‘Tasting’ the identities wrapped up in food

ON the first day of Ramadan, March 23, I received a surprise food delivery from Mohamad (not his real name), a 26-year-old former postgrad student. Moha-mad’s mother had prepared kouyteav sachko (mee Champa), a Cambodian soup noodle dish for my iftar-cum-dinner.

Mohamad’s parents are refugees from Siem Reap, Cambodia, who came here in the 1970s. According to historical and ethnographic materials, about 250,000 Cambodians and Vietnamese people (sometimes called “boat people”) arrived in droves, fleeing persecution and unjust death. Of these, about 10,000 were accepted in Malaysia and some received permanent resident status.

According to UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees) data for 2023, Malaysia is now hosting 183,790 refugees and asylum seekers from more than 50 countries.

Big cities like George Town, Kuala Lumpur, and Petaling Jaya provide a glimpse of these multi- ethnic communities through the colourful array of food inspired by the different national cuisines on offer in everything from high end restaurants to kopitiams and hawker stalls.

In Kota Kinabalu I never fail to visit what’s called the Filipino market when I am in town since it is the only place where I can feast on the fresh seaweed (lato and guso) that takes me back to my childhood when Mum would prepare it as a salad almost every day.

This market is where locals shop daily for vegetables, fish, meat, and dried seafood, and it’s the best indicator of how food- secure local communities are, especially when farmers and fishers come to sell their produce and wares directly to consumers.

Both domestic tourists from outside Sabah and international visitors flock to the market to try the array of food, and this is where you can observe the close connections among food, the people, and their identity, indelibly marked, even in the way they arrange their goods on the table.

In Sarawak, at any local market in any part of the state, you will find an array of agricultural and jungle produce marking the diverse ethnic food made in everyone’s home kitchen. Wild ferns, mushrooms, bamboo shoots, and tubers, as well as exquisite fruits such as the golden yellow durian and empalang offer flavourful combinations in favourite ethnic dishes.

Despite a population of just a little over 2.5 million in the vast state, market food products demonstrate a plethora of cuisines from different locales and ethnic groups. Popular dishes like ayam pansoh, Sarawak laksa, kolo mee, garlic-fried midin fern, bamboo clams with local green leaves, and – my favourite – cangkuk manis (a leafy green veg) with whipped egg, are all never-to-be-missed-dishes if you are in Sarawak.

Food is an extension of one’s self. It reflects one’s culture, identity, and class. Food carries a lot of meaning: who prepares it, what local ingredients are available, how it is prepared, who consumes it, and how is it shared all say something about a people. That’s why the culinary ecosystem of big towns and cities often mirrors their diverse ethnic communities.

In Malaysia, we tend to categorise people according to race, religion or even politics, often forgetting that people’s identities can also be viewed through the lens of food. The next time we sample new dishes, I hope we will be reminded of the face of a people behind the food and the circumstances of why they are in our country. My ex-student’s mee Champa is not just any mee soup. It is a constant reminder of his identity encompassed in unique ingredients, tastes, and flavours.

DR LINDA LUMAYANG

Research Fellow, Ungku Aziz Centre for Development Studies

Universiti Malaya