleaning wage and a garbage driver's wage coz the bank would not loan them any money. To get around the racist laws, the Warrens would buy building material during the week and then the men in the community would come help build the house. Over the weekend That is exactly what I had seen growing up in the village in Kenya.
The lessons from Mrs. Warren were not always verbal. I learned a ton just from observing how she handled business with style. She was a sharp dresser, bling and all , and also very religious. It was a great honor to introduce her to my father during a visit for my graduation. I tried to explain to him the role Mrs. Warren and her family had played during the toughest time of my life. Weather he understood or not is besides the point. What is important is my food culture was connected to that of African Americans through not only through blood but through Mrs. Warren. On this day, I made a wonderful meal only fit for Mrs. Warren. Though I no longer keep the church tradition, I do keep the deep lover she showered me with and a crass attitude for good measure.
What I thought was a challenge at the time turned to be refining training from some of the best. Though uneducated, the wisdom and the warm she illuminated with be with me forever.
Kudos for my dinners around Mrs. Warren kitchen table with family.
For the sake of memories, I made a goat dish with stinging nettles, malabar spinach, pumpkin leaves, green bananas, black pepper, garlic and cumin.