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vsplusonline · 4 years

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How organizations & NGOs bringing change in patriarchal Haryana - Times of India

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How organizations & NGOs bringing change in patriarchal Haryana - Times of India

CHANDIGARH: With the slogan “aurtein uthi nahi to zulm badta jayega” in mind, various organizations and NGOs with baby steps are making small but impact change in patriarchal Haryana and aiming to create revolution in state which is popular for highest gang rapes in the region . They are aiming to shift cultural norms of the society. Some are working at micro level seeking to bring about change in behavior pattern of school going children and making them aware about gender sensitization and other related issues. Some are acting as pressure groups. Some are directly involved with the victims and survivors on ground level and helping them get justice by providing legal aid and other help.

Breakthrough “Jyada padh ke kya karna hai Rotiyan hi to sekni hein”,”Kaun sa inhe DC lagna hai”, “Jyada mat Padhao – Haath se nikal jayegi”, “Chulha Chouka Hi to Karna hai”, “Ladki Ki Kamaai Khaane wale Namard hote hein”. This is with these discriminatory statement that how most of adolescent girls are being socialized. Breakthrough NGO is addressing aspiration level and barriers in the communities which limits aspirations of girls. Breakthrough India, NGO, has been working for over six years in Haryana with different stakeholders to address issues of Gender-based sex selection, domestic violence sexual harassment, adolescent empowerment and early marriage and is reaching out to government officials, frontline health workers, youth in colleges and schools, while mobilizing public support for the cause at state and district level. Breakthrough India is working at three levels i.e., school, community and university level.

At school level they have penetration in 150 Govt. and Pvt. Schools and with PRIs, women groups, youth at community across four districts Panipat, Sonipat, Rohtak and Jhajjar, Karnal, Gurgram of Haryana with adolescent students on Gender Based Discrimination to address declining child sex ratio. They have enrolled 15000 school students and with research based module at Community level, they are capping people from age 19 till 25 whereby various issues like women, safety security, mobilization are being discussed. They also include Panchayat and other members of community to talk about various issues in open. Then at university and college level, they are organizing workshops and other events. They are taking use of Community Mobilization that use various interactive tools like Video and street Play to educate the masses about the nuances of gender based discrimination and how it leads to gender biased message to the public about; Aspiration of Girls and importance of girl child in families and Society. Anurag from Breakthrough shared that, “we are basically talking about shifting of cultural norms in the society and we are witnessing change as well.”

He further shared that with various campaigns launched by them, one biggest impact that they have witnessed is that negotiation skills of girls have enhanced, they have started negotiating on issues like going to college from school and university from college. Also there has been a change in behavior pattern of boys as they have also started sharing responsibility of household chores. Boys have started taking about rights of their sisters in family.

All India Dalit Mahila Adhikar Manch All India Dalit Mahila Adhikar Manch has been working in various districts of Haryana and have been helping put survivors of various crimes like rape, sexual harassment, domestic violence, atrocities against dalits etc. They have been providing legal aid and helping them get justice. Also they have been organizing various seminars for spreading awareness regarding legal rights of downtrodden. They have volunteers over all districts in Haryana and whenever any case is registered whereby Dalit is involved; their team not only gets involved in fact finding report on individual basis but also provide all kind of help to victim, survivor and their family. In many cases, FIRs have been registered due to their efforts.

Haryana Coordinator, Mohini shared that the official data regarding crime against Dalit women is underestimated and there has been mismatch between the figures and reality. Many time police even did not register the FIR and even if FIR is registered, much of time is consumed in addition of relevant sections under charges of rape, gang rape, POCSO Act and SC Act. Mohini also shared that district legal service authority also provides free legal counsel to all rape survivors but in reality the rape survivors are engaging their private advocates as the application to provide free legal aid does not get disposed off on time and hence rape survivors especially dalit rape survivors found it more difficult to seek justice as many of them are economically very weak and live hand to mouth.

All India Democratic Women’s Association (AIDWA) or Akhil Bhartiya Janwadi Mahila Samiti

This organisation is working for empowerment and uplift of women. They actually work like pressure group. They have volunteers in all over state and they have been providing all kind of help to women who have been victimized and work closely with rape survivors and make efforts to rehabilitate and normalise their life.

Speaking to TOI, state Secretary of Akhil Bhartiya Janwadi Mahila Samiti Savita Savita, State secretary mentioned that the status of women in society in Haryana is second class and hence incidents of rapes are considered very normal. This is the reason that the society of Haryana is accused sensitive and not victim sensitive.

The victim is always targeted and considered wrong. Counselling is there in law but in actual counseling is given to those victims whose cases get highlighted and in other cases, no one seems to care. Elaborating that how is life after rape for survivor in Haryana, Savita stated that in many cases the victim is pressurized and also in many cases she is not financially independent which is leading to victim turning hostile in many cases following which the accused are getting acquitted. Many factors come to play in story that how the rape survivor fights for getting justice. We are making small efforts survivors get justice.”

Team Lado Impact

Within short span of time Team lado, has made its presence felt in 28 villages of Bibipur, Gurugram and Mewat and expanding its activities in other village as well. Team Lado is dealing with various women issues by empowering women and also involving authorities. TOI met various members of Team Lado who shared their experience and their journey towards change

Team Lado is brain child of Selfie with daughter Foundation which has initiated strategy for the empowerment and awareness amongst women. As per this Outreach Programme, any girl studying in class 8 and above can become part of Team Lado. After tying up with various schools at villages of Haryana, lectures creating awareness of women rights is delivered and then these interested girls/women constitute a team with the name “Team Lado” for each village. This Team Lado from the village is doing various tasks like providing trainings on Women Rights. Most importantly this team then aware 5 more women from their village.

Team Lado has also been feeding the phone numbers of Deputy Commissioner and Police Superintendent of their respective district in the mobile devices of 10 women from the village so that in case of emergency these affected women can directly inform and approach the higher authorities. This team Lado is also providing information to Police Superintendent and the nearest police station in case of any discrimination or incidence of Domestic violence against Women in the village.

This Team Lado is also motivating and mobilizing the villagers to put the name plates with the names of the daughter in front of their homes to provide respect to their girl child. In the long run, this step shall be a symbolic attempt towards the objective of propagating Women Property Rights in the District. Chairman of Selfie with Daughter foundation, Sunil Jaglan said, “Girls should fight their own battle. Country has got the independence 70 years ago but till the time women will not come upfront and fight for their rights, they will never get complete freedom. Women need to rise up against the atrocities.” He also shared that team Lado make women aware of their rights and give them counseling how to fight or pursue their matter on their own. He shared that we just give them support and make sure that all the work is done by them so that they independent and confident.

