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From "Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teaching of Plants" by Robin Wall Kimmerer

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From "Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teaching of Plants" by Robin Wall Kimmerer

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Dear teachers, please read the following excerpt from Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer (full citation below). We hope this inspires you to start your own journey of incorporating Indigenous knowledge and wisdom as it pertains to nature, crop production,  sustainable farming and food security. Students can learn a lot from plants, and not just about the topics listed above. Discussions range beyond the scope of agriculture and sustainable living- it changes societies, cultures and our habits. Students gain perspective about their world, both natural and social through what they are taught. Bringing in traditional Indigenous perspectives into the discussion can help them grow both as a collective and as individuals.
Excerpt
"The Three Sisters:
It should be them who tell this story. Corn leaves rustle with a signature sound, a papery conversation with each other and the breeze. On a hot day in July- when the corn can grow six inches in a single day- there is a squeak of internodes expanding, stretching the stem toward the light. Leaves escape their sheaths with a draw-out creak and sometimes when all is still, you can hear the sudden pop of ruptured pith when water-filled cells become too large and turgid for the confines of the stem. These are the sounds of being, but they are not the voice.

The beans must make a caressing sound, a tiny hiss as a soft-haired leader twines around the scabrous stem of corn. Surfaces vibrate delicately against each other, tendrils pulse as they cinch around a stem, something only a nearby flea beetle could hear. But this is not the song of beans.

I've lain among ripening pumpkins and heard creaking as the parasol leaves rock back and forth, tethered by their tendrils, wind lifting their edges and easing them down again. A microphone in the hollow of a swelling pumpkin would reveal the pop of seeds expanding and the rush of water filling succulent orange flesh. These are sounds but not the story. Plants tell their stories not by what they say, but by what they do.

What if you were a teacher but had no voice to speak your knowledge? What if you had no language at all and yet there was something you needed to say? Wouldn't you dance it? Wouldn't you act it out? Wouldn't your every movement tell the story? In time you would become so eloquent that just to gaze upon you would reveal it all. And so it is with these silent green lives. (...)

...Plants speak in a tongue that every breathing thing can understand. Plants teach in a universal language: food. "

KIMMERER, ROBIN WALL. BRAIDING SWEETGRASS: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants. S.l.: MILKWEED EDITIONS, 2013.

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A New York Times Bestseller
A Washington Post Bestseller
A Los Angeles Times Bestseller
Named a "Best Essay Collection of the Decade" by Literary Hub
A Washington Post "2020 Holiday Gift Guide" Recommendation
A Minneapolis Star Tribune "2020 Holiday Book Recommendation"
A Book Riot "Favorite Summer Read of 2020​"
A Food Tank Reading Recommendation for Fall 2020
Updated with a new introduction from Robin Wall Kimmerer, the hardcover special edition of Braiding Sweetgrass, reissued in honor of the fortieth anniversary of Milkweed Editions, celebrates the book as an object of meaning that will last the ages. Beautifully bound with a new cover featuring an engraving by Tony Drehfal, this edition includes a bookmark ribbon, and five brilliantly colored illustrations by artist Nate Christopherson. In increasingly dark times, we honor the experience that more than 350,000 readers in North America have cherished about the book-gentle, simple, tactile, beautiful, even sacred-and offer an edition that will inspire readers to gift it again and again, spreading the word about scientific knowledge, indigenous wisdom, and the teachings of plants.

As a botanist, Robin Wall Kimmerer has been trained to ask questions of nature with the tools of science. As a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, she embraces the notion that plants and animals are our oldest teachers. In Braiding Sweetgrass, Kimmerer brings these two lenses of knowledge together to take us on "a journey that is every bit as mythic as it is scientific, as sacred as it is historical, as clever as it is wise" (Elizabeth Gilbert).

Drawing on her life as an indigenous scientist, a mother, and a woman, Kimmerer shows how other living beings-asters and goldenrod, strawberries and squash, salamanders, algae, and sweetgrass-offer us gifts and lessons, even if we've forgotten how to hear their voices. In a rich braid of reflections that range from the creation of Turtle Island to the forces that threaten its flourishing today, she circles toward a central argument: that the awakening of a wider ecological consciousness requires the acknowledgment and celebration of our reciprocal relationship with the rest of the living world. For only when we can hear the languages of other beings will we be capable of understanding the generosity of the earth, and learn to give our own gifts in return.

Indigenous, Nature, science, Native American, traditional ecological knowledge, Natural history, Ecology, botany, plants, essays, environment, spirituality, nonfiction, life sciences, spiritual, teaching, wisdom

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Robin Wall Kimmerer is a mother, scientist, decorated professor, and enrolled member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation. She is the author of the New York Times bestselling collection of essays Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants.

Robin Wall Kimmerer is a mother, scientist, decorated professor, and enrolled member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation. She is the author of the New York Times bestselling collection of essays Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants.

American conceptual artist Jenny Holzer is no stranger to addressing the biggest issues of our times through art. In the...

Join Robin Wall Kimmerer at Door County Library for the Write on Door County Reads 2024.

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A New York Times Bestseller A Washington Post Bestseller A Los Angeles Times Bestseller Named a "Best Essay Collection of the Decade" by Literary Hub A Washington Post "2020 Holiday Gift Guide" Recommendation A Minneapolis Star Tribune "2020 Holiday Book Recommendation" A Book Riot "Favorite Summer Read of 2020​" A Food Tank Reading Recommendation for Fall 2020 Updated with a new introduction from Robin Wall Kimmerer, the hardcover special edition of Braiding Sweetgrass, reissued in honor of the fortieth anniversary of Milkweed Editions, celebrates the book as an object of meaning that will last the ages.

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The Teaching of Grass by Robin Wall Kimmerer

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The Teaching of Grass by Robin Wall Kimmerer

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Robin Wall Kimmerer is the author of "Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teaching of Plants."

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Robin Kimmerer - Mishkos Kenomagwen: The Teachings of Grass | Bioneers

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The following document and linked videos will assist teachers in the process of getting their urban garden or school/classroom gardens started while including Indigenous wisdom and perspectives on the matter of sustainable farming, crop production, nutrition and food security.

In order to access the content, please download a QR code scanner onto your mobile device. There are many different versions available. Nonetheless, we have attached a selected few below:
Androids:
QR Code Reader Free - QR Reader For Android: link
QR & Barcode Scanner: link
Apple: How to scan Qr Codes with your camera app: link

Compiled by Joanie Beaudoin and Lyndon Efford.

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Embracing Indigenous cuisine and nutrition

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Embracing Indigenous cuisine and nutrition

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Indigenous knowledge and perspectives about sustainable crop production and agriculture aren't limited to the action of planting and harvesting crops. Students can learn about the value of nutritious food through traditional indigenous recipes and cuisine as they learn about subsistence and local farming using native to Canada plants and crops. Students can learn about the diversity of these recipes and their nutritional, cultural and traditional backgrounds post-harvest of their own crops and fruits. A great place to start looking for Indigenous culinary inspirations and experience starts with your local area and or communities.

Montreal:
Mi'kmaw chef Norma Condo has opened her restaurant and catering business on November 2018 in Montreal 's Pierrefonds borough. She has been an inspiration for many Indigenous communities and locals as she transmits healthy and nutritious meals. Chef Condo seeks to inspire clean eating and nutrition; the outsourcing of local and native to the land ingredients. Having spoken to her about the concept of urban gardening and building gardens in our local schools while incorporating Indigenous knowledge, she was inspired and expressed the importance of teaching future generations about the value of food, sustainable living, eating and farming. She spoke about her Three Sisters Salad as a great place to start teaching students about Indigenous perspectives on food and how with just a few simple crops we can feed an entire community and end food insecurity. You can purchase and support her local business by purchasing her own Three Sisters salad amongst other delicious meals, feed your students and other guests as your pupils learn to make their own Three Sisters salad's using her or other Indigenous recipes as inspirations.

Miqmak Catering and Indigenous Kitchen Chef Norma Condo's restaurant:
Facebook: @chefnormacondo
Website: Miqmak Catering Indigenous Kitchen: Link

Below you will find an article about Chef Norma Condo and her restaurant.

