celebration, activism, and speaking up
how to keep going when the world is falling apart
Hello,
Last weekend was the festival of Eid al Adha - the second of the two major celebrations, or ‘Eids’ of the Islamic calendar. Our household preparations are what you’d probably expect: hanging decorations and lights (ours are shaped like crescent moons and stars); wrapping presents (Stickle Bricks and Magna Tiles taking centre stage this year); and of course, preparing our favourite celebration dishes.
The festivities started in earnest on Wednesday evening, with the
Eid al Adha cooking demonstration, where Lina Saad , Angela Zaher, and I were joined by other Guild members. Lina baked ghraibi - traditional Levantine cookies - also known as senyurah, while I made maach bora - Bengali fish cakes, and Angela kept the conversation going and fielded questions from the participants. It was a beautiful evening - warm, friendly, intimate - like being in one another’s kitchens. I’ve since greatly enjoyed seeing photos of others making ghraibi and maach bora (recipes also in the link) for the first time, and feeling immense pride at their sterling efforts!
On Eid morning itself, we prayed at home, lining up four prayer mats of different sizes on the big foam play mat in our living room. After that, the kids opened their presents (the desired level of gratitude was not expressed by all, shall we say…apparently ‘books aren’t presents’ which I’m choosing to interpret as ‘books are such an essential that they don’t count’…). We joined our dear ‘chosen family’ here in Harare for an Eid brunch of shami kebabs (
On the second day of Eid, Avi took the children into town to collect the meat from our ‘qurban’ or sacrifice. Eid al Adha is observed by the ritual slaughter of an animal: usually a sheep, or a goat, or a cow - with most of the meat then being distributed among the poor. In the UK, most people pay to have their qurbani done overseas, and so I arranged the qurbani for some of my family members to be done here in Zimbabwe where there is no shortage, sadly, of people in need. The qurbani service is incredibly well-organised and run entirely by WhatsApp - I placed my order (see below for a rates list) and was asked how I would like the meat to be butchered - did I want a leg kept whole for roasting? (yes); did I want the head and feet? (no).
We agreed how much the organisers would distribute on our behalf and how much we would collect to distribute ourselves. We were then sent videos and photographs of the distribution in the local communities. It felt much more tangible than it does in the UK - we were really involved in the communal act of sharing, and the slaughter was far closer to Islamic principles of higher welfare than the mechanised process involved in so much industrial farming - halal or otherwise. On the third day of Eid, friends came over with their children and we made Lina’s ghraibi with everyone having great fun rolling the balls of dough with sticky little toddler hands, flattening them, and eating them once they came out of the oven!
In case all of this sounds very lovely and festive, that’s because it was. But at times…it felt as though I was going through the motions. There was a persistent shadow - not just in my mind, but felt by so many others right now - a wondering of how, can, should - we even be celebrating when so many in the world are in such desperate situations. On the few times I check the news over the weekend, I saw headlines of yet more atrocities.
On the same day we were brunching, news broke of Gazans being killed by Israel while seeking food. While I was rolling biscuits with my kids, the children of Khan Younis were playing in ruins. While we offered Eid prayer in the comfort of our own home, people in Deir al Balah were worshipping beside the rubble that had once been their mosque.
It is natural to feel guilt when confronted with such disparities between our reality and that of others. But guilt is the cost of what it means to be living in the present day, with our governments who are complicit in funding a genocide that is being paid for, in part, by the taxes we pay. Guilt is also a fundamentally indulgent response. Far more powerful is the sense of responsibility and duty. There are things we can - must - do. In a world that is so wracked with pain, the answer isn’t to erase any last vestiges of joy. But neither is it to turn away from suffering.
Action: no matter the price
Last month, together with the wonderful aforementioned Angela Zaher, I drafted an open letter to Prime Minister Keir Starmer from the UK’s food industry calling for action against Israel’s deliberate and systematic campaign of starvation against the people of Gaza.
As we write in the letter:
‘Food is both our livelihood and our language. We cannot stand by while Israel prevents essential supplies of food, medicine, fuel, and other aid, from reaching those in need.’
And so many others felt the same. In just 3 days we had collected over 1000 signatures from food professionals: writers, editors, chefs, restaurateurs, PRs, stylists, content creators, nutritionists, photographers, and more. Some of the most recognisable names in food signed, shared, sent messages of support - this was grassroots action driven by a collective sense of humanity. The letter was sent to the Prime Minister. We are in the process of forming a more established coalition of food professionals who are committed to doing more.
But we are all too aware that speaking up can come at a price. A few days ago, Britain’s foodie sweetheart, Nadiya Hussain revealed on Instagram that the BBC decided not to commission her most recent food programme following her public support of Palestinians - she also signed the open letter. It’s a reminder of the risk undertaken by those people who signed the letter - especially those who, like me , have books coming out in the next few weeks (or have recently come out): Yasmin Khan’s Sabzi, Felicity Cloake’s Peach Street to Lobster Lane, Sami Tamimi’s Boustany, Olia Hercules’ Strong Roots, Ruby Tandoh’s All Consuming; Julie Lin’s Sama Sama; and my own The Jackfruit Chronicles.
All run the very real risk of being silenced, having events pulled, collaborations cancelled. Some of our signatories to the letter have been threatened by the lobby group ‘UK Lawyers for Israel’ (who notoriously asserted that the starvation of Gazans should be seen as a positive in the context of reducing obesity) with complaints made to their employers and professional boards.
And yet, despite the attempts at suppression, it has been faith-restoring to see so many people setting comfort aside to do the right thing, and stand by their principles. If we want the good things in life - celebration, joy, freedom - we need to take on the responsibility to grapple with the hard things - and do the work and not look away.
Shahnaz x
If you’re a member of the food industry want to show your support, you can add your signature here. We will keep you updated about the food coalition movement and how you can help.
My dear Shahnaz your thorough description and emotions indicates you are a gem. 💎 I believe that if we carry on walking forward and not worry about who silence and cancel us then we can see a change at the end of the Tunnel.
Sending you lots of love and hugsxxx Gaza in our prayer 🤲