In one of village of Mewat, Rajni (name changed) decided to break the routine of getting beaten up every day and raised her voice against daily domestic violence. She took up the matter with village Panchayat and later the Panchayat not only dressed down her husband but also in-laws who had been mere mute spectator to this and also gave final warning to them before reporting the matter to the police. This incident not only gave confidence to Rajni but also boosted morale of other so many “Rajnis” of the village who also raised their voice and spoke against Domestic violence in public. This change did not come suddenly. Rajni’s younger sister in law had become member of team Lado in school and she infect had made Rajni aware that she should not remain quiet and raise voice against this or even her daughter will have to bear this. Resultantly Rajni took initiative and hence changed happened not only her home but also in whole village. Now all these ladies are part of team lado.

In another village of Rohtak, Harshita (name changed) was pursuing her PHD but she was fed up with her Guide who used to message her at odd hours and then these messages took shape of “Sexting” which she could not tolerate and hence she gave compliant to the police and the guide was booked by police. Harshita now is a part of team Lado and also helping many girls who were becoming victims of this kind of situation.

In yet another Village of Mewat, two sisters got married in same family .Later the husbands and in-laws started harassing them .They were forcing them to leave the house but were not willing to give back the dowry money and other things. When both of the sisters came in contact with Team lado, they were first made aware of their legal rights and were counseled for taking appropriate action. They were also told to do everything on their own only then they would get the confidence. So from writing a formal complaint to police, to meeting lawyer to filing divorce case in court and pursing their matter, they are doing it on their own. Now the respective husbands are arrested by police and divorce court hearing is underway .One of the girl has started her studies again. The changes are not only seen at level of dealing with social issues. In Farukh Nagar Block of Gurugram, girls were facing problems as far as education was concerned. There was no good quality of books in Central library. Neha from The Team lado wrote to the administration following which the administration issued 72 lakh budget for the central library so that new books could be added to the library. Note: The writer is working on the issue of Sexual Assault and Life after rape under the National Media Awards Programme of National Foundation for India.

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foodtrails25-blog · 5 years

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Kadhi one of the most popular yogurt based gravy thickened with or without chickpea flour(besan) , prepared in minimum spices and tempered with fenugreek seeds/ mustard seeds /cumin seeds and curry leaves(optional) with chickpea fritters(pakora/pakodi)

Today I have here one of my favourite food. Kadhi Pakodi or Pakoda..I love Kadhi Pakora and I really miss Kadhi cooked by my mom. Whether I go to my parent’s house or she comes to our place this is one thing that we all want her to cook for us. Whenever I make Kadhi, my kids always tell me “why don’t you cook kadhi like naani(maternal grandmom)”. The kadhi made by her is so perfect !! the pakoras are melt in mouth and she doesn’t even add baking soda to it as many people add to the batter while making pakora for softness!!

Kadhi is a favourite comfort food among most of the Indians. It is very popular especially in the states of Uttar Pradesh(U.P), Haryana, Punjab, Rajasthan and Gujrat. Other states too have their own version. Each version is equally delicious and comforting with it’s own uniqueness. Kadhi from Gujarat is has a sweeter taste to it and it is made with or without besan/chickpea flour. In U.P it has a sour taste as it is made from Khatta dahi(sour yogurt). Punjabi Kadhi is very much similar to the one from U.P. In rajasthani kadhi no pakodi are added , also it is thinner in consistency and it is mainly served with Pyaz Ki Kachoris. Down in south India, yogurt based curries are popular but are made without the addition of chickpea flour and have different local ingredients like coconut.

The kadhi pakodi that I am presenting here s from U.P. I learnt this from my daadi(grandmom) and mom. My daadi used to make amazing kadhi and like my kids look forward to kadhi made by mom, we look forward to her preparation.

Traditionally we used khatta dahi/buttermilk for making it. In India, many people use homemade yogurt/curd. Every night they make a new batch. Due to the hot climate in India, the curd turns sour very soon . People avoid eating sour curd especially at night,as it is considered harmful to health.The leftover is stored for making butter and ghee. Buttermilk that is left from the butter preparation for ghee, is used for making Kadhi. The sour curd can also be used for making Kadhi. So, Kadhi is a weekly or fortnightly affair in many households.

The popular combination with Kadhi is Steamed Rice. But I like it even with chapatis. My mom always makes some Jeera Aloo along whenever she makes Kadhi. Kadhi Chawal(Kadhi and Rice) aur aloo ki subzi was one of our favorite weekend meal at my Mom’s house. My hubby was not a Kadhi fan when I got married, and I was like.’why doesn’t he eats Kadhi 🤷 but slowly and gradually he also has started eating it😉. My kids just love Kadhi Chawal but they like to have it without jeera aloo.

How to Cook Kadhi.

Kadhi means ‘to cook on slow flame”.Yogurt and chickpea flour mixture is cooked on slow flame till it thickens. When my grandmom lived in village she always cooked kadhi on Chulha a kind of earthen brick stove, though she had gas -stove too. It took around an hour or so to make it. But, the taste of the kadhi used to just so different and just so delectable.. Those who have eaten kadhi made on slow flame on chulla or have eaten at dhabas will agree with me. Still many people do that. Now a days, people don’t have much time so and also to save the wood and reduce smoke they cook on gas stoves, in a heavy bottomed kadhai or pan. And with the introduction of Instant Pot/Nutripot(in India) we can now cook kadhi under 30 minutes from start to end. After I have bought my Instant Pot I always cook Kadhi in it. This is how things change with time and technology!!

Pakora/Pakodi for Kadhi

Pakora/Pakori as chickpea fritters that we add to Kadhi. You can make plain fritters or can also add finely chopped fresh spinach/fenugreek/coriander cilantro leaves to it.

For Pakodi, make the batter of besan/chickpea flour,add caraway/ajwain seeds and salt. The batter should be of thin consistency. Many people complain that the pakodi come out hard To get soft pakodi, keep these pointers in mind while making pakodi.. you will never get hard pakodi.

To get soft and melt in mouth Pakodi, always beat the batter well. Just like the way we beat batter for Dahi Vada. The batter should be light and airy. This is the secret to making melt in mouth pakodi for Kadhi.

You can also add a pinch of baking soda if you don’t want to do all the muscle work!!

Drop the batter into hot oil and fry till medium brown. Drop small lumps of batter you can use a tsp for that. The batter swells up

To test whether the batter is light enough to fry and give soft pakodi, take water in a bowl, drop a tsp of batter in water. If it floats up the batter is ready.

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Making Kadhi

To make Kadhi we need yogurt/curd/dahi,chickpea flour or besan. Kadhi is made by mixing besan with yogurt and water along with turmeric powder, salt. You can add some red chilli powder also along with it. If you don’t like sour yogurt add a tsp of sugar to it.

I use mustard oil for making Kadhi and tempering it with fenugreek seeds and cumin seeds with hing or asafoetida. I also use garlic and onions for tempering kadhi when I cook it and also before serving it.

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To temper Kadhi in pan, heat mustard oil till it’s smoking point. Cool it a bit then add 1 tsp of asafoetida/hing. Add fenugreek seeds and cumin seeds along with whole red chillies. Once the spices give aroma, add coarsely garlic and green chilli(optional), saute till the garlic turns light brown. Add finely sliced onions and fry till onions are light brown. Add chilli powder if you want. Add the tempering to Kadhi and cover with lid for a while, till the aroma of spices and garlic infuses in kadhi.