For a french article and news story about her restaurant and inspirations click the following linK : Radio-Canada

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Mi'kmaw chef Norma Condo's motto throughout life has been "don't give up" and it's paying off as she prepares to welcome hungry customers at the grand opening of her restaurant, Miqmak Catering Indigenous Kitchen.

It will be the only Indigenous-owned restaurant on the island of Montreal, according to Aboriginal Tourism Quebec.

"It hasn't really sunk in yet," said Condo.

"It's been my passion. I'm here for all the other Indigenous people because I know there's nothing like it around here."

Condo is from Gesgapegiag, a Mi'kmaw community on Quebec's Gaspé coast, about 500 km east of Quebec City. She's been running a catering company out of the restaurant in Montreal's Pierrefonds borough since November 2018, and will be opening up the small dining room as of June 29.

Laurence Lainé, a representative of Aboriginal Tourism Quebec, said she's happy to see Condo's business flourishing and for an Indigenous-run restaurant to open its doors in Montreal.

"Montreal is the main door for tourism, so to have a presence in this big city is very good for Indigenous tourism," said Lainé.

"There is not a lot of representation of culinary restaurants in the big cities, but it's the right place to catch a lot of people's attention and interest regarding traditional cooking."

Serving Indigenous cuisine

Condo will be serving a set menu of Indigenous plates at her restaurant such as wild rice, a three sisters casserole of corns, beans and squash and her favourite, bannock, or luskinikn in Mi'kmaw.

"That's what our ancestors left behind for us. Most of my recipes are natural roots ingredients and that's what our ancestors used. I'm going to continue that tradition," said Condo.

The one thing missing? Moose meat.

In most provinces, it's illegal to serve wild game in a restaurant. In 2014, Quebec launched a pilot project offering game to select chefs under strict rules of approved hunters, inspections and approved abattoirs.

It doesn't leave any options for chefs like Condo, who receives moose meat from hunters in Gesgapegiag.

"I can't serve it out of my own restaurant, unfortunately," said Condo.

"It's sad for all the indigenous chefs out because that's our food."

Her community's food is where her interest in cooking stems from, watching her grandmother make traditional meals for their large family.

"My grandmother inspired me to what I'm doing today," said Condo. "She always told me not to give up."

The mother of five's journey to become a chef has not been an easy one. Condo overcame many obstacles to complete an 18-month culinary program in Montreal, including the death of her husband just weeks before the program started.

"Not giving up as brought me to a lot of open doors, and look what I have today," she said.

"This has been my passion, this has been my dream to have my own kitchen and serve Indigenous people."

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Bannock lovers rejoice! Mi'kmaw chef opens Indigenous restaurant in Montreal | CBC News

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Mi'kmaw chef Norma Condo's motto throughout life has been "don't give up" and it's paying off as she prepares to welcome hungry customers at the grand opening of her restaurant, Miqmak Catering Indigenous Kitchen. It will be the only Indigenous-owned restaurant on the island of Montreal, according to Aboriginal Tourism Quebec.

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Introducing traditional Indigenous culinary experiences into our classrooms is a fantastic way to explore alternative options to the current food culture which has taken its toll on our society's health, well-being and overall has produced an immense disconnect with the natural world and our connection to the nutritional aspects of food.  While teaching and learning about the value of the natural world and the foods we grow through urban-style gardening in our schools, and or dedicating crop production and tree planting areas on school grounds, introducing students to indigenous peoples culinary traditions that have been a staple since time immemorial, can not only help support healthy and clean eating but can also encourage social and cultural reconciliation between the nations.

The following website will allow you to explore the different Indigenous restaurants and eateries and encourage those who travel from coast to coast, to take the time to explore what they have to offer. Remember, your students will one day become those travellers, if they aren't already-by introducing them to Indigenous traditional cooking will give them the necessary curiosity and hunger to learn from and about Indigenous culinary traditions.

Other resources:
The Food Network: 12 Tasty Canadian Indigenous Restaurants
Quebec Aboriginal Tourism: Flavours at their Purest

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Inspired by the land, oceans, and forests across diverse landscapes in Canada, contemporary Indigenous cuisine has fast catapulted into the mainstream. Based on living in balance with your surroundings, respecting all forms of life and giving back to the earth, traditional Indigenous cuisine revolves around no-waste, head-to-tail cooking. Now Indigenous chefs are pushing boundaries and innovating by adding contemporary touches to traditional plates. For those who wish to sample Indigenous cuisine, here are 12 food experiences not to miss, from coast to coast to coast.

1. Salmon n' Bannock Bistro

Indigenous owned restauranteurs are showing urban visitors how to taste the flavors of the land without leaving the city. Order braised free-range bison back ribs or wild sockeye salmon dinner at the popular Salmon n' Bannock bistro, in Vancouver, or try the fresh bison burger or butternut squash bannock pizza at Feast Café & Bistro in Winnipeg.

2. Nek8arre Restaurant

Take a guided tour of the Huron Traditional Site on the Huron-Wendat reservation just outside Québec City, followed by a traditional lunch at the on-site Nek8arre restaurant; try the wapiti medallions or deer steak.

3. Keenawaii's Kitchen

Book a meal at the iconic Keenawaii's Kitchen on Haida Gwaii archipelago off the coast of British Columbia, where Chef Roberta Olson serves dishes like dried herring roe on kelp, grain bread with rhubarb relish and octopus balls.

4. Shakat Tun Adventures

Trips with Shakat Tun Adventures in Yukon share a meal potlatch-style, a ceremony of sharing, community, and kinship. In the remote Kluane region of the Yukon, snack on traditional dishes as you share stories, song and dance around a bonfire.

5. Eskasoni Cultural Journeys

Learn to make four cents cake, a traditional flat bread, with Eskasoni Cultural Journeys in a Mi'kmaq community on Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia; it has been a favorite snack for thousands of years.

6. Arctic Bay Adventures

Munch on muktuk, a traditional Inuit delicacy of frozen whale skin and blubber and sip a cup of tea made with chips of an iceberg on an Arctic Bay Adventures tour that takes you to the floe edge of the remote Baffin Island in Nunavut.

7. 7th Fire Restaurant

Watch for the opening of 7th Fire restaurant by Saskatchewan Chef Rich Francis, a Top Chef Canada finalist who is redefining Indigenous cuisine; a member of the Tetlit Gwich'in & Tuscarora Nations, he showcases a menu that is a "pre-colonial culinary expression."

8. La Traite Restaurant

Dine at La Traite restaurant at the upscale Wendake hotel, a short drive from Québec City, featuring cuisine with ingredients that have been hunted, fished or gathered locally; think Western bison tenderloin and Arctic char with red pepper and artichoke tapenade.

9. Wanuskewin Heritage Park Restaurant

Learn about Northern Plains people at Wanuskewin Heritage Park in Saskatoon, and sample delicacies such as bison stew and Muskeg tea-battered whitefish and chips at the on-site restaurant.

10. Spirit Bear Lodge

Feast on traditionally prepared wild salmon at Spirit Bear Lodge in the ancestral lands of the Kitasoo Xai'xais, as orcas and sea lions swim by your window while you dine on a 12-foot solid cedar table inside this longhouse-inspired lodge.

11. Great Spirit Circle Trail

Learn to make bannock over an open fire and sample berries harvested from the lands of Manitoulin Island with the Great Spirit Circle Trail in northeastern Ontario.

12. Grey Eagle Resort & Casino | River Cree Resort & Casino

Chef Bill Alexander at Grey Eagle Resort & Casino on Tsuut'ina First Nation in Calgary and Chef Shane Chartrand at Sage Restaurant at River Cree Resort & Casino in Edmonton, are two Indigenous chefs bringing new flavor and traditional touch to Alberta casino resort properties. Customized event banquets featuring traditional game foods, local ingredients and flavors from the land are the resorts of the future.

More restaurants

About the Author

Dené Sinclair

Dené Sinclair is ITAC's Director of Marketing. She lives and works in Winnipeg on Treaty 1 Territory and the Homeland of the Métis Nation. She acknowledges her traditional homeland around Selkirk, Manitoba (St. Peter's Band) as a member of Peguis First Nation and a proud Anishinaabekwe.

