Food and Culture
Kikarenla Jamir
A young Naga woman connects with her Indigenous identity through the art of cooking while studying away from her homeland.
I come from the Naga Indigenous tribe of Northeast India. We have been identified as a minority and recognized as “the Other” because we are different from the “mainlanders” of India physically, ethnically, culturally, and geographically. This is the story of my journey living in a big metropolitan city far away from my homeland and of how I developed a new relationship with the Indigenous food that is an integral part of my cultural roots. My story is about the search for home in a non-native land that is very different from what I considered “home” and about the feeling of alienation that I experienced living among people who are culturally different, look different, dress differently, and eat differently. My journey is that of a “misfit” who struggled to assimilate into an alien society and about the search for similarity and familiarity in a place where there was none.
I developed a new relationship with the Indigenous food that is an integral part of my cultural roots.
Nagaland, where we Naga live, is a land of rich culture and diverse food habits. The Nagas are perceived as the “people of the hills” who relish organic produce from either farms or kitchen gardens and savor good rich food. The spices most used in the kitchen are locally grown ginger and garlic, fermented soybeans, and freshly fermented bamboo shoots. Food is prepared and eaten soulfully, so it enriches both mind and soul. Understanding this mind–body connection deepened my love for my culture and kept me close to my roots as I pursued my academic journey away from my homeland.
When I first moved away from home, the privilege of relishing Naga cuisine was a distant dream in a foreign land. Living in mainland India as a student, I was rooming in a hostel where the housing authority did not allow me to cook or use a kitchen. They did, however, provide me with an electric hot pot, and that one-liter electric appliance became the kitchen I used to cook the food that I grew up eating at home. As a Naga, I am used to steam-boiled food without oil; anything that is stewed with fresh herbs is delectable to us. I am accustomed to the taste of freshly fermented bamboo shoots, smoked fish, and smoked meat. Although these spices and foodstuffs were not available on the mainland, I could somehow source them from my hometown and make do with what little I had.
One of my hostel mates, who was also from Northeast India but from a different state, would join me in cooking and eating, and together we would relish every bite. The commonality that we shared through our food habits made us feel at home in a place where we were looked at as outsiders. It was a personal, beautiful feeling of looking forward to an elaborate lunch every weekend. The smell of roasted spices cooked in a tiny cramped room brought us closer to our cultural roots. The aroma of the hot simmering dishes wafting in the air made us proud of our ethnicity and diversity.
The differences between our northeastern food habits and the mainlanders’ food habits were not easy for me to adjust to. The unique smell of my food — the smoked fish and meat, the pungent, fermented spices — was an aroma very close to home for me, but I was aware that it might be unpleasant to my other hostel mates and might create an uncomfortable environment for those living close to my room. I would brainstorm on different ways to prevent the aroma from spreading to the other rooms. It was a tedious task but nevertheless a worthy one for me.
Isolated from the others, my hostel mate from northeastern India and I were seeking solace through food. It is always painful to be away from loved ones, but it is even more painful to be in a foreign culture. That painful experience helped me realize the richness of my culture. The aroma that oozed from my small electric pot would take all my worries away. It was a respite from the stress I shouldered as a PhD scholar. Sometimes, I would tuck my work away to savor a home-cooked meal. I remember the hot soup sprinkled with natural herbs I enjoyed on a rainy evening and the comfort it provided when I felt under the weather.
I believe that food is culture, and I tried to transplant my culture’s food habits into my new environment as a student. The rich diversity and variation in Naga cuisine instilled in me a sense of pride in and understanding of my own unique culture. Through Indigenous food, I developed my consciousness and created a space of home and belonging in an alien city. My difficult experience brought me closer to my roots and to my culture, which are the core of my identity.
Kikarenla Jamir is an assistant professor at ICFAI University, Nagaland, Northeast India. She has a PhD in English literature and is passionate about teaching young minds. As an educator who is proud of her Indigenous culture, Kika aims to be an active storyteller and share her rich cultural heritage.