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Few pointers to keep in mind to get the right consistency of Kadhi ..

Mix besan/chickpea flour well in curd. Take care it does not form lumps. If you get lumps strain it through a sieve..

If you are making Kadhi for first time, follow the recipes, later you can adjust the recipe as per your required consistency(thick or thin). Also, kadhi gets thickened once it starts to cool down. Add ,1/4 cup or as required lukewarm water to it before serving to get the right consistency.

Soak the fenugreek seeds a 2-3 minutes before preparing tempering. Drain water and dry the seeds on a paper towel before adding to tempering.

Once you add kadhi to pan to cook keep mixing it for first few minute, else it will curdle.

You can also add curry leaves to the tempering. Add a tsp of desi ghee before serving it. Ghee enhances the taste of Kadhi.

So let’s see my version of Kadhi Pakora..

Kadhi Pakodi/Pakora

Kadhi Pakodi recipe from Uttar Pradesh, Instant Pot and Stove-top recipe included. How to make delicious Kadhi a yogurt based soup recipe with (pakodi) chickpea fritters.

For Pakoda/Fritters

1/2 Cup Chickpea Flour

1/4 tsp Caraway Seeds/Ajwain

1/2 tsp Salt

Water to make the batter

For Kadhi

2 Cups Yogurt/Dahi/Curd (preferably sour)

1/2 Cup Chickpea Flour

1/2 tsp Turmeric Powder

Salt as per taste

4-5 Cups Water or as required

Make Pakodi

In a bowl add caraway seeds with besan and salt.

Add little water to mix the batter. The batter should be thick than the cake batter. Beat the batter for 4-5 minutes till you get fluffy batter.

Take water in a bowl and drop a tiny potion of batter. If it floats on top, batter is ready for making fritters.

Keep aside the batter of 5-10 minutes. Meanwhile heat oil in a kadhai to fry the pakodi.

Drop tiny portions of batter in hot oil and fry till golden in color. Do not fry on high flame else pakora will stay raw from inside.

Once done, take out on kitchen towel and keep aside.

Make Kadhi

Soak Fenugreek seeds in water fro 5 minutes. Just before using for kadhi preparation drain water from the seeds and dry these on a kitchen towel. This way seeds won’t turn black while sauteing and also won’t splatter when we add wet seeds to oil in pot.

In a mixing bowl, add yogurt, chickpea flour and salt. Mix together, till no lumps remain. Add water and mix well. Ensure no lumps are there in the mixture.

Kadhi in Instant Pot

Switch on the SAUTE MODE of Instant Pot on and set the timer to 10 minutes.

When the display shows hot, add oil in the inner pot. Add asafeotida , whole red chilli and fenugreek seeds.

Add finely chopped or coarsely crushed garlic and green chilli. You can also finely chop garlic.

Add finely chopped onions and fry till onions are translucent. Cancel the saute mode.

Add the yogurt and chickpea mixture slowly into the pot, and stir it continuously for 2-3 minutes. set the SAUTE mode ON again, set time to 5 minutes.

Keep stirring kadhi for another 2 minutes. Wait till it gets a boil. This will take another 5 minutes.

Stir again and cancel the SAUTE Mode, cover the lid and set the SOUP Mode ON. Keep the Pressure on LOW and set timer for 12 minutes.

Once the timer goes off, wait for 2-3 minutes and then do a manual quick release(QRP). Check the thickness of Kadhi.

If the Kadhi is thin as your liking, cook Kadhi for another 5 minutes on high. If the Kadhi is thick, add around 1/4 or more warm water to kadhi and mix. Add Pakodi to kadhi.

Kadhi on Stovetop

Take a heavy bottomed kadhai, add ghee/oil to it. When the oil is hot enough add hing, fenugreek seeds, garlic and green chillies.

Add finely chopped onions and fry till onions are translucent.

Add the yogurt and chickpea mixture slowly into the pot, and stir it continuously for 2-3 minutes., till a boil comes. Lower the flame to minimum.

Cook Kadhi for another 20-25 minutes or till it thickens. Keep stirring in between. Add pakodi to kadhi.

Prepare the tempering

In a pan add mustard oil/desi ghee. When the oil is hot enough add a pinch of hing, cumin seeds and 1 whole red chilli(optional).

When the seeds crackle, add finely chopped garlic, saute till light brown, add red chilli powder. Saute for a few seconds and add tempering to Kadhi.

Close the Lid of Instant pot or cover kadhai for few minutes till the aroma of tempering infuses in Kadhi.

Serve hot with a tsp of Desi ghee added, ith Steamed Rice or Chapatis!!

I use Mustard Oil for Making Kadhi for that..

When the display shows hot, add mustard oil in the inner pot. Heat the oil for another 1-2 minutes or till it’s smoking point.

You can use any vegetable oil/desi ghee for making Kadhi.

Adding water to the yogurt and chickpea mixture depends on the thickness of yogurt and and chickpea flour. Add 4 cups water to 2 cups of yogurt and adjust afterwards as required.

Skip Onion and garlic to make it no-onion no-garlic recipe.

To make it gluten-free, skip asafeotida.

So, do try my version of Kadhi Pakodi either in Instant Pot or on stove top kadahi, I am sure you will surely like it. Hot Kadhi with steamed rice with some onions on side is for sure a comforting treat. I make a big batch of Kadhi and usually keep it at least for myself for the next day. I can even have it like a soup with any rice or chapati. I feel Kadhi just like Dal Makhani tastes better the next day. Temper it again with a pinch asafoetida, cumin seeds and red chilli powder before having it.

You can make it without pakodi or add some boondi to it, if you are on low-fat diet or don’t like to add pakodis in it. Make Pakodi in Appe Pan if you have, for the non-fried version.

Skip garlic and onion for no-onion no-garlic version and for the gluten-free version skip asafoetida.

Linking my Kadhi Pakodi recipe to my Foodie Monday Bloghop Facebook group for the theme #191DahiDelights, suggested by Priya Iyer who blogs at The World Through My Eyes.Do check her blog where she has some amazing recipes from South Indian and Gujarati Cuisine.

Also,do check what my fellow bloggers have brought to the Dahi Delights!!

Hope you will love my version of Kadhi Pakora as much as we love it!! Do give it a try.

Visit my social media accounts and say hello to me there… FB, Pinterest and Instagram. Whenever you make this,do post on my FB page or tag me on Instagram. Pin the recipes for later use.

If you like my work, then do hit the follow button and subscribe to the blog to get notifications on new posts and share the blog with your loved ones. I promise won’t spam your mailbox 🙂.

Thanks for stopping by!!

