By Carina Cutillo
My Journey Before South Africa
In 2018 I gave up eating meat. I wish it was for a valiant reason, so many of which exist, but quite frankly I did it because my best friend said one day “what if we went vegetarian?” This challenge sparked a six-year stretch without meat. When it began, I wasn’t thinking about the animals necessarily, the carbon footprint, the antibiotics, anything. Instead, I was doing something that I continue to hold quite highly today: bonding over food.
In 2019, I visited China and Hong Kong with my family. I was staunchly vegetarian at the time. I lived on fried eggplant and chili peppers, albeit a delicious dish that my dad and I eventually mastered at home. Watching my family try new dishes that pushed them out of their comfort zone, and being an adventurous eater myself, I was jealous of their experience. But I was determined to stay perfectly vegetarian. To the point that when our lack of Mandarin got the better of us, and we ordered a prawn soup thinking it was vegetarian, the tiny fish brought me to tears. My streak was broken. I was a bad vegetarian.
I laugh about it now, and I’m grateful that my mindset has evolved over the years. My reasons for having a conscious diet shifted from peer pressure to purpose. Now my decisions revolve around combating the industrialization process that destroys land, and reduces animals lives and value to meat production. But consciousness, to me, is not black and white. It doesn’t take being 100% vegan to understand the issues in the animal product industries. Anyone who is trying in this regard, even just to deepen their understanding, is doing the right thing in my eyes.
Exploring South African Cusine, Slowly and Steadily
When I was setting off to South Africa, I didn’t look for a black and white answer about my diet. All I knew was that I didn’t want to limit myself. To me, so much of travel and experiencing new cultures can be lost when you don’t experience the food, as food has an incredible ability to sustain and bring people together.
The first few weeks I was there I stayed vegetarian. For most people in the office, this was unusual. The South African diet is rich in meat. Different cuts than we use here in Canada and often more creative and useful of the parts of an animal itself. My coworkers kindly questioned why I don’t eat meat. I explained lacklustre story and told them, never say never. But still, I struggled to find the right time to break my habit.
What finally did me in was my wonderful first host, Olga. She welcomed me like family and gave me all the necessary advice to navigate living in Joburg. She even continued to check in on me after I left, and I knew I could always go to her if I needed help. The value of our connection was priceless through my internship.
We had spent the day at the local market where she runs a ginger beer stand, and she wanted to thank me for my “help” – although I did little more than sip on ginger beer and tell people how nice it was – advertising, I suppose. As a show of her thanks, she made me stew, rice, and a delicious dessert called a peppermint crisp tart. She told me “I know you don’t eat meat, but I threw some chicken in there just in case.” Little did she know, but this was the perfect opportunity for me to dive back into the world of meat-eating. After that, I embraced the adventure – trying new meats, stews, and dishes I’d never even heard of.
Meals As Memories
Many meals were unforgettable. Like the stop with my coworkers Ntokozo and Katlego after a visit to the Lindela Repatriation Centre.1 Katlego showed us a local spot in Soweto, the buzzing township which has housed some of South Africa’s most globally recognized figures including Nelson Mandela and Trevor Noah. The place was tucked away, with only one item on the menu, telltale signs that a great meal was about to ensue.
When the food arrived, we dug in all together. We didn’t need cutlery, as you use the pap, flattening it with your hand, to pick up chunks of liver and heart. Ntokozo and I raved about that meal my entire internship and it remained a talking point for the three of us. They had both been so excited to show me their traditional food and, even more so, to experience it with me. I am deeply grateful to have had that moment.
In an attempt to return the favour, I introduced my team to a new spot for a farewell dinner. The place specializing in Chinese Hot Pot which had become a go-to spot for me and the other McGill interns, Faith and Tuviere. It was a full circle moment for me as I missed out on the hotpot experience in China, but I could now share it with my team. (Though credit goes to the previous interns, Justin and Alexandre, for recommending it.)
Our dinner was delayed by an emergency. It was an all hands on deck situation that reminded me how much dedication, urgency, passion, and sacrifice is required of the workers at Lawyers for Human Rights. When we finally did arrive, I’d argue the wait, and the bonding it brought, made the food even more delicious. Most people on my team had never tried hotpot. Some were even skeptical. But I can say for sure we all left with full bellies and full hearts that night.
Final Reflections
Meals are sacred, and, in my opinion, provide an unparalleled opportunity to connect with others. I have had several experiences over this past four months where I sat down with a stranger and left with a friend. Meals that have given me lasting memories. That is the beauty of sharing food, and although I hold that it is an individual choice, I’ll never regret broadening my horizons in South Africa—eating meat, and through it, authentically experiencing the food, as an integral part of the culture, and ultimately deepening my connections with those around me.
- I would be remiss to overlook the dilapidated, overcrowded and unjust conditions of this facility. Andon the topic of food, it’s important to know that based on LHRs experience, detainees here are often fed only two meals a day, and that even those are relatively inedible. This goes against the guaranteed standards of just and dignified detention, especially to those held on administrative charges, of which deportation matters predominantly are. Several people held at Lindela have even expressed their preference for prison. ↩︎