A culture vulture

I always want to know: What do you eat? What are your traditional foods and how do you make it? Can you show me? What kinds of songs do you sing, not the pop junk, but the traditional songs? Show me how you dance. Tell me about your country’s history, who are the figures of note? What is your language like, do you speak a dialect like I do? Honestly I’m like a child when I meet someone from a different culture. I’m full of questions because I want to understand. The more obscure the country, the more fascinated I am. Years ago when I worked in the UK, a staff member from Albania joined my team. Poor thing, I latched on to him and wouldn’t let go until he taught me everything I wanted to know about his country.

My love of other cultures is not a rejection of my own. I am a Trini through and through no matter where I go or what I do, it is evident to anyone that knows anything about our country. I like learning about other cultures to see in what ways are we different and in what ways are we the same. For most of my 20s I studied dance and I learned that Hawaiians and Tahitians can teach Trinis a thing or two about throwing waist and Turkish belly dancing is sexier than anything you will ever see on a Carnival Tuesday. Learning from others makes me value my own culture more and I get ideas of little things I can do to tweak it and make things even better.

When I lived in the UK, my Nigerian, Cameroonian, Gambian and Ugandan co workers and I would have cooking throw downs in the office. The day we had a curry contest, I’m proud to say my curried goat won the unanimous nod. My special stewed oxtail is also famous among my friends from around the world, from Switzerland to Australia. (Honestly I think one ex-boyfriend cried more about losing access to my stewed oxtail than the fact I was breaking up with him) What makes it so special? Vietnamese fish sauce (that’s between you and me). I learned how to make Nigerian jollof rice, Cameroonian blackened fish and okra stew from Ghana, while I shared the bliss of bake and shark, pholourie and mango chutney and Sunday lunch.

Recently I was laughing about a lady on a cooking show who confessed to the host she learnt to make lasagne while visiting friends in Finland. I asked my mother, ‘Who the hell goes to Finland to learn an Italian dish?’ Her response was “That’s just like you and your friends”. Touch?. She was right of course. My German friend makes amazing homemade wine and Trini style curry, another friend from South Africa taught me how to make Pakistani biriyani and the list goes on. Right now I’m in the process of trying to perfect Singaporean Hainanese chicken rice and beef rendang though the ‘Singlish’ is tripping me up.

I dislike the _ uffy, unsubstantial excuse that passes for culture. I always prefer a classic commentary calypso over the fast-paced, light on lyrics soca. Don’t get me wrong, soca has its time and place but when I think of the origins of calypso, of slaves expressing their discontent through song, wine and jam doesn’t come to mind. It’s the same way I embrace the gugak music of Song So Hee over Psy’s Gangnam Style, no matter how many hits he got on You Tube. It takes more effort than just consuming some culturally appropriated, mass produced tripe. You have to dig, do research, get out there and talk to people to get a sense of the authentic culture of a people. It also requires you know have a solid knowledge of your history and yourself.

What makes someone a Trini? Is it an ID card and a passport, or knowing all the lyrics to this year’s Road March? This thing that is culture is a fluid, ever-evolving organism and Trini culture, unlike many others is designed to be flexible and to incorporate and absorb others. For example, calypso as an art form can include traditional sounds of Indian music, Jamaican music, African sounds and Asian sounds not to mention more Western genres like classical music, rock, folk, jazz, blues, and hip hop while remaining distinctly calypso. In case you didn’t know, that is an amazing thing. There are some old and well established cultures that are completely inflexible and while it ensures things are perfectly preserved, they run the risk of becoming irrelevant to younger generations. Trinidadian culture by virtue of being this living, ever-evolving entity, need never become stale and outdated. As the world becomes more accessible and we begin to relate with people and cultures we’ve never met before, there are opportunities to learn from others while sharing of ourselves. When people can see themselves reflected in something or there is a familiarity with elements of our culture, they are more easily attracted to it. This makes our culture more relatable and relevant to a wider audience.

As I prepare international meals in my little kitchen, I think of the people and the culture that arrived at this dish. How can I think poorly of people that create great food, amazing music and colourful traditions? As I look at the news and listen to the hate filled rhetoric spewing from public figures and the victimisation of people that are different I am heartbroken. Studies show that racism is directly related to two things, poor education and lack of exposure to ethnicities different from yourself. In these modern times there is no excuse for such ignorance. So educate yourself about the world around you, try something new and different. I learnt through my travels over the years, when you meet someone that knows something about your culture, they’re no longer a stranger. Maybe if we were less estranged from each other, the sense of marginalisation and disenfranchisement that keeps driving people to extremist views and acts would disappear. I once spent a few hours in a departure lounge discussing with an elderly rabbi, how my unnatural love of pork was derailing my efforts to eat kosher. Two people that couldn’t be more different, from two ethnic groups that have a less than positive history of interaction could have a lovely chat and learn from each other. I’m just saying if we could talk to each other, sit down at a table and share a meal and arrive at some kind of understanding just maybe we wouldn’t need to be talking about building walls anymore.