Read More from this Author

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Indigenous Cuisine From Coast to Coast to Coast | Indigenous Canada

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Inspired by the land, oceans, and forests across diverse landscapes in Canada, contemporary Indigenous cuisine has fast catapulted into the mainstream. Based on living in balance with your surroundings, respecting all forms of life and giving back to the earth, traditional Indigenous cuisine revolves around no-waste, head-to-tail cooking.

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Decolonizing Diet: Healing by Reclaiming Traditional Indigenous Foodways by Monica Bodirsky and Jon Johnson, November 17, 2008

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Decolonizing Diet: Healing by Reclaiming Traditional Indigenous Foodways by Monica Bodirsky and Jon Johnson, November 17, 2008

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Article.

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Abstracts

Abstract
Abstract
Traditional Indigenous foodways remain important for the ongoing health and well being of contemporary Indigenous North American peoples. Drawing partly on primary research on food-related knowledge and experience within the First Nations community of Toronto, the authors trace how colonial policies of assimilation attempted to destroy Indigenous knowledge and in so doing spawned numerous trans-generational health consequences for Indigenous populations, which are still felt today. While colonial attempts at assimilation seriously undermined the integrity of traditional Indigenous foodways, today this cultural knowledge is undergoing a resurgence. Contemporary Indigenous peoples have expanded upon oral traditions with written stories of food gathering and recipes as a means to revitalize food knowledge, cultural integrity and community -- all inextricably linked to health. As such, the authors argue that fostering the resurgence of traditional Indigenous knowledge about food is a necessary in healing the trauma emerging from colonialism. Indigenous cookbooks provide opportunities to share information about traditional culture and food knowledge along with the recipes more conventionally associated with cookbooks.

Résumé
Résumé
Les pratiques alimentaires traditionnelles restent importantes pour la santé et le bien-être des populations autochtones contemporaines en Amérique du Nord. À partir de travaux de recherche portant sur les pratiques et les connaissances alimentaires au sein de la communauté autochtone de Toronto, cet article se penche sur les nombreux problèmes de santé trans-générationnels qui résultent de la destruction du savoir autochtone orchestré par les politiques coloniales d'assimilation. Bien que ces tentatives d'assimilation coloniale aient sérieusement ébranlé l'intégrité des pratiques alimentaires autochtones, on assiste aujourd'hui à une résurgence de ces connaissances culturelles. Les traditions orales sont maintenues et renforcées par les populations autochtones contemporaines qui développent une littérature autour de recettes traditionnelles et de récits de cueillette comme moyen de revitaliser la connaissance culinaire, l'intégrité culturelle et le sens de la communauté, tous intimement liés aux questions de santé autochtones. Cette résurgence des connaissances traditionnelles culinaires autochtones est un facteur nécessaire à la réparation des traumatismes dus au colonialisme. Les livres de recettes autochtones sont un excellent médium pour continuer dans ce sens. Ces ouvrages permettent d'interpeller les lecteurs et de partager des ressources pratiques autour de la culture et des connaissances alimentaires tout en fournissant des recettes (à la fois contemporaines et traditionnelles), plus couramment associées à ce genre d'ouvrage.

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Introduction

"North American Indians didn't have books such as European and other races had, but they had the greatest book of all, 'Mother Earth,' a book that preceded all other books."[1]

For thousands of years Indigenous North Americans maintained sacred relationships among themselves, with their food and the environment. Storytelling served as a means to share vital lessons across generations about the relationship between plants, animals, and people, and the importance of maintaining relations of respect and reciprocity between humans and their world.[2] The imposition of colonial rule sought to undermine Indigenous peoples' relationships to their ancestral lands and, in turn, to assimilate Indigenous peoples into the larger European body politic. The Indian Act, reserve system, and residential schooling each undermined traditional knowledge, ceremonies, and healing systems, to the extent that now many Indigenous peoples have not learned the knowledge, stories, and ceremonies that had sustained their peoples for millennia before European intervention.

Many of the illnesses disproportionately plaguing contemporary First Nations populations, such as obesity, diabetes, and cardiovascular disease, are direct results of colonial measures such as the reserve system, the Indian Act, and residential schooling. These combined factors nearly eradicated traditional Indigenous culture. Nevertheless, much of the knowledge and ceremony of ancient First Nations oral traditions has survived and is now being reclaimed by current generations.

Recent research on the intergenerational impacts of colonial institutions including the reserve system, Indian Act, and residential schooling point to the specific and largely deleterious effects on traditional Indigenous diets and food knowledge. However, although the 400 year colonial campaign against Indigenous lifeways had devastating and lasting implications for Indigenous peoples, it ultimately failed to completely sever Indigenous peoples from the teachings that allowed them to live an intricately balanced and healthy way of life. Nevertheless, an increasing number of First Nations people[3] are currently re-learning and passing down ancient Indigenous wisdom to future generations, thereby partaking in a cultural resurgence. The stories, teachings, and ceremonies which comprise First Nations' oral traditions play an integral role in this cultural revitalization. While oral traditions still constitute the most appropriate, dynamic, and durable[4] method for encoding and sharing traditional Indigenous knowledge, given current realities, many First Nations people are also turning to print, audio recording, video, and the internet to share knowledge and experiences with wider Indigenous and non-Indigenous audiences. In relation to traditional Indigenous foodways, the emergence of Indigenous cookbooks can be understood as an extension of this broader trend to revitalize Indigenous knowledge. Cookbooks serve as a potentially useful medium for encoding and sharing traditional food knowledge as well as healing diet-related colonial trauma.

Traditional Indigenous Foodways

As in Genesis, Indigenous creation stories describe how earth, water, wind, plants, and animals were all created first, while human beings were formed last. However, while the western God gives humans dominion over the rest of creation and instructs them to subdue and rule over the Earth, the Creator spirit of Indigenous creation stories gives humans no such instructions. In many Indigenous stories, the Creator instead instructs the plants and animals to take pity on their younger siblings, the humans, and to teach them how to live successfully and ethically with the rest of Creation. It is for this reason that Indigenous North Americans understand that everything in Nature-be it land, water, plant, or animal-has spirit and consciousness and should be treated with respect. From this perspective, plants and animals are considered to be older relatives and teachers who possess valuable teachings concerning how to live harmoniously in specific environments.[5] Margo Greenwood and Sarah de Leeuw relate a teaching by Shushwap elder Mary Thomas, during a mountain hike with one of the authors:

She came across a small spot in the tall pine trees, a tiny place littered with pine cone pieces: "See these scattered pine cone pieces?" asked Mary. "If you look carefully, you will find a pile of pieces nearby. Underneath the pile will be a cache of pine cones belonging to a squirrel. The little cones will be arranged in rows with the tops pointed downward. This is what my Grandmother taught me. When I was a little girl, I asked my Grandmother why the cones were all pointed downward. 'Because,' she told me, 'when the winter snows begin to melt, and water drips into the cache, it will run downward off the cones and not wreck the nutmeats inside them.' I asked, 'How do the little squirrels know to do that?' Granny said, 'They learn like we do, and then they pass their knowledge onto us.'"[6]

Anishnaube author Basil Johnston describes how the Indigenous peoples understand the delicate balance between food and the environment:

Weather, rain, tornado, gale, thunderstorm, cloud, sunshine, winds and their directions, rainlessness, snow, sleet, hail, prolonged cold, sudden warm spells, snowless winters all made some change in the growth of plants and harvest, which in turn altered and had a bearing upon the habits and movement of birds, animals, insects and fish.[7]

Through such keen observations of ecological relationships and the behaviour of plants and animals described above, Indigenous groups across the continent gained in-depth knowledge of the intricacies and potential of local environments and foods.

Consequently, Indigenous peoples knew an incredible variety of foods which were available to be hunted and gathered in their territories. Wild rice, or Mino-meen, as it is called by the Anishnaube, is actually a wild grass that

...grew in warm waters from the Kawarthas in Eastern Ontario to the Northern States of Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota and on into Northwestern Ontario. To the people in the Northwest "Mino-meen" was a staple in much the same way as corn was a staple in the south.[8]

The story of the "discovery" of wild rice is figured within the legend of the Anishnaube "First Man" Nana 'b' oozoo, who observed birds picking the seeds from the drooping heads of the wild rice.

