Fruits of the Harvest RECIPES TO CELEBRATE KWANZAA AND OTHER HOLIDAYS Eric V. Copage To my father, John E. Copage, who encourased me to dream. To my children, Evan and Siobhàn, for their prosperous future. And to those of African descent around the world and throughout history. CONTENTS Cover Title Page INTRODUCTION HOW TO USE THIS BOOK N S GUZO ABA APPETIZERS N S GUZO ABA SOUPS SALADS N S GUZO ABA MAIN DISHES N S GUZO ABA SIDE DISHES VEGETABLES BREADS N S GUZO ABA BEVERAGES N S GUZO ABA DESSERTS N S GUZO ABA EPILOGUE MENUS A Down-Home Kwanzaa Buffet for a Crowd MAIL-ORDER SOURCES PERMISSIONS GLOSSARY OF FOODS INDEX ACKNOWLEDGMENTS About the Author Also by Eric V. Copage Copyright About the Publisher INTRODUCTION Before eating, open your mouth. Proverb, Mauritania I was never a holiday kind of guy. Perhaps it was because we observed few holiday rituals of any kind. Although we put up a Christmas tree every year, there was no ceremony to it—no drinking of eggnog or listening to carols while hanging ornaments. To me the tree seemed more or less like another piece of furniture. Over the past few years, however, the holiday season has taken on a new meaning for me as my family sits at the dinner table the week following Christmas to celebrate Kwanzaa. This cultural observance for black Americans and others of African descent was created in 1966 by Maulana (Ron) Karenga, who is currently chairman of black studies at California State University in Long Beach. Kwanzaa means “first fruits of the harvest” in Swahili, but there is no festival of that name in any African society. Karenga chose Swahili, the lingua franca of much of East Africa, to emphasize that black Americans come from many parts of Africa. Karenga synthesized elements from many African harvest festivals to create a unique celebration that is now observed in some way by more than 5 million Americans. When I first told my wife I was thinking about observing Kwanzaa, she barred the way to our attic and said she’d never chuck our Christmas tree lights and antique ornaments. I told her that wouldn’t be necessary. Kwanzaa, which runs from December 26 to New Year’s Day, does not replace Christmas and is not a religious holiday. (We now celebrate both.) It is a time to focus on Africa and African-inspired culture and to reinforce a value system that goes back for generations. Like many people, I was introduced to Kwanzaa by chance, in late December a few years back. I was visiting the American Museum of Natural History when I heard the sibilant sound of African rattles. It was coming from a dance performance, part of the Kwanzaa celebration that has been held annually at the museum since 1978. The holiday didn’t make much of an impression on me then, but I returned to it after the birth of my son, Evan, in 1987. I wanted Evan to have a three-dimensional sense of his African heritage. I wanted him to experience the pride of learning about the sublime Russian poet Aleksander Pushkin, the extraordinary American composer Duke Ellington, and Alexandre Dumas, author of The Three Musketeers. I wanted Evan to learn about the West African medieval empires—Songhai, Mali, and Ghana—and about the African explorers such as Esteban, who traveled throughout what is now Arizona and New Mexico in the sixteenth century, and about inventors like the mechanical engineer Elijah McCoy (who was the original “real McCoy”). I wanted him to understand that through tenacity, hard work, and purposefulness —all of which are grounded in the African and African-American ethos—blacks have flourished as well as survived. I wanted to train Evan to look for opportunity, and to prepare for it. And I wanted to have a forum for showing him examples of past successes, and for showing him that those people inevitably gave back to the black community in particular and to the general community in which they lived. But how to do this? I could have made up some ritual. But then we’d miss the communal aspect, the idea that in households similar to ours people were involved in similar activities. We’d miss one of the major reasons for celebrating a cultural holiday, the hoped-for metaphysical bonding with other African- Americans. There is Black History Month, of course, which I’ve always enjoyed. I look forward to being enveloped for four weeks in the membrane of black accomplishment as it comes to me from special radio and television programs and is represented in the special displays in bookstores. But this Gatling gun approach to black culture, laudable as it is, seems to lack focus. And unlike other long observances—Lent, for instance, or Ramadan—Black History Month has no agreed-upon ritual, structure, or climax. I thought about my goals for Evan and decided that Kwanzaa was the best lens through which to view the landscape of the African diaspora and the lessons it has to teach. Because it is only one week long, and because of the ceremony, and because it climaxes with a glorious feast, Kwanzaa has an intensity and focus that provides the perfect atmosphere for my son to experience the joys of being black. Kwanzaa also has the celebratory aspect that will provide memories for Evan and now my daughter, Siobhan, to savor as adults and to pass on to their children. If you want to adhere strictly to the Kwanzaa program as Karenga conceived it, here is what you need to have and what they mean: 1. Mazao: fruits and vegetables, which stand for the product of unified effort. 2. Mkeka: a straw place mat, which represents the reverence for tradition. 3. Vlbunzi: an ear of corn for each child in the family. 4. Zawadi: simple gifts, preferably related to education or to things African or African-influenced. 5. Klkombe cha umoja: a communal cup for the libation (I like to look at this as a kind of homage to past, present, and future black Americans). 6. Kinara: a seven-branched candleholder, which symbolizes the continent and peoples of Africa. 