Kadhi Pakodi Kadhi one of the most popular yogurt based gravy thickened with or without chickpea flour(besan) , prepared in minimum spices and tempered with fenugreek seeds/ mustard seeds /cumin seeds and curry leaves(optional) with chickpea fritters(pakora/pakodi)

#featured #Kadhi #North Indian Cuisine #Uttar Pradesh Cuisine #vegetarian #Vegetarian meals

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krisrampersad · 7 years

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My Discoverie Columbus Lost and Found from New World To Old LettersToLizzie Sneak Preview

Dear Lizzie,

I discovered Columbus when I was about four years old and then I lost him again to rediscover him one fine sunset, his parts cut up and scattered across my world and yours, the way he cut up our continent and our peoples that became Your Majesty’s Empire.

Early explorations

I still remember the expression on his face. Pa looks baffled. So far, he is able to answer all my questions that end-of-July morning - the kind of morning that begins with sunshine warming the weathered unvarnished wooden gallery, bathing it in soft light and lending a calm cosy to the holiday feel. But every farmer’s daughter knows – if she took the time from the more pressing global inquisitionings – a day like this could brew thunder and torrential rains by mid-afternoon.

I must have agitated him, this early morn. He asks me to bring him a cigarette – his brand, named after an avenue in the city - and a box of matches.

I hand him a Three-Plumes match from its yellow box, a product of Trinidad Match Limited since 1887, it reads. I could read. Before that it was just a yellow box with red markings, and the dark red scratch sides. Reading material was scarce in rural Trinidad so I had taken to reading anything I could find and that usually was the packaging of any item. I would later learn that 1887 was the year Parisiens began to lay the foundation for the Eiffel Tower; and that Britain passed the Act to unite Trinidad with Tobago as it celebrated the golden Jubilee of Queen Victoria, just like your recent jubilee celebrations, and ours, Liz.

Pa scratches the match against the side of the box like my sister would, some years later, do a scratch lottery. It flares over the edge of the cigarette and flickers out, leaving a light stream of smoke behind it. He put it to his lips, leans back, closes his eyes and draws hard on the tobacco that has soothed many a shamanistic and other agitated spirits for millennia. It has also attracted as gold many-a-pilferer, marauder and cutthroat pirate to our parts from yours, as you well know, Dear Liz.

It is rare discovery for me as a child - Pa at home at this time of a morning. He is usually long gone by the time we are up, usually awake from 2 am. We would know from his deep coughing, caused by a head cold he caught working as a forester in his younger days which would hasten his end of days. By peek of dawn he would have already left for the vegetable garden or to the market to sell its produce that was our main source of income.

Now, facing the onslaught of curiosity, he is perhaps wishing he had kept this routine and head out early as I bounce around him in the early morning trying to get answers for these enormously challenging thoughts of universal import that collide like meteors in my child’s mind.

“So how did Columbus discover Trinidad?” The question pops into my head and pops out of my mouth as questions tend to do from near-four year olds. I am conjuring up a pale man in fancy pants, frilly shirt and embroidered waistcoat with funny wavy white hair dripping down to his shoulders as I had seen in my sisters’ history book. Reading material was often limited to their text books and I would take sneak peaks, thumbing through them to see the pictures. They open-up the windows of my imagination.

In my child’s mind, Columbus is now unfurling - from over our island and pulling onto his ship - an enormous sheet bellowing out with the wind. I had watched many times as Ma or one of my sisters made our beds, shaking out a freshly washed bed sheet. It would bellow out, before settling on the bed. The process of covering and uncovering and surely discovering too, was a normal household routine.

Though he never complained nor showed annoyance, it is the kind of question that probably made Pa, the object of my incessant questioning, wish I was in that place where all precocious youngsters are sent so someone else would answer their impossible questions about how the world works - school. I am not yet enrolled in any of the illustrious British-styled public schools – the legacy of your Governor Lord Harris and subsequent governments, Lizzie - which were sure to offer the answers to these impertinent thoughts of an infant. The closest ones are just about a mile in any direction to one of which I was destined to walk to and from, sometimes barefooted, over the next seven years – tall punishment for a few questions – talk about how curiosity kills the cat, as schools kill curiosity!

Ma calls out to me. She ladles out boiling cocoa from a big iron pot resting on the mud fireside with a metal kalchul which she bought from Mawah in Princes Town. She would go to the town just to chat with Mawah’s mother, leaving me to wander around looking at all the curiosities in this shop that seems to have everything, including the traditional wooden kulcha, and flat wooden dablas used to turn roti on the chulha, dhal ghotnis of all sizes – wooden swizzle stick with zig-zag edges on its round base and the biggest enamel basins and iron pots one could imagine.

The utensils for its preparation might have evolved, but not centuries and several languages and cultural adaptations could alter cocoa, the pre-Ice Age plant, more than 21,000 years old, and its primordial connections as food of the gods across world cultures. Even European botanists could find no better substitute than to translate its value - Theobroma (Theo/god; broma/food) and the echo of its ancient MesoAmerican/Caribbean, pre Olmec, preMayan roots: kakaw with slight variations in inflections: Theobroma cacao. Today, its most common global identification as chocolate still echoes its ancient primordial resonance. Once Columbus helped Europe discover it, there was no turning back. Cocoa now covers some 17 million acres of global soil, with nearly 4 million tonnes produced every year. It has become the foundation of Swiss identity, and a catalyst for the centre of social interaction in kingdoms far and wide. A global strategy for the conservation and use of cacao genetic resources as the foundation for a sustainable cocoa economy now guides an International Cocoa Organisation, an international network of cocoa producers and International Cocoa Genome Sequencing Consortium who meet annually to upgrade strategy, redefine directions for the future of chocolate, its by-products and co-industries.

Though no longer a formal currency as it was used in mesoAmericans - about 100 beans could then get one a finely handwoven shawl - with increasing scientific evidence that it reduces high blood pressure and can positively impact cancer and cholesterol rates, I’m sure, Liz, that you concur with women the world over who testify that this remains one of god’s essential provisions of heaven on earth.

To the steaming cup of fresh cocoa, its oil already forming a film around the edges of the cup, Ma adds a touch of bliss. She tilts the condensed milk can into a bluey-green enamel cup, stirs it and hands it to me.

‘Careful, it hot!’ she warns, nodding in Pa’s direction. Ma is not one for much words.

I walk back to the gallery tentatively. The oil, temporarily disturbed, returns to curl around the edges of the cup. The aromatic steam of cinnamon, clove, bayleaf, nutmeg and cocoa drift out and up. You would agree, Dear Lizzie, in that moment, it is not difficult to understand why Europe turned half the world upside down, raided east and west, and went to war for the likes of this.

I hand the cup to Pa and run back into the kitchen. Ma hands me a smaller version of the same bluey-green enamel cup, with own serving of ‘cocoa tea’, though that in itself may violate indigeneous practice that reserved enjoyment of cocoa for ritual use only by men who fought nations for the privilege - the second of four Anglo-Dutch wars was fought over cocoa, in England’s favour, in the 1660s and on which the wealth of the likes of the Dutch East India Company was founded then trading its primary wealth in cocoa beans. As was most other pleasures of primitive planet-of-the-apes type cave-men, cocoa, too, was considered toxic for women and children.