Corn has been a staple in the traditional diets of many different Indigenous groups. The Anishnaube call corn Maunda-meen and describe it as an introduced food that originated from the Mayan people of Latin America. Johnston relates a story in which a grandmother tells her grandson of the coming of Maunda-meen; "A stranger will come, listen to him."[9] For the Hopi people of the high deserts of Northern Arizona, corn permeates all aspects of community and ceremonial life. It is viewed simultaneously as "...sustenance, ceremonial object, prayer offering, symbol, and sentient being unto itself."[10] According to Victor Masayesva, a Hopi corn farmer, "You sing to [corn] because they're just like humans, they have their own lives and they like to hear you singing to them."[11]

For the Haudenonshonee, or Iroquoian people, of Southern Ontario and upstate New York the "Three Sisters"-corn, beans, and squash-are the life-giving foods. Jeff Metoxen, manager of Tsyunhehkwa, the Oneida Community Food System, shares how they came to be food staples for the Oneida:

The seeds that Sky Women had brought with her [ sic] began to grow into the plants and herbal life needed for survival. Plants grown from those first seeds included Corn, Beans, and Squash, and became the Three Sisters for our people. They are the main providers for our sustenance. It is our tradition and responsibility to honor our sustainers.[12]

In many versions of the "Three Sisters" story, corn, beans, and squash must always be planted together. This is sound agricultural advice because these three plants form a symbiotic triad. As Michael Milburn notes:

Corn is a heavy nitrogen feeder, while beans are nitrogen "fixers," bringing atmospheric nitrogen into the soil with the help of symbiotic bacteria. Corn provides structure to the trailing bean plants, while squash plants reduce weeds and shade the soil. Integrated plantings also reduce pest problems.[13]

Elder Janice Longboat, of the Turtle clan of the Mohawk nation, works as a traditional herbalist who conducts independent research on nutrition and current First Nations health, including corn. In one of several conversations shared over many years at the Native Canadian Centre of Toronto, Longboat discussed her own studies of corn and the glycemic index, or blood sugar levels. She puzzled over the fact that corn, though a long time dietary staple of her people, is restricted in diets for those with diabetes because of its negative effect on blood sugar levels. Through years of observation, discussion, and research, Longboat realized that the traditional corn eaten by the Mohawk people was prepared with a specific type of lye. This lye, when applied to corn as a preservative and drying agent, also affected the sugar content and slowed its absorption. Longboat concluded that this process renders corn safe to consume for those with diabetes.[14] This lye treatment also helps increase the amount of niacin and calcium in the corn.[15] Longboat adds a cautionary note that not all lye is equal, and that there are many dry-lyed corn preparations currently available which are not blood-sugar friendly. Her willingness to share this, along with her wealth of traditional herbal wisdom, has contributed greatly to our understanding of nutrition and Indigenous diets. Other such efforts may reveal important health benefits. For example, game, a traditional component of Indigenous food culture, is dense in protein and low in fat.[16] A breakdown of nutritional components such as this would help educate others about the health benefits of Indigenous foods compared to many Western dietary staples. Such efforts may also instill and promote a sense of cultural pride through food and foodways.

Berries constitute another food source consumed by First Nations peoples which figure prominently in traditional Indigenous foodways and health. Many First Nations members of the Native Canadian Centre of Toronto have fond memories of gathering berries for ceremonies or preserves. In 2006 the Toronto Native Community History Project ( Gete-Kindasiwiin Gamig), together with the Aboriginal Seniors' Circle of Life Program at the Centre, worked together to document a series of planned activities designed to promote health and wellness among their seniors by encouraging activities that would help eliminate social isolation and also reconnect the participants to the land. One of the first activities included a day trip to a farm near the Grand River to pick strawberries. Berry picking became a social event, and one elder took the time to explain the importance of Anishnaube berry fasting. She explained how young Anishnaube women refrain from eating berries for a full year after the onset of puberty. This custom functions as a ceremony of serious spiritual commitment, and is still commonly practiced today. She explained how those who missed the ceremony because of residential school or adoption into white families were allowed to enter the fast as adults. She smiled and said that berries were chosen because they were the hardest thing to give up.[17] Fasting is a common practice among many Indigenous groups, which has long been understood to have therapeutic benefits. Raymond Obomsawin writes,

Indigenous peoples, always keen to observe nature's ways, found that both wild and domesticated animals when injured will refuse all food until recovered. This important lesson was not lost on them and in time fasting became an integral therapeutic as well as spiritual measure for Amerindian people throughout the North American continent.[18]

These are just a few examples of the sophisticated, holistic, and balanced understandings of food among Indigenous peoples across Turtle Island which demonstrate how food is inseparable from Indigenous identity, culture, community, and ceremonial life.

Colonial Trauma and Indigenous Dietary Change

Various colonial measures disrupted these strong relationships between Indigenous culture, foodways, and the land. The circumscription and cessation of First Nations ancestral hunting and fishing grounds through treaties and reserves severely curtailed the viability of traditional subsistence activities, such as hunting and gathering. At the same time, the marginal location of many reserves (economically, politically, geographically, and agriculturally) enforced dependence on imported, processed Western foods which tended to be much higher in fat, carbohydrates, and sugar, and lowered their consumption of fruits and vegetables, relative to traditional subsistence diets.[19]

The Indian Act, until relatively recently, included measures which criminalized the ceremonial life of many different First Nations groups. Many Indigenous people were jailed when they persisted in conducting traditional ceremonies in defiance of the Act. In some cases, government rations were withheld from communities which refused to comply with the measures of the Act. Since ceremonies often involved more than one community, another one of the ways to restrict First Nations ceremonial life was to enact restrictions on off-reserve travel.[20] These travel restrictions also curtailed off-reserve subsistence activities such as hunting and gathering.

The separation of Indigenous people from the land has been further exacerbated by the ongoing resource extraction and industrial development on many Canadian reserves which has left damaged ecologies incapable of supporting healthy fish, game, water, and plants. Activities such as logging, mining, and manufacturing disrupted the formerly intact, healthy ecosystems and have had deleterious effects on the types and quality of foods available. Winona LaDuke has documented the massive degree of environmental degradation in and around reserves in the United States and Canada. She writes:

While Native peoples have been massacred and fought, cheated, and robbed of their historical lands, today their lands are subject to some of the most invasive industrial interventions imaginable...317 reservations in the United States are threatened by environmental hazards, ranging from toxic wastes to clearcuts...Over 100 proposals have been floated in recent years to dump toxic waste in Indian communities...Seventy-seven sacred sites have been disturbed or desecrated through resource extraction and development activities...Over the last 45 years, there have been 1,000 atomic explosions on Western Shoshone land in Nevada, making the Western Shoshone the most bombed nation on Earth.[21]

Michael Millburn also notes the deleterious effects of environmental degradation on the integrity of traditional subsistence in Cape Breton:

I was dismayed by many changes in the natural and cultural environments. Ground?sh have become scarce; in some cases species are listed as threatened. Traditional clam beds are exhausted, and there are problems with heavy metal contamination of seafood. Off-road vehicles now crisscross the island, damaging sensitive coastal ecosystems, riparian zones, and streambeds. Young people are increasingly overweight and inactive and favor fast foods grown and produced in distant lands.[22]

The destruction of traditional food sources has, in turn, led to further reliance on highly processed Western foods.

The residential school system constitutes another major contributor to the incidence of diabetes, high blood pressure, and obesity among contemporary First Nations populations. The Roman Catholic and Anglican churches in tandem with the Canadian government created residential schools in Canada. Although the school system was discussed in the 1830s, schools were fully operative by the 1860s. Some First Nations leaders such as Chief Shingwaukonce, or "Little Pine" of Garden River, were initially in favour of the schools, which they viewed as necessary for their own survival, given colonial realities.[23] However, it was not clear to Indigenous leaders at the time that the prevailing racist and assimilationist assumptions would ultimately lead to a curriculum focused primarily on cultural genocide rather than quality education.

