Why Mangia 876?
As I type this post I am lying in my apartment in Clapham, London. My uncle and aunt visiting from Toronto are in the next room, sleeping late after another great vacation day last night. London on August 18th was absolutely beautiful, clear blue sky, yellow sun, happy people in shorts and flip-flops and cold fruity drinks. This was not the vision I had for my life. This was not the picture, for my imagination though vast was still limited. However reality has overwhelmed all my dreams. I would have nothing but this reality now. And I did not get here on my own. I have had women who have stepped onto the road of my life and caused a shift, opening up new pathways through their love, guidance and friendship. Mangia 876 is my way of thanking all those women by being one of those women. Mangia 876 is the next wonderful addition to my life. Fusing Italian and Jamaican cuisines and culture at a fundraising food event. All proceeds ( after expenses) will benefit the St. Andrew Parish Church Girls Home in Kingston. My involvement in the Home is no accident. It was a special interest of one of those women in my life. My friend Grace Duncan was convinced that there was a basic goodness in humanity and that what we needed was dialogue, communication, good food and action. She was a tireless volunteer and committed to nation building through service. She gently tried to encourage the generations after her to become a part of action but I was more committed to pontificating, preaching against what was clearly wrong and stridently proclaiming what was right. And besides I thought she would always be here to help us make taking action easier. She isn't. She died in September 2010 and sometimes her loss is a dull throbbing thing shrouded in disbelief.
She turned me on to cooking but never without a twist. Long before I dreamed I would ever get to Italy she had me frying up bammy soaked in milk, garlic and parsley at her annual Christmas morning breakfast, which fed upwards of fifty people each year. I saw my first set of La Creuset pots in her kitchen. When I said I was leaving Jamaica for England, she took me for lunch in Hope Gardens and over lentil stew and brown rice we spoke of the impetus which was propelling me outward and the centrifugal force which she did not doubt would eventually pull me inexorably home. But she blessed me. She knew I had to search. One seeker always knows another.
And oh what I have found. Worlds within worlds, different cultures and tongues but always common humanity. And common suffering too. The pain of loss and difference looks the same everywhere. Just as the commitment to help crosses borders and colours. For me it is time to help. I am answering her call to action. She would have loved this idea of breaking bread with a twist and sharing in our common humanity and spreading our Jamaican culture across another landscape, of knowing who we are but sharing it and becoming a part of something bigger. If the funds we raise can help one girl in her quest to be who she dreams she can be then it will be enough.