We know that we mark our lives by rituals and traditions. It is a part of what makes us who we are. It is a way of passing on knowledge. As we begin Holy Week leading up to Easter and seeing all the advertisements about placing orders of Cross Buns, I can’t help but recall a time when it was more about the making and sharing of Cross Buns rather than buying commercially made ones. Part of the tradition was the act of sharing.
Making certain foods, beverages and treats has been part of our way of life regardless of religion, ethnicity or cultural background. We create, we cook, we bake, we share. At Phagwah we look forward to all the savoury fritters and accompanying spicy condiments, at Eid it’s the mitai and sirnee, on Ash Wednesday, it’s about the pancakes, at Christmas it’s Black cake and in Holy Week, it’s about the Cross Buns. Actually, part of the joy of these occasions (mostly religious) is partaking in the giving and receiving. It’s not really about the item or items themselves but the act. The act of sharing.
Over the years since writing this column, I have received many notes and emails (including my personal ones I have written to you through this column), about not bothering to pay attention to how certain things were done or made – for a variety of reasons. At the time we weren’t interested; we figured that we did not need to know these things because our loved ones would always be around to make them for us; and, let’s be honest, many of these things are/were intimidating to make and require some kind of specialist knowledge and years of practice. Think to this day how excited and show-and-tell people are when they attempt to make paratha roti and it comes out soft, flakey, and leafy; or bake a loaf of bread or a sponge cake.
When I lived in Guyana, I never liked or was interested in Cross Buns. On the occasions that I ate them – Holy Thursday evening or Good Friday morning – it was because that was what my Mother insisted we have. However, in my first year away from home, I insisted that I learn to make Cross Buns. Sometimes (or perhaps often times) it takes being away from home to appreciate certain things.
Getting back to the act of sharing. These days so many things are ordered; we’re not really making many things. Are we losing something here? Are we losing knowledge and skill that can only be learnt by doing? Information and traditions that we need to pass on to tell our stories and of who we are? Are we losing the ability to create and make things our own? For example, I know that the Cross Buns that I make today are not the Cross Buns that my Mother made. Neither is better than the other, they are each perfect in their own right because they are representative of who we are and we’ve put our stamp or our signature so to speak on something that is uniquely ours. And that’s how it should be. Taste is subjective. There is a certain togetherness and generosity of a community in the act of sharing.
Every year I make Cross Buns, not for myself but to share with my friends. I usually have one or two and that’s good enough for me. However, every year, I look forward to the baking spree of making the buns because I enjoy the act of sharing. Even before they left, I’d channel my loved ones and be thankful that I have something to pass on, a tradition, a ritual that connects and lets me know that I belong. And while I enjoy the look on the faces of my friends when they drop by to pick up their Cross Buns, I am equally joyful when my friend Michelle sends Cross Buns for me that she has made. The act of sharing is a beautiful thing.
Cynthia
cynthia@tasteslikehome.org