For over 150 years, children attended schools that taught them little more than rudimentary sewing, cooking, and farming skills. What may have been seen as an opportunity for First Nations children to receive a good education became a sadly deficient and offensive system rife with abuse. As stated in Miller's book, Shingwauk's Vision: A History of Native Residential Schools,

A Fundamental problem was poorly prepared or untrained staff. It was not until the late 1950s and 1960s that Indian Affairs and the missionary organizations began to pay serious attention to the selection and training of administrators, teachers, and childcare workers.[24]

This, coupled with "...a tendency to use residential schools as dumping grounds for missionary workers who were a problem for the evangelical bodies,"[25] created schools run by either dysfunctional or ill-trained workers in charge of children's lives and education. Miller adds, "Missionary bodies all too often were unwilling or unable to weed out-and keep out-staff who were proven to be guilty of misconduct."[26] Systemic racism along with inadequate training compounded an already tenuous situation. "The essence of the missionary indictment was that Natives were morally and intellectually degenerate, either as a result of post-contact debasement, or from an innately infantile moral nature."[27] This racist line of thinking often justified the severe instances of mistreatment and abuse of children at the hands of residential school staff and administration.

Despite an increase in awareness of the brutal physical and psychological abuses First Nations children suffered at residential schools, discussions rarely focus on the specific affects of food abuse at these institutions. Within these institutions, the quality of food and the context in which it was presented has left a lasting and injurious view of food amongst contemporary survivors. In her book, Out of the Depths, Mi'kmaw author Isabelle Knockwood recalls, "Although more than fifty years have passed since their first arrival at the school, many former pupils share vivid memories of being constantly hungry."[28] Miller writes that "...the usual practice was to provide the children exclusively with skim milk, and to substitute less attractive substances for the butter that was destined for the staff or the local market."[29] While Miller elaborates that there were many factors contributing to the food-related issues at residential schools he argues that "...the insistence of missionaries on providing themselves with separate eating facilities and food superior to that served to the children"[30] compounded the feeling among residential school students that they were being treated unfairly. The constant hunger the students experienced forced them to find alternate ways to survive. Peter Julian recalls some of the strategies he used as a small child at the Indian residential School at Shubenacadie, Nova Scotia: "[W]e stole all the milk we could to get. A little extra for breakfast. For dinner, we stole all the carrots and turnips we could get a hold of. And we picked leftover food, such as chicken bones from the priest's and Sisters' garbage pails."[31] Such hunger has left many survivors with an unhealthy attitude towards food. Isabelle Knockwood also recalled the many instances of food being withheld as punishment. In her book, she includes this excerpt from survivor Alice Paul:

One day when some kid made a mistake and threw some potato peelings in a milk can, we were all punished until that person confessed. We had no meals for two days. I was ten and my sister was fourteen. She took a sandwich from the kitchen and sat me on the last hopper in the toilet room. I was so hungry. I was eating my sandwich trying not to make any noise to avoid getting caught.[32]

Betsey Paul, another Shubenacadie survivor, describes how at dinner she "...used to sit at the same table with Dorothy Doucette. She was so sick, she used to puke right in her plate and Wikew used to beat her in the mouth with a spoon and stuff the food mixed with the vomit right back into her mouth again."[33] One of the strongest reminders of the harsh contrast between traditional Indigenous subsistence and that experienced in residential schools was the child's inability to remedy the situation:

It seemed when you're brought up in your own home, where you live, if you're lacking in something, you just went in the bush and picked berries. If you needed something to make you healthy, you just went in the bush and it was there for you to make yourself well.[34]

Knockwood summarizes her own food experiences at Shubenacadie this way: "Day after day, week after week, month after month and year after year for seven, eight, nine or ten years, this was the atmosphere we ate our meals in-an atmosphere of fear of the unknown, the unexpected and the reality that you could be next."[35]

Only recently have researchers begun to take note of the horrible food-related abuses at residential schools and their long-term health effects. According to Milburn,

Indigenous populations are often disproportionately affected by changing diet and lifestyle patterns. Canada's Aboriginal people for example, have rates of diabetes some three times the national average and higher rates of other chronic diseases.[36]

Factors such as stress, inactivity, and diet are frequently cited as directly contributing to the occurrence of both diabetes type one and two.

To create a connection between residential school food experiences and diabetes awareness, the Toronto Native Community History Program and the Aboriginal Seniors Circle of Life Program at the Native Canadian Centre of Toronto planned and implemented an initiative with the assistance of the Aboriginal Healing Foundation.[37] The initiative was titled "Keep the Campfires Burning" and was spearheaded by Heather Howard (PhD) and Ruth Cyr, a residential school survivor and Registered Nurse. In her dissertation, Howard describes the function of the initiative:

Survivors' [ sic] were asked to reflect on the rupture caused by the residential school experience in access to and knowledge of traditional nutrition, as well as links between the physical abuse associated with diet in residential schools, and survivors' and their families' current eating patterns, physical activity, health status, particularly the diabetes.[38]

The program involved group discussions with residential school survivors as well as exercise and nutrition counseling. It amounted to a huge success. Although participants generally understood diet as a contributory factor in diabetes, the positive effects of exercise were not so widely known.[39] Subsequently, many program participants took control of their diabetes with diet and exercise and began to understand how they came to their unhealthy diets and relationships with food.

During the ten sessions, 122 discussions were recorded providing a wealth of information and a view into the food experiences of many survivors. Discussions relating a preoccupation with food were directly linked to survivors' own current unhealthy habits, such as overeating, eating too quickly, or hoarding. Howard describes some survivors as marginally better equipped to deal with residential schools because they

...were adept at traditional subsistence such as hunting, fishing, gathering, and the ceremonial life that went along with these activities. These survivors could draw on the value of these cultural lessons to cope with hunger, abuse, and other forms of deprivation in the schools. For example, many talked about gathering what they could around the schoolgrounds, and snaring small game to temporarily squash hunger pain that endured throughout the day, every day.[40]

Sharing circle discussions also detailed the hollow or non-nutritional foods such as white flour, white sugar, lard, and watery cereals which were common menu items at residential schools. This was particularly disturbing to many attendees who recall watching staff, nuns, and priests eating full, well-balanced meals consisting of vegetables, butter or margarine instead of lard, and meat dishes. This sharing of experiences was successful, and, as Heather Howard concluded:

The overall result of this project was to work towards positive health results by turning around the negative collective experience of residential school. Here the living history circles served as a powerful tool to shift the direction of social memory from one in which only the traumatic, awful things about residential school were recalled, to one in which the creativity and resilience of survivors was highlighted.[41]

The residential schools, through the forced removal of First Nations children from their communities and its misguided assimilationist curriculum, has had many negative intergenerational effects on many First Nations perceptions of food and diet. But perhaps the most insidious result of the residential school system was that it disrupted the integrity of the oral traditions of First Nations groups across the country by forbidding all First Nations languages from being spoken. When children eventually returned to their communities, they were like strangers, many of whom could no longer communicate with their families, friends, and elders. This disrupted the transmission of traditional stories, knowledge, and ceremony from one generation to the next and resulted in generations of First Nations people essentially cut off from languages and cultural heritages which were millennia in the making. Abuses suffered while at residential school have left many Native communities reeling with the effects of intergenerational trauma.

While the damage caused to Indigenous knowledge and cultural forms by various colonial institutions such as the reserve system, Indian Act, and residential schools has severely undermined traditional Indigenous cultures, much of the knowledge, as well as the oral tradition, has survived or been recovered. Today it is undergoing a renaissance. Many contemporary First Nations elders and teachers, whether living in cities or on reserves, have continued to tell traditional stories, hold sacred ceremonies, and pass on ancestral teachings. While oral storytelling has always been a central method for sharing traditional Indigenous knowledge, contemporary Indigenous people have begun to utilize other media of communication to keep and share traditional knowledge. The Four Directions Teachings Website ,[42] Aboriginal Voices Radio (AVR), Aboriginal Peoples Television Network (APTN), Toronto's "Imaginative" film festival, and the vast amount of printed literature and articles, theatrical plays, and visual arts comprise a short list of the many different ways of traditional Indigenous knowledge currently being shared. While these media, for the most part, lack the dynamism, presence, and longevity of Indigenous oral traditions, and present legitimate concerns about how the Indigenous knowledge and ceremonies recorded through these media will be used, they are useful for recording Indigenous traditions in danger of being lost.[43] These media also offer a means for sharing this information with audiences much larger than otherwise possible, including Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples.