Not so in our wooden dwelling. Ma had spent most of the night grinding the chulha-parched cocoa, adding cinnamon and bayleaf and grated nutmeg, Taking handfuls of the ground cocoa, moist with its own oils, between her palms, she had lovingly moulded them into oval shaped balls. They are already hardening this morning and by tomorrow, before boiling, we would have to grate it on the grater Pa made from pounding holes closely together with a nail onto a piece of galvanise, bending it into a semicircle, and nailing its edges against a short, flat piece of wood.

The still lingering aromas of last night’s cocoa production hang on the wooden floors and walls of the entire house and spill out to envelope the village in the way the porridge from The Magic Porridge Pot had crept out of the house in that Enid Blyton book I would later read.

Pa didn’t seem to think I am violating any gender taboos, either, when I reappear with my own cup of steaming cocoa, which seems to me, on hindsight, a very patriotically appropriate way to commemorate one of the last Discovery holiday days Trinidad and Tobago would know. Indigeneous to Trinidad, the Trinitario is one of the world’s three main varieties of cocoa – a unique offspring of our geo-botanical connections with the South American mainland as a more resilient, higher yielding and natural hybrid of the two others – Forastero and Criolla. For Your Majesty’s information, our cocoa might be old world Americas, but had produced another New World hybrid - the cocoa panyols, an ethnic group of intergenetic mixes between native peoples and other migrant streams who joined them here – Your Majesty’s people, Europeans, Africans, Indians and others.

On this July 31 morn both Pa and I are unaware that it would be some years yet before Apple computer technologies would name its application programme interface (API), cocoa.

The steam from his cup of hybrid cocoa is beginning to subside. Pa takes a sip, inhaling deeply its aroma. I have never seen him this relaxed.

“Why he not up yet? Wake him?” I ask Pa, nodding in the direction of my brother’s room, hoping for chance at an excursion to visit some other part of Trinidad on this holiday. As my brothers and sisters grew older, our wooden house was expanded over the years: a room added here, a corner boarded in there, and this was a new room my brothers and his friends added at the end of the gallery.

Pa’s answer triggers the steam of questions from my condensed milk-sweetened, cocoa-lubricated tongue.

As he had every Sunday afternoon, my brother had routinely polished the silver angel with its transparent plastic pink-tipped wings perched on the bonnet of his baby blue Cortina taxi the day earlier, before he also lathered the entire car, and himself, to be covered in white soap suds. Sometimes he would cover his whole face and head in suds and try to scare us. He succeeded once when he sneaked up on me. I screamed so loudly, that I stumbled over a root of the enormous chenette tree in our yard in trying to run away from him as he looked like a jab jab from a Carnival band.

Native to our part of the world, the chenette tree, like cocoa, also predates Columbus by thousands of years, and its fruit is known in various pronunciations as genip across South Central America and the Caribbean. The more melodramatic injections into its nomenclature occurred when European botanists wrapped their tongue around its sticky pulp. Discovered for Europe in Jamaica and named by Patrick Brown as he had 103 other genera in the mid-1700s, Brown, an Irish botanist who worked as a doctor across the West Indies also produced A Civil and Natural History of Jamaica until our oh-so-inhospitable-to-Europeans clime sent him a-packing as it has a few others, like the man who invented television whom we will discover later. Brown gave chenette its botanical name, Melioccus bijugatus which was subsequently described and placed in its soapy genus group by Dutch-born Austrian, Nikolaus Joseph von Jacquin who has an orchid named after him; had Mozart teach music to his children and named a couple of his pieces after them, and in honour of whose work in the Caribbean, Austria in 2011 issued a special commemorative silver coin issue.

The Spanish dubbed it limoncillo/mamoncillo in some of their territories. Contented to translate rather than rename, the English called it Spanish lime another characteristic misnomer as it is, Liz, most unlike a lime or lemon, as an apple is from an orange. I believe this is the origin of the application of the Trini word ‘lime/liming’ as a pasttime of ‘doing nothing’ or hanging out with friends. The towering chenette tree in our yard was a village icon. A piece of wood nailed to its trunk formed a bench and under its soothing cool became the district’s social hub – for liming, all fours card games and even serious meetings; informal craft groups; Hindi, Bhajan singing and other classes, and village events planning – all right in our front yard. That might be also the original meaning of the word community leadership, until it was endowed with other connotations decades later.

I did not know any of that technical stuff, then, nor that chenette was a fairly substantive source of calcium, carotene and phosphorous, when as children we sucked the pulp or roasted the seeds, and so indelibly stained our clothes much to Ma’s displeasure. We noticed too, that its stickiness restricted our tongues, but that it also had a constipation effect, also to Ma’s displeasure. She would have to spend sleepless nights as we complained of stomach pains from having gorged too much, though she made sure she had adequate supplies of seina leaves to administer when necessary to relieve constipation. I hear on the grapevine, Liz, that roasted chenette seeds are now gaining currency as a treatment for diarrhoea.

Loved and hated, the tree contributed substantially to our chores as we had to daily sweep up masses of its constantly shedding leaves. Our water copper, used to boil sugar at one time in the once thriving sugar industries, but now serving as our fresh water reservoir, had to be protected from its droppings as it sat directly under the tree. My younger brother and I would splash around in its massive bowl on weekends before emptying it, scrubbing off any moss that had accumulated around its edges and then refilled it with fresh water and covered it with galvanise.

“Why he not up yet,” I ask again, growing impatient as the beautiful day seem to be slipping away.

I am curious as to why my brother is not stirring in the room in the gallery. He is usually up and out while it was still dark, in the predawn, to take villagers in his Cortina to their workplaces in ‘town’, Princes Town - named, Lizzie, as you know, for your grandpa George V and grand uncle Edward after they visited as princely lads. It was known as Kairi to the native peoples who find Columbuscrawling up our coast, as indeed was the entire island, when Columbus was doing his discovering, until Spanish Catholic missionaries gathered them around a church and school and renamed it Mission. At the time of your grandsire’s visit, Lizzie, it was then little more than a few scattered shacks with the church and school set up by Spanish Catholics. A later school and church, set up by missionaries from your then North American colony – Canada - will conjure up the old name, Iere, but shortly after their visit, it was proclaimed Princes Town, a name it still holds.

It must please Your Majesty to know that the two poui trees the Princes planted in the yard of the Church of England in the town also still stand, 134 years later. So far they are winning the battle to resist the giant tropical termites whose Queen, leading her colony of nymphs and soldiers, are constantly waging war, threatening to make a meal of the princely pouis.

Princes Town itself has grown into its name, and out of it too – maybe ready for city status even, if the powers that be would take note - as it is now aggressively edging off what used to be the lush tropical rain forests described by your writer-traveller, Charles Kingsley who, At Last, made it here for A Christmas in the West Indies in the latter half of the 1800s. It must have been his writings that brought your grandsires here; and certainly too, geological reports of the 1850s eruption of the mud volcano at what the Spanish had labelled Devil’s Woodyard that had also attracted Kingsley. The indigeneous people’s had long worshipped at it for its connections with the mysterious underworld that provided the trees, fruits and roots that nourished them. The boggy soil and forested district did not deter Kingsley continuing the journey to Devil’s Woodyard, but your grandsires were waylaid by the pomp of planting of the pouis, as you may know since it is part of the Royal lore.

