Desmond Tutu, anti-apartheid leader and voice of justice, dead at 90
(CNN)Archbishop Desmond Tutu, the Nobel Peace Prize-winning Anglican cleric whose good humor, inspiring message and conscientious work for civi
(CNN)Archbishop Desmond Tutu, the Nobel Peace Prize-winning Anglican cleric whose good humor, inspiring message and conscientious work for civi
Editor's note: This story was originally published in November 2016 and has been updated.
The sweet potato evokes surprisingly strong feelings — and not just from the pro- and anti-marshmallow lobbies.
It is a staple of the African diet. And Africans feel passionately about it. It kindles warm memories. It's a neglected food that deserves a higher profile because of its nutritional value.
And yet some people can't stand it!
We're sharing the perspectives of three African sweet potato eaters and a U.S. food scientist who's bringing sweet potatoes to more tables in Africa.
Growing up on a small farm in rural Zimbabwe, I liked to sing the song "Chimbambaira chiri mupoto. Ndodya nani?"
In Shona, my mother language, that means: "That sweet potato in the pot. Who should I eat it with?"
In the early 1990s, the song was popularized by the Zimbabwean musician Oliver Mtukudzi. After I moved to the U.S., this number became my favorite Thanksgiving song as it celebrates both the amazing tuber and the joys of companionship.
In my village, sweet potatoes came in many colors, shapes and tastes. Everything from round to long and slender, white to deep purple skin, white to yellow flesh, supersweet to nutty flavor.
My mother loved the easy preparation (boil and serve), but we also ate them raw or roasted them on an open fire. There is simply no bad way to prepare sweet potatoes.
At some point sweet potatoes faded from our diets as more farmers started growing Irish potatoes. It's easy to understand why. They could grow more white potatoes than sweet potatoes in the same unit of land, and growing time was shorter.
But the white potato is no match for the sweet potato in nutritional value. Loaded with vitamins (A, C, B1, B2, B3 and B6) and minerals (copper, manganese, phosphorus and potassium), sweet potatoes rival any superfood at a fraction of the cost. White potatoes have fewer and lower levels of vitamins and minerals. Nonetheless, Irish potatoes became commonplace. In the 1990s and early 2000s, sweet potatoes were an "orphan crop," largely ignored by agricultural development organizations.
Thanks to efforts to breed and distribute improved varieties of sweet potatoes, they're making a comeback in many African countries. These varieties are rewarding for farmers — more harvest for the same amount of effort. They're sweeter to the taste. And they have higher levels of vitamin A than past generations of sweet potatoes.
Going beyond the world of food, "sweet potato" is also an endearing term used by many Zimbabweans. As teenage boys we composed love letters with lines like "You will forever be my sweet potato" or signed "Your sweet potato." Very few foods have made this magical leap into the world of romance. Yes, I admit to uttering the words, "My sweet potato, please pass the sweet potatoes."
Edward Mabaya is an agricultural economist with a passion for uplifting smallholder farmers in Africa. He is a 2016 Aspen Institute New Voices Fellow. Follow him on Twitter at @edmabaya
As a Coloradoan, I have fond memories of my grandmother's delicious sweet potato Thanksgiving dish: mashed, lots of brown sugar mixed in and melted marshmallows on top. I adored it.
But my strongest sweet potato memory is from 2003, when I was just starting to introduce orange-fleshed sweet potatoes into one of the poorest provinces in Central Mozambique. Zambรจzia province had taken in more than 1 million people who were internally displaced during the country's 15-year civil war, and malnutrition was quite evident. Sixty-nine percent of young children were suffering from vitamin A deficiency.
In most of sub-Saharan Africa, people only knew of sweet potato varieties that were white inside — the types that came to Africa from South America in the 1600s. Unfortunately, white-fleshed varieties have no beta carotene, which the body converts into vitamin A. One small orange-fleshed root meets the daily vitamin A needs of a young child.
(And we're talking sweet potatoes, not yams. In America, sweet potatoes (Ipomoea batatas) are often incorrectly called yams — a totally different tuber crop (Dioscorea spp.) grown widely in West Africa that is white inside.)
We'd go from village to village, invite leaders and women with young children to come to a cooking demonstration and offer a sample of orange-fleshed sweet potatoes. The children were immediately attracted to the color of the boiled roots and dug in. I remember one young child, about 3 years old, who just kept eating: 1 potato, 2 then 3. He was so happy and so hungry.