An increasingly popular medium for sharing Indigenous food knowledge and food-related traditions is the cookbook. Although cookbooks lack the traditional pedagogy of intact oral traditions, given current realities they can act as a vital tool for recording and sharing Indigenous food knowledge which otherwise risks being forgotten. As such, the merit of Indigenous cookbooks should be measured not only by the simplicity, utility, and succulence of the recipes, but also by the degree to which they are able to preserve the stories, practices, ceremonies, and knowledge that constitute the context in which those recipes were created. To this end, there are some good examples of Indigenous cookbooks which provide traditional knowledge and stories related to the specific recipes. For example, The Rural and Native Heritage Cookbook,[44] and Traditional Indian Recipes from Fort George, Quebec,[45] each offer insights into traditional Indigenous cuisine, nutrition, and food knowledge through a relatively new media. These books contain recipes for a variety of traditional bush foods, such as porcupine, bear, lichens, and fiddleheads and include such offerings as pemmican, Indigenous "popcorn" (using dried water lily seeds), and Cattails on the Cob. Both books include instructions on how to find wild game, fish, and edible plants, how to skin, clean, and butcher wild game, and how to cook such foods in the bush using simple and portable implements. The books also provide some instruction on how to tan animal hides.[46] In addition to providing a variety of traditional recipes and food preparations, these books encode a large quantity of traditional knowledge on how to live a successful and balanced life in the bush, including the medicinal uses and nutritional value of a variety of Indigenous plants and animals. As such, both books represent important resources for reinvigorating traditional Indigenous knowledge of cuisine, medicine, and nutrition.

Where People Feast: An Indigenous People's Cookbook, written by mother-daughter team Dolly and Annie Watts,[47] offers culinary innovations inspired by tradition with a contemporary twist. Dishes include Sopalali Mousse, made from the berries of the Sopalali bush, and Gitsekgukla wedding cake, a specialty of Dolly's Grandmother, which uses bannock dough. Dolly Watts is a member of the Gitk'san First Nation in British Columbia, and daughter Annie is Nuu-Chah-Nulth, Kwakiutl, Makah, and English. The traditional foods included in this book reflect the culture and feast traditions of the Gitk'san territory in central British Columbia and the Nu-chah-nulth territory of the west coast of Vancouver Island.

Storytelling surfaces immediately in this cookbook, beginning with a story about berry picking by Dolly Watts. In this way Where People Feast brings the First Nations context of storytelling back into the world of Indigenous foods, yet through the medium of print. The inclusion of such food-related stories represents a means for regaining what has been lost, and reflects the disjunctures created between food, land, and culture created by various colonial assimilationist measures. More stories about the different seasons, traditional legends, or personal reminiscences about Indigenous food traditions need to be recorded for perpetuation. The Watts' book shows that Indigenous cookbooks can contribute greatly to this effort of recovery, however, inclusion of more research and knowledge about the healing properties and nutritional values of Indigenous foods is also necessary for this knowledge to be reintegrated.

Part of the process of revitalizing Indigenous oral traditions involves the use of contemporary media to collect, record, and share oral knowledge that is in danger of disappearing. Indigenous cookbooks may also serve as vehicles for delivering and revitalizing traditional Indigenous food knowledge, as long as the context in which the recipes originated is also preserved through the inclusion of the stories, history, and knowledge related to those recipes. In this way, the simple sharing of recipes has become a contemporary method of reinforcing, preserving, and introducing traditional Indigenous knowledge of cuisine as well as medicine and nutrition. More information on how, where, when, and why Indigenous peoples collected and consumed certain traditional foods is needed.

Traditional knowledge of Indigenous people in North America was never completely forgotten. A large amount of knowledge survived intact despite colonial measures to eradicate it. Many people were not taught this knowledge, since colonial repression forced elders and teachers to be very secretive about ceremonies and traditions for about 100 years. Yet many tribal groups passed on vital knowledge of ceremonies and traditions to a handful of trusted individuals, who in turn kept and passed on that knowledge. Thus, with the knowledge never fully lost, it is now undergoing a renaissance as more people pick up what was temporarily left by the trail.

The reconstitution of traditional Indigenous foodways is a precondition to healing the many traumas of colonization, including unhealthy attitudes toward food and diet that were learned through Western institutions. In this sense, perhaps one of the best methods of reclaiming culture and treating the modern epidemics of obesity, diabetes, and cardiovascular disease affecting many Indigenous people is to attend to their root causes by supporting the revitalization of traditional Indigenous knowledge and foodways.

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Decolonizing Diet: Healing by Reclaiming Traditional Indigenous Foodways - Cuizine

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Abstract Traditional Indigenous foodways remain important for the ongoing health and well being of contemporary Indigenous North American peoples. Drawing partly on primary research on food-related knowledge and experience within the First Nations community of Toronto, the authors trace how colonial policies of assimilation attempted to destroy Indigenous knowledge and in so doing spawned numerous trans-generational health consequences for Indigenous populations, which are still felt today.

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Teachers, get inspired by those schools and communities who have already began their local communal gardens and urban school farms.

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WORKSHOPS for Sustainability, Resilience & Abundance OUR WORKSHOPS MEET OUR TEAM ABOUT UFS Are you ready to start living a more sustainable and mindful lifestyle? ​ Is it important to you to eat locally and cultivate some measure of food security and community?

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The Benefits of Building an Urban Garden at Your School BY ASHLEY SIMMONS | May 24, 2017

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The Benefits of Building an Urban Garden at Your School BY ASHLEY SIMMONS | May 24, 2017

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Read our previous post on how urban gardening can reduce air pollution!

Urban gardening doesn't have to stop in our neighborhoods or in our backyards. Schools nationwide have shown a steady interest in building urban gardens as well. Schools in urban settings can be an ideal place to start gardening projects for teachers and students. Urban gardens in schools across the country have contributed significantly in improving students' lives and academics.

Improving Nutrition for Students

Gardening in the urban school setting provides students access to healthy fresh foods in otherwise inaccessible neighborhoods. In certain communities where food deserts are prevalent, these community gardens provide a nutritional avenue for students and their families. Students learn how to grow fresh fruits and vegetables, some of which are new to their palate, while teachers provide information about healthy eating. Children who benefit from having a school garden also have a better relationship with food thanks to the increase in fruit and vegetable consumption.

Improving Educational Outcomes

Educational studies have long acknowledged the connection of healthy, well-fed children and education. Dietitians, for example, emphasize the importance of breakfast for growing children. Eating a balanced breakfast gives students the energy they need for good school performance. Skipping meals, however, results in lower IQ scores and shortened attention spans. But students also show improved academic success just from the experience of learning about the process of growing the food they eat.

At Promise Academy Charter School in Harlem, teachers incorporate math and science standards by teaching students how plants grow and how to properly measure plant beds. REAL School Gardens, a non-profit that partners with schools to build gardens for three years, argues that students, particularly at the elementary school level, are more engaged with real-world hands on learning that these gardens provide. Partnering schools have reported increased student participation and better standardized test scores as just some of the benefits from using school gardens as a teaching tool.

Environmental Stewardship

Students who participate in gardening clearly learn how access to fresh fruits and vegetables improve their own lives. But the skills students can learn from gardening go beyond themselves and their peers. According to the Western Growers Foundation, students become participants in environmental stewardship when introduced to agricultural practices, "Through gardening, students become responsible caretakers. They have an opportunity to engage in agricultural practices on a small scale, learning about the responsibilities and impacts of land cultivation. They explore the web of interactions among the living and nonliving players that sustain life. By doing so, they develop a greater understanding of the natural world."