Princes Town now continues to encroach on the once-canefields that provided the raw materials for the sugar, molasses and rum factories that augmented British waistlines and coffers. You may want to know, Lizzie, that this town, named for your grandsires, has done the empire proud, with reputedly the highest numbers of drinkers in the country – one of your Empire’s enduring legacies in these parts from the practice of paying estate workers near rumshops - but that’s for another letter, to come.

But it was not rum in my Pa’s cup this July morn. I’ve never known him to be excessive with the bottle, but he didn’t abstain either. He is drawing patience from the aromatic, freshly brewed cocoa in the enamel cups Ma bought from the lady in the store crammed with enamel and other household paraphernalia in Princes Town. Ma and the lady would stand for hours chatting away in Bhojpuri while I wander around the overstocked shop.

Though they never spoke the Trinidad-adapted Indian language, nor Hindi, to us, both Pa and Ma could read and write Hindi. They could both read and write only a smattering of English and by that were defined as illiterate. So this conversation on this morning about our Discovery with my Pa is in your mother tongue, Liz; which Pa and Ma had adopted for us, though it was not their mother tongue, in which, if I may humbly point out, Your Majesty, versed as you are in one of some of the European languages, might yourself be considered illiterate.

The oil from the cocoa hangs on to the top of Pa’s lips, forming an artificial moustache on his hairless face and head. It made him look funny and a laugh is trying to force its way through the many serious questions on my lips. I held it back - the laugh; it is the questions I can’t stem from pouring out.

I have never known Pa to have hair on his face, nor head either. The baldness makes him look stern at times. Villagers call him The Sheriff and sometimes I knew why. His grey eyes would blaze right through you when his lips tremble and his voice raise in anger. In those times I know not to ask the questions about how the world works that popped into my head and onto my tongue as somethings more perplexing must be troubling him. Like how he would feed his family because someone had crept into the garden that night and stole all the crops he had nurtured over the last months which he hoped to sell so we could have what household things we need. I’d bite my lip to keep the thoughts in, then.

Not now. This mild morning, sipping his home-made cocoa, he is as mellow as the Eastern spices in it.

“He not going to work because it is a holiday today,” he is answering my question about my brother’s late-sleeping, while I try to suppress my giggle over the milk-moustache over his upper lip. An unusual quiet hang over the village, serene, without the routine morning bustle of people getting ready of school, for work. Few others are stirring, taking advantage of this ‘holiday’. My mind is on high drive.

“What holiday?” I ask, perked.

“Discovery Day.” He even seems a bit happy, then, to be home to sagely field the curiosity of his youngest daughter; you will understand anew, Liz, as you have a couple lil great grand royal ones around that age now added to your household.

“What is Discovery Day?” The questions keep popping out of my head, spilling onto my tongue and out of my mouth, even before I know they are there.

“It is the day Christopher Columbus discovered Trinidad.” Pa had never gone to one of the British-type schools but he always knows all the answers, it seems. And though he could not read any of the storybooks, which are my presents on birthday and Christmas, he could talk about any topic under the sun, I thought, and he could recite the whole Ramayan in its strange Sanskrit or Hindi text and explain the strange parables in the lines as villagers often called on him to do. And he could study any Whe Whe chart with their strange Chinamen faces and letters and tell what number would play at the man they called ‘the banker’ who functions from a secret place because Whe Whe is illegal and police is always searching for the law-breakers like him.

Pa was no longer with us in the mid-90s when the post-Independent Trinidad and Government introduced a legal machine-driven version of the game which licence operator through a selective process. The traditional version, still illegal, has remained popular; the official version has the audacity to often complained that it takes about fifty million $TT (five million Great Britain Pounds) away from the State every year! Maybe if he was still around with the million-dollar jackpots we could win a million or two; or I could have won him a million or two. Here’s how.

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Pa liked to bet on my dreams. He said I had ‘straight dreams’ and would even send me to sleep in mid-afternoon so I could tell him what I dream for the evening betting session, as the Whe Whe banker ‘opened the bank’ morning and evening. As he didn’t scoff at whatever my overactive imagination churned up in my dreams, he made me confident of dreaming. I guess he neverthought I would make a career of this dreaming thing. He would ask me for a number to bet on and would always place a bet on my choice saying I gave him straight wins. That made me warm inside, like freshly boiled cocoa tea sweetened with condensed milk. When I helped him win a bet he would give me a five-cent coin; or if it was a big win, a shilling, which I popped into the wooden piggy bank that did not look much like a pig. He had made it for me with the small slit at the top to throw in the coin and a wedge at the bottom that twisted out to let the coins drop out. With those savings, I could buy myself whatever I wanted for Christmas or anytime, no questions asked. As I began to read, ‘anything’ was almost invariably story books, of course, like The Magic Porridge Pot. Even before starting school, I was already an avid listener to my sisters reading to me, and to unending epic romances Pa would roll out night after night, mostly from some secret store in his imagination that none of us can remember, though it was a childhood experience that none of us can forget.

I guess he thinks that his last answer, ‘Discovery Day’, would quell my questionings. He lights another Broadway. I know it as his favourite brand because he would send my brother or sisters, and me when he thought I was old enough to walk the road alone, to Ganesh, the village shopkeeper, to buy. On days when market sales were good he would buy a whole carton. We would know to ask for DuMaurier, instead, only when Braodway was out of stock because the sales van only came into the village once a week.

Though smoking tobacco seems now to be more identified with the Frenchman, Jean Nicot de Villemain, (hence nicotine) who took it to the French court in the mid 1500’s after Columbus introduced it to Europe following his discovering it on his first voyage in the region the natives called Haiti, but which Columbus called Hispaniola, my father was participating in a 7000-year old kingly shamanistic tradition of the Caribbean and the Americas - a tradition now practiced by nearly two billion people across the globe, despite an intensive and powerful anti-smoking lobby. One can sniff new tensions in the air as recent research and development suggests smoking as a potential cure for high blood pressure, asthma and tuberculosis. A new odourless, tasteless white protein extract from its leaves promises to be every masterchef’s dream ingredient as a salt-free, fat- and cholesterol-free low-calorie substitute for mayonnaise and whipped cream and can take on the flavour and texture of several foods and beverages.

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Oblivious to all of that, engrossed in inhaling, Pa is unaware that smoking tobacco was considered - by the people who first inhabited our soil before Columbus and his bunch decimated them - a divine gift. They believed its exhaled smoke carried one's thoughts and prayers to heaven. Pa looks the part, shamanistic, dreaming and relaxed as if communing with some higher authority as he ease back on the wooden bench he had made with his saw, chisel and smoothing plane. I had gathered up the chippings that fell of the plane and put them in the fowl coub, as we called it, behind the house. My fowl pet had just had chicks – eight little yellow delights that I would feed on scraps of left over roti and rice while talking to them about the unfolding mysteries of the universe. I had a pet goat too, that I untied and took to graze on roadside grasses on evenings. There was much to do, but first I had to finish with this inquisition.

