Whatever That Is, I’m Going To Eat It
A few days before Iddi, I was in my bungalow on the property where I lived. There were four bungalows, but because it was the pandemic, I was the only guest — along with a cook, the cleaner, and her fiancé. It was secluded, far from the main village on the beach, and I spent most of my time alone, surrounded by nature and animals: monkeys, cows, goats, millipedes.
There was a large mirror in my bungalow, and that morning, for some reason, I turned to look at my back. What I saw surprised me. The bones were starting to show.
I was three years into my intentional work of eating, and five months past my last counseling with a nutritionist and therapists. For four months I had been surrounded by people who did not always eat every day — some went to bed hungry, or waited for their one meal until late so they could sleep through the night with a full belly. Because I had been nourishing myself on purpose, I could see clearly this time, without lying to myself. What the mirror showed me was simple: I was not getting enough nourishment. It didn’t matter whether it was carbohydrates or protein; my body needed more.
Then came Iddi, the day of celebration after a month of fasting in the coastal villages of mainland Tanzania. I was on the back of a motorcycle with someone I called my friend, driving a dusty dirt road lined with vendors on the ocean side, headed back from the ferry toward the village. Suddenly I smelled food and told my friend to stop. I wanted to eat whatever that smell was. He turned to me and said, “But Stacy, that’s meat. You don’t eat meat.” I told him my body needed the nourishment, and I ate it.
It was the first meat I’d had in 25 years. I had stopped because of how animals are treated (caged, given steroids and medicine for mass production) not because I disliked the meat. And I had always told myself that if I ever needed meat again for my health, I would. Now I did.
Back home, I was never concerned about having food. My only concern was not having exactly what I wanted, when I wanted it. On the coast of Tanzania there is no Häagen-Dazs, no Ben & Jerry’s, no pizza joint, no grocery store, only villages living on fishing, farming, cattle, goats, and what others bring in. That day I understood: eating was never about pleasure and restaurants. Eating is about nourishing the self. I am required to eat so the body has its fuel.
Sometimes when everything you could desire surrounds you every day, it clouds your knowing of what actually matters. Eating real food that nourishes the body, consistently, matters. It took traveling halfway around the world during a pandemic, and living through Ramadan, for me to finally understand the importance of food.
Stacy 🌺
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I share my experiences and my perspective. Eating and healing look different for everyone. If you are struggling with food or your relationship with your body, please find support. You don’t have to do this alone.