The skills learned at an early age also affect the type of adults these students become. Researchers generally agree that students who actively, or even passively, interact with nature end up having greater positive attitudes about nature well into adulthood. School and urban gardens are thus one way to ensure an environmentally-conscious future.
Funding for Urban Gardens
Funding for urban gardens in and out of schools used to be seen as a luxury few schools could afford; but because of the ample evidence of their benefits, more funds for these projects are becoming available each year. REAL School Gardens, for example, recently expanded their projects from urban Texas areas to the greater Washington, DC area. Even the USDA has recently expanded their funding efforts to include urban farmers. These resources are essential in order to ensure that students living in even the most vulnerable conditions are given the tools to become advocates for this planet's future.

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The Benefits of Building an Urban Garden at Your School - Population Education

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Read our previous post on how urban gardening can reduce air pollution! Urban gardening doesn't have to stop in our neighborhoods or in our backyards. Schools nationwide have shown a steady interest in building urban gardens as well. Schools in urban settings can be an ideal place to start gardening projects for teachers and students.

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For inspiration and envisioning the diversity of learning and teaching opportunities.

Fresh Roots: What we do

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Cultural Survival Quarterly Magazine: DECOLONIZING OUR DIET: SIOUX CHEF, November 2018

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Cultural Survival Quarterly Magazine: DECOLONIZING OUR DIET: SIOUX CHEF, November 2018

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Chef Sean Sherman (Oglala Lakota) is working to draw attention to the cuisine of America's Indigenous cultures and reclaim Indigenous food knowledge. After mastering European dishes in restaurants across Minneapolis, Sherman shifted his focus to the recipes of his ancestors and embraced the budding Indigenous food movement. In 2014 Sherman founded a catering company, Sioux Chef, specializing in Indigenous foods that eliminate the use of European ingredients. Sioux Chef is now an Indigenous-led team with a mission of revitalizing Native American cuisine. He published a popular cookbook, The Sioux Chef, which was recently named "Best American Cookbook" by the James Beard Foundation. In 2015 he launched Tatankatruck, a food truck that features Oglala Lakota specialties such as cedar and maple tea, bison, and wild rice bowls. When Sherman and his business partner, Dana Thompson, decided to open a restaurant, their record-breaking Kickstarter campaign raised nearly $150,000 from 2,358 people in 30 days-more individual contributors than any other restaurant to ever raise funds using Kickstarter. The Sioux Chef team has grown rapidly from just Sherman to 12 employees working round the clock to maintain the catering business while developing the physical restaurant. Sherman's long term vision is to work with Tribal communities to decolonize diets and bring access to Indigenous foods across the whole United States. Cultural Survival's Salma Al-Sulaiman recently spoke with Sherman. Cultural Survival: Tell us about your journey into the culinary world.
Sean Sherman: I was born in Pine Ridge in the early '70s and was there until I was about 13. We lived way out in the country, but I had a lot of my family still living at the reservation so we visited often. My parents split up, and my mom moved off the reservation and went back to school. I started cooking out of necessity, just because we did not have a lot of money. I was able to find a job and started working at restaurants as soon as I turned 13. I didn't really know that I was going to be a chef growing up. I just kept working at restaurants throughout high school, college, and after college. I went to the same university as my mom, Black Hills State University. When I moved to Minneapolis, I kept working at restaurants and became pretty good at it. I got my first executive chef job just after a few years of being in the city. I did not go to culinary school.

I started working with the farm-to-table movement when it was barely a movement. It was nice to work directly with farmers and ranchers around me to really help me think outside of the box. It helped me explore more and more food flavors until I had my epiphany a few years later, realizing that there was no Indigenous representation in the culinary world. It was eye-opening to have that realization that I could name 100 European recipes from English, French, Spanish, and Italian, but could barely think of 10 Dakota recipes. That made me spend a few years researching, experimenting, and reconnecting with plants until I started feeling comfortable to do dinners focused on regional and Indigenous foods, in about 2012.
CS: What makes food a good avenue to reclaim Indigenous cultures?
SS: Food is a really nice center point for people, for understanding and for identity. Food really defines who we are on so many levels, nutritiously, regionally, spiritually, culturally. The removal of food systems [from Native communities] was our driving force; we are centering our whole nonprofit based on returning education and creating food access, which is something that was taken from us, like our ancestors going to boarding schools and residential schools and losing so much culture. [With] the destruction of our natural resources and disruption of land and animal and plant resources, we are lucky to have Indigenous agriculture still alive throughout the U.S. at all. A lot of us as Indigenous communities are basically genocidal survivors. It is important to talk about the history.
CS: How can Indigenous foods and wildlife help the food system?
SS: Indigenous communities all over the world have a blueprint of how to live sustainably using just plants and animals right around you, no petroleum or anything. Much of Indigenous education centers around food: how to hunt, fish, farm, gather and process food, how to use tools and weapons and all of that. Indigenous education never had a price tag on it, so it seems ridiculous that we are kept in such a state of oppression because of lack of education. Food is the most important part of understanding Indigenous food systems because it is complicated; it is not just like going to a cooking school and learning about French techniques. There is so much diversity within Indigenous food systems all around the world that you could find commonality in technique like food preservation and cooking techniques; you know how people were grinding and drying things. We are looking at the knowledge of the wild foods and plants and understanding they are used not just for food, but also for medicine and crafting. We are also looking at agriculture and the history of agriculture, at the migration of people, and understanding the history in general of how we all ended up where we are. It's important to utilize this Indigenous education and thousands of generations of knowledge of how to live sustainably with the plants and animals around you. That resourcefulness showcases the need for protecting natural resources and continuing this education, writing it down, and showing the value of Indigenous education over Western education.
CS: Tell us about NATIFS CS: How can people access Indigenous ingredients? and Indigenous Food Labs. CS: What are your plans for the future?
SS: As we were getting ready to open restaurants, we also had this drive that we wanted to do this everywhere. We did not want to have franchise restaurants because we are trying to return a lot of this education to the communities and make Indigenous foods a part of a daily life. We created the non-profit, North American Traditional Indigenous Food Systems, utilizing the brand Indigenous Food Labs, which we are hoping to open by the Spring in Minneapolis. Indigenous Food Labs is a nonprofit restaurant that is focused on training people to work with Indigenous foods in a restaurant scene. All of our staff become trainers, so people learn restaurant systems, management, cooking, operations, catering, and all aspects of a full scale restaurant. We also have in the plans a culinary kitchen education center and classroom so we can teach people this curriculum that we want to design around Indigenous food, farming, agriculture, seed saving, foraging techniques, food preservation, salt and sugar fat production... cooking techniques in general. Our goal for Indigenous Food Labs is to have a large education training center open as a public restaurant and help open other smaller food entities. Basically, we want to be a support and training center. We will help develop everything, including writing the business model and the recipes, and help them build healthy Indigenous food entities for their community that can spur jobs and help bring foods that are culturally relevant to their particular place, land, history, and people. Our goal is to open Indigenous Food Labs everywhere we can throughout North America, largely in the United States but also eventually in Canada and Mexico. Hopefully this will be a resource for anybody around the world to utilize similar techniques to help develop and revitalize Indigenous food systems anywhere, using restaurants as a center point that people not only go to, but learn from.

SS: We wanted a cookbook to give people my idea of how we approached food and how they can similarly approach food, no matter what region they are in; not to use the exact same ingredients that we have in our region, but to look around and see what is out their back door. Utilizing that concept and thinking about wildfoods, agriculture and history, the processing and the cooking technique and why it is important to decolonize foods; to know why we have pushed so hard to remove the dairy, the wheat flour, the processed sugar, and even beef, pork, and chicken, just to prove a point that there are other protein sources out there. We see that we can start to spur Indigenous regional food hubs all over the place, because no matter where you are in North America there is beautiful Indigenous history and all sorts of different foods. We have been able to go coast to coast and play with whatever food and history and different flavors that are in those regions, opening the doors for so much more plant diversity in people's diets. There are so many plants that are not being utilized at all, that are completely perfect food sources, and we literally step on them all the time.

SS: We are hoping we can start working on opening our first Indigenous Food Labs in different parts of the country, like Albuquerque, Denver, Seattle, Boston, or Chicago, to help those respective regions to do that same work to help the Tribes around them to solidify and revitalize the food systems and to grow those economic opportunities. We are also going to be working on the next book iteration, taking a deeper look at North America as a whole.

