Cherishing Food: A Journey of Conscious Cooking Amidst Adversity

 Title: Cherishing Food: A Journey of Conscious Cooking Amidst Adversity

Dr.Soraya Fallah

Food evokes ambivalent feelings within me. On one hand, I firmly believe that we are what we eat, and thus, it's imperative to consume well-prepared, nutritious, and wholesome meals. Yet, on the other hand, the bitter memories of wartime scarcity and the sheer exhaustion that came with it linger in my mind. The impossibility of importing essential items and the shortage of food in the city—these realities still unsettle me to my core.

Let's go back to my kitchen. In my kitchen, every aspect of food preparation carries weight. Cleanliness, quality ingredients, and staying to the end of prepared food are non-negotiable. Over the years, I tried to change my way of cooking; one day, I might stop forever, or maybe not. For years, I have been attempting to reduce making dirty dishes, but the way I cook, enduring disagreements with my husband over the necessity of nightly dishwasher runs.

My husband is annoying. I tried every single way to change him, but he still gets upset when he dishes. 

Last October marked a turning point. A heated argument led to a personal crisis, compelling me to hand wash every item used in cooking. It was a moment of reclaiming control, of reaffirming my commitment to conscious cooking.

Cooking remains a challenge, a task I don't inherently relish. Yet, my approach sets me apart. I don gloves, carefully select non-expired ingredients, and use more than enough for an army. I am trying to remember when my food was insufficient for two or three families. My measurement of people's stomachs is wrong. Despite the complexities, I persevere because food is significant in my culture.

Food isn't merely sustenance; it's the essence of family gatherings, a medium of expression, and a symbol of love and respect. This reverence for food stems from our tumultuous past, where war casts a long shadow of scarcity and uncertainty. We put all we have on the table not just out of tradition but as a testament to our resilience and gratitude for what we have.

Each dish is more than just a meal; it's a reminder of our shared history, our capacity to endure, and our unwavering commitment to cherish every moment.

Grieving for our burned and buried books

 

My burned and buried books Story

By: Dr,Soraya Fallah

In a heartbreaking display of resilience and love for literature, this photograph captures a moment of both sorrow and determination in my father's life. Amongst the cherished remnants of our home library, carefully preserved despite the devastation wrought by the Iranian government's Revolutionary Guard, lies a story of profound loss and unwavering hope. Many of our treasured books met a tragic fate in the flames or were buried, sacrificed to the oppressive forces of censorship and persecution.

My father, questioned for his possession of Kurdish and social justice related Persian literature, stood firm in the face of adversity, offering his children a lesson in courage and perseverance. As we mourned the loss of our beloved books, my father's words echoed with wisdom: "They can be found later, but you cannot be replaced if they kill you." With heavy hearts, we bid farewell to the volumes that had shaped our minds and hearts, but my father's decision to move the remaining books to his mother's bedroom spoke volumes about his determination to safeguard knowledge against tyranny.

Despite the hardships endured, the influence of those early literary treasures remained indelible, leaving an enduring legacy that continues to resonate in our lives. In a moment of innocence and insight, my younger sister confusingly questioned why they (referred to Islamic government) wants you to burn  these books. "They're scared of them," my father replied simply. "They have fear if these books exist, they won't." This exchange captured the essence of our family's struggle – the power of knowledge to challenge authority, to inspire change, and to endure even in the face of oppression. Today, as I look upon the library in my own home, lovingly displayed in the dining room alongside my partner, I am reminded that as long as we endure, so too will the power of books. In our free country, there is no scarcity of knowledge, no fear of censorship or persecution. We are the custodians of our own stories, and through the preservation of literature, we honor the resilience of the human spirit and the enduring legacy of those who dared to defy oppression.