I absorb his answer: ‘Today, Discovery Day, was the day Christopher Columbus discovered Trinidad.’ Something did not fit there. My chick’s mind isn’t sure what it is. I know Christopher Columbus from the picture with the three triangle ships in my sister’s school book. Once, when I am visiting some relatives, one of their children had a Ladybird book about Columbus. He is in fancy pants and long shoulder long white ‘hair’ which I would later learn was a wig that fancy Europeans and massa-like Trini people in courts and the Parliament like to wear. In the picture book, Columbus’ shirt is bellowing in the wind. He looks soft and effeminate as European men in their garb of that era. His three ships of varying sizes are on the sea behind him. Black haired, wide-eyed, brown people are peering at him from the bushes. Maybe it is they who discovered him; not he discovered them. That’s how thought pop into my head and out of my mouth.

“So how Christopher Columbus discover Trinidad?”

My question brings Pa back from where he had gone with the warm cocoa inside him and the cigarette already nearly half done.

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He looks at me. “You would know all about that when you start school.” It did not cross my mind that he did not have an answer and that the question was baffling many others more than my own child’s mind.

Pa calls out to Ma. “You ready?” That is his cue for her to accompany him to the garden – having for the morning, already finished washing the clothes of all of us, prepared breakfast and made lunch too, cleaned the house and washed the dishes.

My rare morning discovering our Discovery with my Pa at home is over. I scramble up to accompany them to the garden, not waiting to be asked; secretly hoping that might get some more answers.

The giant bedsheet bellowing out from over the island and collapsing on Columbus’ ship settle in my mind’s eye, before which also swirls experiences of cocoa, chenette, and tobacco, all of which predated Columbus’ discoverings, and the eastern spices and we who came thereafter.

When the sun rose that July 31, it was only the dawn to a near lifelong quest for my holy grail – knowledge of it all, and uncovering the puzzles of the discovery of Trinidad that was before Columbus discovered then. It has taken me to many parts and through many sunsets.

Even though Discovery Day has been wiped off the calendar, he still haunts the landscape, and is stamped on national emblems inspiring the false knowledge that marked his own Discoverie, and mine.

One fine sunset, then another, then another, I gathered and pieced together the skeletal knowledge in the bones he had scattered all over the Caribbean from Puerto Rico through Cuba, Santo Domingo, across Jamaica and your colonial archipelago to Trinidad, from Mexico to Argentina, and the Americas and across in Europe through Barcelona and Seville and Italy, Portugal, and Spain, as discovered, too, Columbus’ own bones. Scattered in pieces and fragments in which he cut up our land and our history and our Discovery in the blood soaked soil still violently echoing in the bones of ghosts in their sleep-walking dreaming state they tell one story. But for me gathering the pieces, like our collective story, they spoke to me of the yet undiscovered El Dorado, at treasure trove of buried knowledge echoing down the ages even now, through little known corridors and crannies, the knowledge bridge from Columbus to us that can soothe and calm like cocoa balm when cocoa is no longer god, nor king, but you still a Queen, Your Majesty, Dear Lizzie.

****

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Feb 26, 2014 This Demokrissy series, The Emperor's New Tools, continues and builds on the analysis of evolution in our governance, begun in the introduction to my book, Through the Political Glass Ceiling (2010): The Clash of Political ... http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Envisioning outside-the-island-box ... - Demokrissy - Blogger Feb 10, 2014 This Demokrissy series, The Emperor's New Tools, continues and builds on the analysis of evolution in our governance, begun in the introduction to my book, Through the Political Glass Ceiling (2010): The Clash of Political ... http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Demokrissy: Futuring the Post-2015 UNESCO Agenda Apr 22, 2014 It is placing increasing pressure for erasure of barriers of geography, age, ethnicity, gender, cultures and other sectoral interests, and in utilising the tools placed at our disposal to access our accumulate knowledge and technologies towards eroding these superficial barriers. In this context, we believe that the work of UNESCO remains significant and relevant and that UNESCO is indeed the institution best positioned to consolidate the ..... The Emperor's New Tools ... http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Demokrissy: Cutting edge journalism Jun 15, 2010 The Emperor's New Tools. Loading... AddThis. Bookmark and Share. Loading... Follow by Email. About Me. My Photo · Kris Rampersad. Media, Cultural and Literary Consultant, Facilitator, Educator and Practitioner. View my ... http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K

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thegeneralsdirection · 7 years

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Goa is often called a ‘hippie’ paradise. That label may have different connotations for different people, but it is not a term that endears me to its people.

They are generally smelly, dreadlocked, entitled white people who complain endlessly about the residents of the country they are guests in and always complain about paying local businesses a fair fee.

These very same people will setup a stall in a Goa market and charge western prices for a T-shirt and say ‘fixed price’. My race can be a little exhausting at the best of times:) I find the way that they flock to a peaceful and picturesque location, take over a place and then complain about the locals, to be dubious at the best of times. Their sanctimonious rantings will put the most pious of priests to shame. I found a lot of other Facebook pages filled with the endless complaining only an expat can truly express, as if their new chosen home would be so much better if it wasn’t for the damn locals.

I have made it clear that this prejudice is well cemented, so Goa was perhaps not the most obvious of choice for a 7 day break.

Do not misunderstand me, I love travellers who explore the world and have a deep respect for those who do so on a shoe string budget. I adore people with a sense of adventure and who see the world with wonder. I appreciate explorers who are brave enough to settle in new lands and establish themselves in their new communities. I respect the these brave souls and I am fascinated to hear about the world from their perspectives. They are authentic, they mean what they say and they drive me to be more adventurous and above all they always respect the local residents in whose country they find themselves. Along this vein I was led by a friend, Peter to a Facebook page Goa Way Adventures which is a treasure trove of information. This page really was a great help and good point of departure as I started planning Goa.

Goa with its endless Russians, Hippies, cattle and crafty locals was still a place of magic for me. Somewhere I can imagine returning to soon; the beaches, the people and the food has crawled into my heart. The smell of frying spices lingering in the air and the subtle sound of Hindi music to put your soul at rest. I am by no means a restful person, but I did unwind a little on this trip.

Here are my top 10 Hits for GOA

Go for a cooking class

There are many options from a quick interactive demo to an intensive Goan cooking syllabus and an equally varied selection of schools. We went with convenience on our second night as our hotel offered a cooking lessons with the chef. The restaurant was called Chulha; meaning clay oven. You are invited through two hours before opening while they prep, to learn and explore the flavours unique to Goa. The chefs let us decide which dishes we wanted to make and then we were guided from beginning to end on how to produce these wonders. We had the suis chef and pastry chef assisting us with these perilous tasks.