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Chef Sean Sherman (Oglala Lakota) is working to draw attention to the cuisine of America's Indigenous cultures and reclaim Indigenous food knowledge. After mastering European dishes in restaurants across Minneapolis, Sherman shifted his focus to the recipes of his ancestors and embraced the budding Indigenous food movement.

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How an Indigenous Chef Is Decolonizing Canadian Cuisine: Rich Francis is reclaiming and reinventing an erased food culture.

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How an Indigenous Chef Is Decolonizing Canadian Cuisine: Rich Francis is reclaiming and reinventing an erased food culture.

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The author would like to thank Sila Rogan and Angela Bellegarde from the Indigenous Innovation Initiative at Grand Challenges Canada for their support and insight during the researching and reporting process.

In Canada, true Indigenous cuisine is relatively unknown. Ask almost any Canadian to name an Indigenous dish, and their answer will almost certainly be "bannock," a kind of dry skillet bread. Chef Rich Francis, based in Six Nations of the Grand River, Ontario, refuses to serve it. "Bannock isn't even Indigenous, in the truest sense," he says. "It was what we made when our land was taken, our movement limited, and our provisions reduced to a sack of flour. It was taught to us-it's Scottish traditionally-it's colonization food."

Chef Francis, who is Gwich'in and Haudenosaunee, has been in the spotlight over the last few years, often for challenging beliefs such as those about bannock. In 2014, he was the first-ever Indigenous contestant on Top Chef Canada, where he took third place despite being a favorite to win. His incorporation of Indigenous medicine flavors (sweetgrass, tobacco, sage, and cedar) throughout the season won him praise, but the judges were unforgiving about his offering featuring muskox. Some undercooked quail in the dish didn't help, either.

Francis is working to help change the narrative around Indigenous cuisine not exactly by recreating it, but by bringing some of its ingredients and techniques to modern tables and palates. Over the past few years, Francis has hosted dinners around the theme of reconciliation, to explore what modern Indigenous cuisine is, and could be. To do so, he's looking within himself, to nature, and to elders across the country-but there are few who can fully recall the flavors of a pre-colonial palate.

"It isn't something you can just pick up a cookbook and learn," he says. "It's been erased, and so many of the elders can hardly remember the tastes of these foods. They were taught not to taste it." Here, he's particularly referring to the residential school system, which took Indigenous youth away from their homes, and sought to "kill the Indian in the child." It's said that South Africa's apartheid policies were modeled after Canada's policies.

Many of the challenges that Francis has faced are part of a continuing legacy of marginalizing Indigenous people, culture, and cuisine in Canada. His reconciliation dinners have often been underground affairs, because as of right now, restaurants cannot legally serve many of the traditional things he wishes to bring back to the Indigenous pantry. "If I was to serve all the things I wanted to, I would be shut down in a minute," he laments. "You can't serve whale, or seal, or other hunted game, and that makes some important aspects of Indigenous cuisine impossible. I can't in my right mind call a dish with factory-farmed beef 'Indigenous.'"

Francis wasn't always set on making Indigenous cuisine, though. He recalls going to public school about 100 kilometers from Toronto, outside Reserve No. 40, where kids would tease him for bringing cured meats and a handful of Indigenous foods that were still being eaten. Experiences such as those distanced Francis from his roots. Decades later, he has come to terms with those early years, and has since sought to both unearth and reinvent Indigenous cuisine.

In early July, I went to Francis's home on the Six Nations Reserve No. 40. Almost as a first lesson in the importance of land and climate to Indigenous cuisine, our original plans to hunt for venison are dissuaded by the searing sun, leaving us to prowl for produce at the local grocer.

Once we're there, Francis begins weaving through the aisles. "Sorry if I get quiet for a second-I'm building the dish," he says, smelling and touching everything, with an eye out for the "Grown in Ontario" signs. This tactile intuition has always been a part of his process, and taps into a much larger, centuries-old knowledge that he says is deep within him. It was this intuition that guided him through his culinary education at the acclaimed Stratford Chefs School, where he recalls feeling the motions in his muscles before he had ever learned them.

"I remember the moment they were announcing the winner of the 'Top in Class' award in culinary school-everyone, myself included, though it would be this other guy. Then they called my name. I didn't even have half an idea for a speech," Francis recounts. "I always cooked from a place that was beyond myself: I learned the French techniques, but the knowledge was already in me. And now I cook what I want to, as I want to. Indigenous food."

Spring peas, cod from the east coast, bone marrow, and early-season cherries fill our bags as we head back to the Francis residence. We brush off the wooden table and kick up a stir of mosquitos as we toss kindling into the fire pit. While it seems foolish to stand by a fire at midday in July, the smoke keeps the bugs at bay. Francis places the bone marrow and cod on a grill suspended between cinder blocks, then he heads out to forage a "salad." He returns moments later, his hands full of soft, purple wild chive flowers, bright yellow nasturtiums, and stunning orange tiger-lilies.

"The tiger-lilies aren't from here-they're an invasive species that has absolutely taken off in the GTA [Greater Toronto Area]," he notes. "But they're pretty, and they have this crisp flavor, so might as well use them," he says, while separating petal from stem. This adaptation is a cornerstone of Francis' modern Indigenous kitchen, in which he uses old knowledge in new ways. Not everyone within the Indigenous chef community agrees with his rejection of some "traditional" foods (which Francis sees as colonial), though. "Sure, lots of people don't agree with what I'm doing," he says. "But I always wanted to be different, and I guess when you want to be different, you don't find yourself with a lot of people to work with."

This afternoon, he stews the cherries with the wild herbs, and crisps the cod ever-so-slightly. Just before the fish leaves the flame, it receives a glaze of yellow birch syrup from Quebec: my contribution to the meal. Birch has long played a role in Indigenous life, best known for the quintessential birch-bark canoes of the Algonquin First Nations. Birch syrup takes nearly double the amount of sap to syrup as maple. It's savory at first, then eases into a rich maple flavor on the back palate.

As we prepare to plate the meal, I realize that Chef Francis had only brought out one dish, and one spoon for us to share. It feels significant, as the land we stand on was part of the Dish With One Spoon treaty. Believed to be among the earliest pre-contact treaties, it represents a collective responsibility to share the land and its resources (the dish) with all who sought to live on it (the shared, singular spoon).

On our shared plate, the early-season cherries are flavorful but not overly sweet, and balance perfectly with the richness of the marrow. The birch syrup seeps into the moist, flaky cod, and each bite is crisp with tiger-lilies and spring peas-a far cry from bannock.

Francis believes that Indigenous cuisine can be sharp, complex, and dynamic-just as the culture is. There's still a lot of work to be done, though. "The Indigenous palate itself has been colonized," Francis says. "We were given tastes for three things: white sugar, white flour, and white... well, you can guess." There is a need to rediscover old food memories, and Francis thinks that non-Indigenous Canadians will come to appreciate Indigenous cuisine as well-especially in urban centers, where Francis sees modern food trends as a slow realization of centuries-old Indigenous ways.

"It's kind of ridiculous, all these food trends and diets. The 100-mile, paleo, keto, slow food-they're all pieces of the larger Indigenous food puzzle that we've known for thousands of years," he says. "When it returns, Indigenous food will not be a fad."
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How an Indigenous Chef Is Decolonizing Canadian Cuisine

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The author would like to thank Sila Rogan and Angela Bellegarde from the Indigenous Innovation Initiative at Grand Challenges Canada for their support and insight during the researching and reporting process. In Canada, true Indigenous cuisine is relatively unknown.

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Decolonizing Our Diets by Recovering Our Ancestors' Gardens by Devon A. Mihesuah

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Decolonizing Our Diets by Recovering Our Ancestors' Gardens by Devon A. Mihesuah

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Article reference:

Mihesuah, Devon A. "Decolonizing Our Diets by Recovering Our Ancestors' Gardens." American Indian Quarterly 27, no. 3/4 (2003): 807-39. Accessed March 22, 2020. www.jstor.org/stable/4138973.