Issue - 16 - Food As Identity
Symbol of love, friendship, and the unbreakable bonds forged around a table
Note from Editor
Hello!! I feel like I say every piece embodies what We Have Food At Home is really about—and this piece is no exception. Jael writes about Jollof rice and how it became a part of identity. And symbolizes love and friendship and the bonds that are forged around the table. There are very specific dishes that carry that memory for me—and although I discover new dishes and restaurants I love almost every month, the core dishes that I use to define myself often come from my childhood. Jael’s story of finding his neighbor—and therefore finding the dish that forever changed his perception of food—is a precious one. I love the reminder that we might be destined to find certain food. I always feel like I was meant to find my way to certain dishes—to find that feeling present in this essay makes me feel seen in a way I haven’t before.
I hope you enjoy this piece! What food do you feel like is a core part of your identity?
Warmly,
Padya
Jael Bore
Jael Bore is a young Kenyan journalist, storyteller, and aspiring filmmaker. With a passion for capturing stories and bringing them to life, Jael is dedicated to exploring the power of words and visuals in conveying meaningful narratives. Born and raised in Kenya, Jael has developed a deep appreciation for the diverse cultures, experiences, and perspectives found within her continent and beyond.
Jael's journey in journalism began with her insatiable curiosity and love for storytelling. She possesses a keen eye for detail, always striving to uncover unique angles and untold stories that resonate with audiences. Whether it's through written articles or audiovisual content, Jael aims to shed light on important social issues, challenge stereotypes, and spark meaningful conversations.
Finding Home in Jollof
Jollof rice, a dish that transcends borders and unites people, became more than just a culinary delight for me—it has become a symbol of belonging and a taste that reminds me of home. As a child, my neighbor, Mrs. Akintayo, played a significant role in introducing me to the world of Jollof rice and igniting a lifelong love affair with this flavorful delicacy.
Growing up in the bustling city of Nairobi, my family had recently moved into the city, and I found myself in unfamiliar surroundings. The streets were filled with unfamiliar faces, and I longed for a sense of familiarity. That's when fate brought Mrs. Akintayo into my life.
Mrs. Akintayo was a warm and nurturing woman with a thick Nigerian accent that I enjoyed mimicking though unsuccessfully. Her presence alone had a way of making you feel instantly at ease. One sunny Sunday afternoon, after a playdate with her son, Emeka, Mrs. Akintayo invited me into her home for a meal that would forever change my perception of food.
As I stepped into her kitchen, the air was thick with the enchanting aroma of spices, mingling with the tantalizing scent of simmering tomatoes. I watched in awe as Mrs. Akintayo effortlessly transformed humble ingredients into a masterpiece before my very eyes. Her hands moved with grace and precision, measuring spices, chopping onions, and blending the flavors with expertise honed through years of practice.
Curiosity mixed with hunger, and I couldn't help but ask her about the dish she was preparing. With a warm smile, she explained that it was Jollof rice—a dish deeply rooted in West African culture, known for its vibrant colors and explosive flavors. I listened intently, captivated by the story she weaved around this beloved dish.
As the Jollof rice cooked, its tantalizing scent filled the room, creating a comforting and familiar atmosphere. Time seemed to slow down as Mrs. Akintayo dished out generous portions onto our plates. The moment I took my first bite, my taste buds were transported to a world of bliss. The flavors danced on my tongue, a harmonious blend of tomato, spices, and the subtle heat of scotch bell peppers. Each grain of rice was infused with the essence of love and care, and I savored every mouthful.
From that day forward, Mrs. Akintayo's Jollof rice became a regular part of my life. Every Sunday, after our playdates, we would gather around her table, our bellies grumbling with anticipation. The aroma of Jollof rice would permeate the neighborhood, drawing others in with its irresistible allure. We would share stories, laughter, and moments of pure joy, all while savoring the familiar taste that brought us together.
As the years passed, our bond deepened, and Mrs. Akintayo became more than just a neighbor—she became family. Her Jollof rice became a symbol of love, warmth, and the sense of belonging I had yearned for. It was a dish that not only nourished my body but also nurtured my spirit.
Even as I venture out into the world, leaving behind the comforting embrace of my childhood, the taste of Jollof rice continues to bring me solace. No matter where I find myself, be it in a bustling city or a foreign land, a plate of Jollof rice always feels like coming home. It is a reminder of the love and connection shared around Mrs. Akintayo's table, and the precious memories we created.
Today, whenever I prepare Jollof rice, I can't help but smile as the familiar scents fill my kitchen. I am reminded of Mrs. Akintayo's nurturing spirit and the way she made me feel like a part of something greater. Jollof rice, for me, has become more than just a dish; it is a lifeline to my roots and a conduit for cherished memories. It carries the essence of my childhood and the love that Mrs.Akintayo poured into every grain of rice she cooked.
As I embark on new adventures and face the challenges of adulthood, I carry Mrs.Akintayo's Jollof rice recipe with me, like a treasured heirloom. I recreate the dish in my own kitchen, striving to capture the same flavors and aromas that define my upbringing. With each pot of Jollof rice I cook, I feel a sense of connection to my past and an affirmation of who I am.
Years have passed since those cherished Sundays filled with playdates and Jollof rice feasts, but the memories remain etched in my heart. Mrs. Akintayo's Jollof rice taught me the profound impact that a simple act of kindness and the sharing of a meal can have on people's lives. It was more than just a dish; it was a symbol of love, friendship, and the unbreakable bonds forged around a table.
To this day, the aroma of Jollof rice carries me back to those carefree days, where laughter echoed through the streets and the taste of happiness lingered on my tongue
Over time, I find myself sharing Mrs. Akintayo's Jollof rice with friends and loved ones, eager to introduce them to the magic of this soulful dish. I recount the stories of Sunday playdates and the warmth of Mrs. Akintayo's home, painting a vivid picture of the bond we formed around a shared love for Jollof rice.
As I travel the world, I encounter different variations of Jollof rice, each with its own unique flair. From the smoky flavors of Nigerian Jollof to the spicy notes of Ghanaian Jollof and my mom's Kenyan pilau,I marvel at how this humble dish has woven itself into the fabric of diverse cultures. It is a symbol of shared experiences and the universal language of food.
But no matter the variation, I always find solace in the familiar taste of Mrs.Akintayo's Jollof rice. It is my anchor, a reminder of where I came from and the love that shaped me. In its embrace, I find comfort and a sense of belonging, no matter how far I roam.
To this day, I continue to make Mrs. Akintayo's Jollof rice, passing down the recipe to future generations, ensuring that the tradition lives on. And with every bite, I honor the memories we created, the laughter that echoed through our playdates, and the love that filled Mrs. Akintayo's kitchen.
Jollof rice, a simple yet powerful dish, has become a part of my identity—a symbol of home, love, and the unbreakable bonds we form through shared experiences. In its flavors, I find the echoes of my childhood, the warmth of friendship, and the richness of my diverse cultural heritage. Mrs. Akintayo's Jollof rice will forever be the key that unlocks the door to my heart, reminding me that no matter where life takes me, I will always carry home within me.