By Eleanor A. Sangma
More than a hundred years ago, the A·chik tribe walked on the new land they would eventually call their home. As they migrated to a new place, one of the hurdles they had to face was a shortage of food.
In a foreign space, with no food for days, they went foraging in their surroundings for whatever edibles they could find.
Ripseng Sangma, from Wa.tregre village in West Garo Hills, tells me how some of the food that we now casually eat for extra nutrients was what our ancestors consumed for survival back then.
“They found ta·jong (a variety of root vegetable), dug it out and transformed it into a dish on its own. That was one of the very first food they consumed on the new soil as a tribe even before they had access to rice. They called it miwek,” Sangma narrates.
He tells me the reason they lived for long years even without rice was because of these nutrient-rich vegetables such as ta·jong, narot (a tuber), donggam (leaves used in cooking), and me·bitchi (a tree whose leaves are used as vegetable).
Although some of these are consumed even today, a few others might not even exist in memory, as we have come a long way since our foraging days.
Starting with miwek, this is how the indigenous tribe started cultivating some of their traditional cooking styles and methods, one of which has seen a revival in recent years – the karchi – referring both to an ingredient and style of cooking.
“Karchi was made to accompany miwek,” Sangma states. In the olden days, there was no form of seasoning, nor side dishes to accompany the meal. So, they made karchi that would give a distinct taste to a dish and also lend its name to the cooking style.
“With leafy vegetables from the forest, and maybe some fish from the river, they came up with karchi dishes that would suit their taste,” he adds.
The process of making it takes days. Wa·ring (young or immature bamboo) is cut, dried and burned, reducing it to ashes. The ashes are then soaked in very little water, and filtered. “From the days of our ancestors, they have used a traditional sieve called dengreng, which is made of bamboo. It is made in such a way that even the tiniest impurities cannot pass through,” Sangma tells me.
The liquid that slowly trickles out through the sieve is collected and that’s how we have our organic karchi.
Besides wa·ring, it can also be made from re·su (plantain) and stalk of kil (cotton plant). The one made of the cotton stalk is called kiljeng. “These three are typically used to make karchi, and each one has a different taste,” he remarks.
Since those early days, how we eat and cook our food has changed immensely. In the quest for convenience, we have let traditions take a backseat. While letting go of the past is not always a bad thing, not preserving traditional knowledge could prove to be a huge loss for our tribe.
Sangma says, “Majority of us use cooking soda instead of karchi because it’s easier and more convenient to procure and use. In addition, many may not possess the knowledge of how it is made, and from where exactly it can be procured.”
Another reason is that people might not be accustomed to the taste or its usage when initially cooking with it.
Cooking soda is readily available in the markets, but its consumption is not the best for human health. “Whatever is made from wa·ring, re·su or kil, they don’t have any side effects,” he says, adding that the same cannot be said for soda.
Karchi is still used regularly in some villages, although not by all. These snippets of traditional knowledge have survived through cracks in modernity, and remain because a few A.chik people have clung on to their traditions.
Sangma’s family has been using karchi for a while. Over recent years, many others have woken up to its importance.
Just like how it trickles through a dengreng over a span of days, its use has gradually trickled into the lifestyle of some Garos again.
“Although the majority still use soda, many have realised that this is the healthier option and have started using it, even in Tura,” he states.
“Initially, the taste might seem bland when compared to soda. However, after a couple of tries, you’ll find it’s the better option,” he adds.
Karchi, miwek, and other traditional cooking styles contain knowledge that has been passed on to us by our ancestors, making them a major aspect of our culture and identity. Sangma feels that is why it is important to preserve the same in practice.
Sometimes remembering is intentional, and that is what has happened with karchi and other indigenous cooking styles. Some of these include brenga (meat cooked inside bamboo) and o·tepa or we·tepa (steamed in plantain leaves).
Writing this piece made me remember what Bee Wilson, the British food writer and journalist, once said, “Unlike traditional food, which is remembered jointly within families or communities, mass-produced food and drink is remembered across continents.”
She also remarked, “Every bite is a memory and the most powerful memories are the first ones.”