7. Mishumaa saba: the seven candles, each one symbolizing one of the Nguzo Saba, or seven principles, that black Americans should live by on a daily basis and which are reinforced during Kwanzaa. On each day of Kwanzaa, a family member lights a candle, then discusses one of those seven principles. The principles, along with Karenga’s elucidation of them in 1965, are: 1. Umoja (Unity): To strive for and maintain unity in the family, community, nation, and race. 2. Kujichagulia (Self-determination): To define ourselves, name ourselves, create for ourselves, and speak for ourselves instead of being defined, named, created for, and spoken for by others. 3. Ujima (Collective Work and Responsibility): To build and maintain our community together, and to make our sisters’ and brothers’ problems our problems and to solve them together. 4. Ujamaa (Cooperative Economics): To build and maintain our own stores, shops, and other businesses and to profit from them together. 5. Nia (Purpose): To make our collective vocation the building and developing of our community in order to restore our people to their traditional greatness. 6. Kuumba (Creativity): To do always as much as we can, in whatever way we can, in order to leave our community more beautiful and beneficial than we inherited it. 7. Imani (Faith): To believe with all our heart in our people, our parents, our teachers, our leaders, and in the righteousness and victory of our struggle. The next-to-last day of the holiday, December 31, is marked by a lavish feast, the Kwanzaa Karamu, which, in keeping with the theme of black unity, may draw on the cuisines of the Caribbean, Africa, South America … wherever Africans were taken. In addition to food, the Karamu is an opportunity for a confetti storm of cultural expression: dance and music, readings, remembrances. Here is Karenga’s suggested way of conducting a Karamu as enlarged upon by Cedric McClester: 1. Kukaribisha (Welcoming) Introductory remarks and recognition of distinguished guests and elders. Cultural expression through songs, music, dance, unity circles, etc. 2. Kukumbuka (Remembering) Reflections of a man, a woman, and a child. Cultural expression 3. Kuchunguza tena na kutoa ahadi tena (Reassessment and Recommitment) Introduction of distinguished guest lecturer, and short talk. 4. Kushangilia (Rejoicing) Tamshi la tambiko (libation statement) Kikombe cha umoja (unity cup) Kutoa majina (calling names of family ancestors and black heroes) Ngoma (drums) Karamu (feast) Cultural expression 5. Tamshi la tutaonana (Farewell Statement) When my family lights the black, red, and green Kwanzaa candles the last week of December, we do so with millions other black Americans around the nation. Major community celebrations are held in just about every city that has any kind of black population: Atlanta, Chicago, Philadelphia, Milwaukee, Dayton, Durham, and Charleston, to name just a few. The people who celebrate Kwanzaa comprise a cross-section of black America. They include Catherine Bailey of Boston, a teacher who has been celebrating since 1969; Saalik Cuevas, a Puerto Rican—American computer programmer who is as proud of his African heritage as he is of his Spanish and Indian backgrounds; and Diana N’Diaye, a folklorist at the Smithsonian Institution. Audie Odum-Stallato, a cooking instructor and caterer, has invited non-African-Americans to Kwanzaa as her way of sharing African culture. There are others for whom the idea of sharing Kwanzaa with anyone other than a fellow African-American would be anathema. Some people, such as New York City caterers Carol and Norma Jean Darden, “Kwanzafy” their Christmas by using African-inspired Yuletide decorations and ornaments on their Christmas tree. Gwen Foster, an Oakland, California, social worker, also uses African-inspired Christmas decorations—including a straw wreath wrapped with red, black, and green ribbon that she hangs on her front door—in addition to holding a small Kwanzaa ceremony with her family on each of the seven days. Lincoln Pattaway and his family celebrate Kwanzaa in lieu of Christmas. Like Foster, the Pattaways, who live in Houston, also have an intimate family celebration—but on only one night of Kwanzaa. The other nights they do the town: We meet in different areas: in schools, community centers. One of the reasons we move around is because the city is so vast and you want to make it available to everyone. The historical society I belong to sponsors one night. The other nights are sponsored by other groups. During our last celebration, there were about two hundred people. It was standing-room- only. There are big banners and beautiful signs. There is also a table set the same way we would set it at home, with the candles, mat, fruit, and vegetables. Most people are dressed in African garb. We’re seated in front of the stage. Whoever is conducting the program for that night comes out to introduce themselves and the group. We are given a brief explanation of Kwanzaa. We light one of the candles and somebody speaks about that night’s principle. This year we sponsored self-determination (Kujicha of rice and beans and corn. After the seven days of Kwanzaa, we use that rice, beans, and corn to make the first meal of the year. We spend the whole day after Christmas setting up the Kwanzaa table and decorating the house. By sunset we are dressed in African clothes and ready to light the candle for Umoja. We pour a drop or two of water right on the rug for the ancestors. Then we pass around the cup. Traditionally I start it off since I am the eldest male in the household. We discuss the principle. For instance, I said last year that not only African-Americans need unity, but the entire human race needs unity, so that there won’t be war, poverty, and hunger. After that I’ll say a short prayer. It could be the Lord’s Prayer or an African prayer. Then we snuff out the candles, and that signifies the end of the ceremony for that day. The ceremony lasts about