When he reached for a fourth sweet potato, I told his mother this was just too much all at once, he would make himself sick. I went home knowing that children would happily eat orange sweet potatoes. And having tasted the roots, the mothers readily accepted the planting material of the sweet potato to grow for the next season.
The International Potato Center and its partners are now promoting vitamin A-rich, orange-fleshed sweet potatoes in 14 sub-Saharan Africa countries as "the sweet that gives health." We are also advocating the use of steamed and mashed orange-fleshed sweet potatoes as a substitute for 35 percent of wheat flour in bread.
So give thanks to this flexible, climate-resilient source of calories that can help bring health and wealth to smallholder farmers. And in this difficult year of floods and droughts, vines are being distributed to disaster-affected households in Madagascar, Ethiopia and Mozambique to get sweet potato production back on track.
Jan Low is principal scientist at the International Potato Center, and one of four 2016 World Food Prize laureates for her "efforts in breeding and disseminating the orange-fleshed sweet potato."
A boiled sweet potato and a glass of milk were my daily staple as a kid growing up in rural western Uganda. That was the morning meal that kept me going during my daily 8.8-mile run to school (and home again). There quite literally was no such thing as a school lunch (and unfortunately there still isn't in many of the public primary schools I've visited across the country).
Lack of food is a serious and ongoing problem.
According to USAID, in Uganda "33 percent of children under age five are stunted (have low height-for-age), while 4 percent are acutely malnourished or wasted (have low weight-for-height)."
And some households may only have one meal a day.
I know firsthand how challenging it can be to learn on an empty stomach. Indeed, a lack of sufficient energy and nutrients has been linked to "poor mental development and school achievement as well as behavioral abnormalities," reports a study on "Long-Lasting Effects of Undernutrition."
Growing up, I sometimes wished for a more balanced breakfast and maybe a lunch. But looking back now, I'm grateful to my grandmother for the daily provision of a sweet potato and a glass of milk.
And looking ahead, I am worried about all the schoolchildren of Uganda. Schools have been closed for more than a year because of the pandemic. The president has promised they will reopen in January. Our local and national governments need to address food shortages in our communities, or millions will return to school eager to learn — but hungry.
James Kassaga Arinaitwe is the co-founder and CEO of Teach For Uganda. He's an Aspen Institute New Voices Fellow, a 2015 Global Fellow at Acumen and an alumnus of the Global Health Corps Fellowship. He tweets @Kassaga4UG.
Growing up in the 1980s and early '90s on the Kenyan Coast, I did not have the privilege to choose the foods I could eat. Rather, my parents would serve my siblings and me the food that was in season or that had survived the scorching sun, insect pests and plant diseases — harvested from their farm or purchased at the market.
Most of the time, these food crops included cassava, pumpkin, the "boko boko" banana — and sweet potatoes. Plenty of sweet potatoes.
Sweet potatoes as well as pumpkins and cassava were the go-to breakfast, lunch and dinner food. They were the everyday food whether we liked it or not. Of course, there was only one way they were cooked — and that was by boiling. Day in day out, we would consume these foods. Ultimately, it got to a point where we could not take sweet potatoes and cassava anymore. And yes, there were times we chose to go hungry rather than eat sweet potatoes. That's right: We children would rather skip lunch and dinner and go hungry than eat the same old sweet potatoes and cassava.
These experiences with sweet potatoes and cassava while growing up made me hate these foods as an adult. And I am not alone. Many of my family members, including my brother and three sisters, do not love sweet potatoes and cassava at all. As a matter of fact, after we grew up, our parents stopped growing them. No one and I mean no one — had any more appetite for these root vegetables.
My hate for sweet potatoes is still active today. I know it is many people's favorite food, especially during Thanksgiving, but as for me, I still say NO to sweet potatoes. They remind me of what it's like to grow up without a balanced diet, without being able to choose what kind of food you'd like to eat each day.
But in a corner of my heart, I do appreciate the sweet potato. I'm grateful that my parents had sweet potatoes to serve us. And maybe one day – say in another 10 years or so — I'll overcome my negative feelings and see what it's like to eat a luxurious sweet potato side dish – perhaps topped with marshmallows!
Esther Ngumbi is a researcher at the University of Illinois and a New Voices Fellow at the Aspen Institute.
Business owners are hoping that a $1 million federal grant aimed at revitalizing Little Jamaica will help to boost the profile of the historic community in Toronto.