We selected Chicken Tikkah (my favourite), Goan Fish curry (obviously) and Jalebi (Theron’s favourite and probably his favourite part of the whole trip). The Tandoori oven is needed to get that Tikkah chicken cooked and charred by the charcoal, but we will give it a try with a webber and report back to its efficacy. After cooking we were served our handy work and damn it was good, even if I do have to say so myself. The crispy, buttery garlic naan certainly did help. This has been a continuation of my deep love affair with naan, this love is a life long affair.

Spend a day on the beach

The main reason for trekking this great distance into the Asian mainland is the beaches. Goa, the state, is essentially a long strip of beaches from north to south, interspersed with a few cliffs and a harbour. Goa is divided into two parts; the north which is busier and more vibey and the south which is more tranquil. Each beach has its own appeal and depending on what you are looking for, there is a beach for you.

A day on the beach is fairly simple process; you find a shack on the beach, which is a temporary structure built for season with loungers and tables on the sand in front of it. You find a lounger and lie in the sun while the establishment brings you cocktails, beers and all the Goan food your heart desires. There are some true gems serving the best freshly caught fish and some more dodgy venues and it is not always easy to pick, but that is part of the adventure. The use of facilities is included in the drinks and food, so it is really very reasonably priced. There are ladies with sarongs, fruit and jewelry walking by so even shopping can be done from that lounger. Our favourite shack Xavier’s had massages and Hennah on offer which really meant you could stay there all day. Lying there on a lounger you can watch the world go by, cocktail in hand.

There is no excuse to not get a daily massage, especially from a man in a tropical shirt. The advantage of the callused hands is a part exfoliation and part massage.

Yoga

In theory I did yoga every day, I was up early and watched the sun rise as I posed my way to relaxation and inner peace. In theory I focussed on my breath and used my breath to heal and relax. In theory. In reality none of this happened, but you should still do lots of yoga in Goa. In theory or in reality.

Eat Goan food

Let us just clear one thing up so we can cut the needless hysteria. If you are ordering Mutton chances are you will be eating goat. Accept that and you will be just fine. Goat is a great low-fat meat and makes for excellent Vindaloos and slowly stewed curries. Also life is Naan and heaven is garlic Naan; that is all!

The factors that makes Goan cuisine unique are the strong influence of the Portuguese settlers who held Goa as a colonial territory from 1510 and only fully recognised its accession into India in 1974 and its close relationship with the sea. My absolute favourites were the Vindaloos and seafood curries, but I really did not have a bad meal. Every single time we sat down to eat it was a feast of the senses.

Life in Goa is ABE – Always Be Eating

I love spicy food and constantly had to reassure the poor waiters to not be scared with the spice. We had one waiter in particular who had served was so concerned that we were not ready for the spice that he came to apologise before bringing us the food as he was concerned for our delicate palates. The place was Xavier’s in Baga and the Chicken Vindaloo, Jalfrezi, Chicken Tikka Masala and Raj Darbar kept us coming back for more. All this flavour is soaked up by the Jeera rice and scooped with the ever-present garlic naan. Just typing this is making me salivate

See the sites

Goa is not all beaches and parties. (I am lying, it really is all beaches and parties)

Goa has a rich history and a melting pot of cultures and religions. The Portuguese colonisers left their stamp in this state with Catholicism making up 25% of the population. The majority do identify as Hindu and this mix has led to some beautiful architecture and delicious food

I trip to a spice farm will round off your understanding of Indian food nicely.

Rent a ‘jeep’

Taxi’s in Goa are a rip-off. There is no uber and the taxi’s don’t use their meters. We lived in central Goa and a 9km trip to the beach took an hours drive and 1800INR per direction. Renting a car made sense to the four of us. I also admittedly always like renting a car as it is in my south african blood; that sense of independence. This being India and the beach it had to be an SUV and roofless; the Mahindra is called a ‘jeep’ in India, so that fit the bill perfectly.

We had such a blast cruising around Goa in this thing with music pumping through our one speaker and with Google Maps in hand. My missing aux jack on the iPhone 7 did mean my music was not on the menu, but luckily between Mark’s lounge music, Theron’s 80’s classics and RnB tunes and Eugene’s EDM beats they had us covered.

The rental process was bizarrely informal and I would hate to know what happens if anything goes wrong. I called a phone number I found on Google, asked for a ‘Jeep’ and was quoted 2000INR per day plus a 300INR delivery fee. I accepted and 15 minutes later the car was delivered at the Hyatt, with fuel level at ZERO. I gave the chap my ID Card which he would keep and paid half the rental cost in cash. I took a video of the car to detail any damage and off the he went, no contract and no receipt. The car served us well for the 7 days and I would not go without next time either. Note you do need an International Drivers license to rent/drive a car in India and also there is only 3rd party insurance and this can be a risky exercise.

Befriend a cow

Fairly self-explanatory. In Goa cattle walk around like packs of relatively well-loved ferrel cats. They scavenge trough the garbage on the side of the road and walk along the roads or on the beach and for the most part are left alone. If they become a nuisance a local might chase them a little bit, but nothing to aggressive. In some states in India they are not allowed to be chased at all, but here in Goa the slaughter of cows will result in a 2 year imprisonment. Cattle are traditionally seen as holy creatures of God in Hinduism and their slaughter is generally considered taboo.

Get some henna done

or a tattoo. I am on Reaccutane for basically two years now, so no tattoo for me sadly. I had to go for the Henna option, else I’d be there in front of the line to get inked

Party the night away

I am old and clubs are noisy. I use to be young and clubs were fun. These are facts I cannot get around. Goa is the EDM party capital so one must attend one of these all night raves, so we did as we should and bought tickets for a three-day EDM party festival. Sadly/Luckily depending on your perspective this particular drug and rhythm fueled festival was a total non starter and after witnessing 5 empty dance floors with the most epic views of the ocean we decided it was perhaps best to retreat back to our resort.

Go to a market

Goa is renowned for its markets with its Indian trinkets, beautiful textiles and handmade jewelry is in abundance. Haggling is part of the ritual of shopping in these markets. I cannot stand haggling so I normally just point to the things I like and let my husband get the transaction concluded, however I inevitably feel so guilty for paying so little for these gems that I just pay them more anyway.

The most famous markets are the Anjuna Wednesday market where you can buy from the locals for bargain prices and end up on the beach for a beautiful meal and the Saturday Night Market in Arpora where you can buy a beer, a pizza and meander around the endless maze of stalls while listening to local bands. The textiles and locally manufactured artisan goods are something to look out for.

I do not really buy a lot of crap on holidays. I despise curios; there is nothing more soul-destroying than a big ben fridge magnet or a Eiffel tower key ring. That being said nobody has enough sarongs, vests and holiday bangles(this could be a topic for a future blog)

a little piece of my heart stayed in Goa:)

We are discussing a return visit and how it should be done. Next time I will avoid the big Hotel and book a villa on the beach.

10 things you must do in goa before the apocalypse Goa is often called a 'hippie' paradise. That label may have different connotations for different people, but it is not a term that endears me to its people.

#eat #goa #Hyatt #sea #shack #sun #vindaloo #xavier

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