The owners said on Sunday the money is coming at a good time because Black-owned businesses along Eglinton Avenue West, mostly located between Marlee Avenue and Oakwood Avenue, have been struggling since 2011 to stay open.
First, businesses in the area had to contend with Eglinton Crosstown construction. More recently, they had to deal with COVID-19 pandemic restrictions. More than 50 Black-owned businesses in Little Jamaica have closed their doors in the past five years.
"It was a challenge, but I endured. I held on," said Sheryl Bryan Phillips, owner of Judy's Island Grill, a small restaurant that serves authentic Caribbean cuisine at 1720 Eglinton Ave. W.
"2018, I think, was our best year. After that, the pandemic hit. Oh, I'm telling you, it was going down. Things have gotten better since we reopened."
The restaurant, in operation for nearly seven years, bills itself as "Bringing the Taste of the Island to you." On its walls, there are photos of Bob Marley, the Jamaican reggae singer, songwriter and musician who died in 1981, and retired Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt.
Bryan Phillips said she is starting to see familiar faces again, along with more foot traffic, but what the community needs is customers from outside the area.
"One time my sister, who helped me to get this business, said: 'Why don't you file for bankruptcy? I don't know why you are still going.' But something within me was pushing me to continue. This is what I'm destined for. This is my passion," Bryan Phillips said.
The grant, from the Federal Economic Development Agency for Southern Ontario, has enabled the opening of a satellite office of the Black Business and Professional Association (BBPA), a non-profit charitable organization formed in 1983 that serves to address equity and opportunity for the Black community in business, employment, education and economic development.
Although the grant was announced earlier this year, the BBPA office opened last week at 1621 Eglinton Ave. W.
Frances Delsol, executive director of the BBPA, said the grant will be used to fund programs for Black-owned and operated businesses in Little Jamaica. It will let Toronto know that Little Jamaica is open for business, she said.
She said the LRT construction and pandemic have taken a serious toll on businesses in the area. Earlier this year, the BBPA handed out $150,000 in grants to 33 Little Jamaica businesses to help them pay rent or utilities. The hope is that LRT construction will soon be over, she said.
The area was home to many people of Jamaican and Caribbean descent who moved to Toronto in the 1950s and 1960s. It used to be home to hundreds of Black-owned businesses. Five years ago, it had more than 110 Black-owned businesses. Today, there are about 45 in the area.
"We have seen a degradation of the community in terms of the number of businesses there. And we are here to solidify those who are remaining and to try to bring others in so the culture of what Little Jamaica is continues to remain," Delsol said.
Delsol said the community is appreciative of the federal money.
"We are going to be offering programs that will help them not only thrive but have sustainability for the long term," she said.
"This community has a culture to it. If we can't sustain the businesses who are here, then we are going to have an infusion of new businesses. We are going to have a different type of culture in this area.
"It's important that not just Toronto, but Canada understands the historic significance of this area. It was built on the backs of people who came from Jamaica and the rest of the Caribbean. If we don't encourage sustainability of this culture, it is going to die. And it is a part of us that we cannot allow to die. We have to help sustain it."
Stuart Brown, owner of Reggae Cafe, a restaurant that specializes in Jamaican seafood and a large event space at 1653 Eglinton Ave. W., said he believes the $1 million grant should be used mainly to help Little Jamaica businesses get back to full operation. It should also be used on marketing, incentives for customers to come back and efforts to clean up the area, he said.
The business has been in operation since 2013 and Brown took it over from his dad in 2018. His second location in Sarnia, Ont., currently sustains the Toronto one.
Brown said he has lost revenue during the LRT construction period because customers have found it difficult to find parking. He said the grant will help businesses in the area, but LRT construction needs to end to enable customers to access the area.
He agrees that it's important to sustain the area.
"It's cultural. Everybody comes to Eglinton for something. I used to come for my hair cut. This is where my mom brought me all the time. Actually, this is where she moved when she came from Jamaica. This is where my grandmother and grandfather came when they moved from Jamaica. It's heritage here," he said.
"A lot of people who are Jamaican come to this specific area, Little Jamaica, just because they can access the stuff that's on their island."
As for the BBPA, it opened its Eglinton West office to allow local business owners to share ideas with each other. It has also hired a marketing agency, Konvo Media, to help implement its programs.
The BBPA plans to run the following programs:
For more stories about the experiences of Black Canadians — from anti-Black racism to success stories within the Black community — check out Being Black in Canada, a CBC project Black Canadians can be proud of. You can read more stories here.