Recently published in my Salty Magazine Vol 4. Make Food Not War, a slogan I first heard at the MAD Food Symposium in Copenhagen from Kamal Mouzawak of Lebanon. A fascinating speaker whose inspiring message is about bringing people together on a common ground of humanity and ethics using food as a weapon. Passionate, with definite... Read More
Recently published in my Salty Magazine Vol 4.
Make Food Not War, a slogan I first heard at the MAD Food Symposium in Copenhagen from Kamal Mouzawak of Lebanon. A fascinating speaker whose inspiring message is about bringing people together on a common ground of humanity and ethics using food as a weapon. Passionate, with definite opinions on a subject that is close to his heart, and unstoppable when it comes to realizing his dream of improving lives by fostering a positive food culture in his country, he is not a man of few words.
Born in a family of farmers in Lebanon this culinary activist is on a mission to inspire societal change using the power of food. A well-traveled former food and travel writer, Mouzawak says, “People express their culture and traditions in many ways, through costumes, architecture, food, and poetry, but still food is the best expression of our tradition”. In his case, he is using traditional Lebanese food and a brigade of female chefs from varied cultures and religions in his part of the world to do just that.
Why women? “Women mean a lot when we speak of cuisine, as it’s not just about top chefs and agroindustries when we are on the subject of food.” The 20-member team that traveled to MAD with him in 2013 cooked an unforgettable meal that was exotic yet simple, bursting with flavors and colors. Most remarkably it was cooked by women from different regions and religious sects, including refugees from Palestine and Syria. Later that evening, I spent time with the close-knit group and was struck by their camaraderie and the ease with which they were able to disregard their differences and bond around the stoves. They shared stories of how these opportunities to cook, travel, and become financially independent had changed not just their lives but those of their families and their communities. Kamal modestly says they have done it themselves and “we are all catalysts of change for each other.”
As for bringing people together, “Why give people labels based on their skin color, religious and political beliefs because it’s so easy to exclude others” said Kamal when we spoke about it later. This conflict resolution using food is a celebration of this very diversity amongst people. The Lebanese greetings, “Hi kifek ca va“ or “Okay merci kteer” are really in three languages (English, Arabic and French) put together, and as Kamal says the Lebanese identity is truly one of diversity.
Lebanon is a small country on the Mediterranean shores where, in the words of Kamal, the “concept of the other does not exist.” The population of 5 million is split fifty-fifty between the predominantly Christian and Muslim residents, half city dwellers and the other half in the countryside. It is a country where politics and religion differ and often divide where during the period of strife and wars, the country was split up restricting travel within the regional borders.
In 1991, after the end of the war in Lebanon, Kamal was commissioned to write a guide book about Lebanon and during his travels for research he realized that those he had perceived to be on the other side were in fact just like him. That was when he began to dream of bringing people together and reviving traditions using food as a bridge. The starting point was Souk el Tayeb in 2004, the first organized farmers’ market in the country, followed in 2009 with the Tawlet (table) – a unique restaurant concept where every day in the open kitchen, a cook from a different village puts together a typical meal from her regional repertoire, serving it as a buffet or a more affordable plat du jour.
The restaurant space is designed and intended to feel like home “because home is a space of trust where you are not guarded and open to being close to others.” Five more Tawlets and a teaching kitchen have opened since, in addition to Beit’s (or B&B’s) all over the country. The aim is to not just to bring the rural producers to the city, but to create an equilibrium between the rural and urban areas by encouraging equal development in both.
Kamal believes the villages and cities are not antagonistic, but complement and support each other in what he refers to as a human development project. This is a man on a mission with no time to waste – not even for watching tv as he says it clutters the mind, not unlike poor food choices do for our system. And so he is working to ensure that there are more healthy choices with sustainable and organic products at the Souk, in the Tawlets and the Beits.
Mouzawak has authored four books, the latest about a road trip around the country and the cooks and their recipes from different regions of the country. He often takes the stage at international forums to share his message of inclusion and hope.
How did the “Make Food Not War” slogan come about?
We used to collaborate at one point with an organization who used the slogan on many of their activities, and they suggested we use Make Food Not War. It was an organization headed by a lady named Lara Lee, and it was called Cultures of Resistance. They mainly make movies about activists around the world. So it was Lara Lee and her team who chose the slogan for us.
How did you end up at MAD? You were also there at the first symposium?
Yes, I was at the first one. I travel a lot and I always dreamt of traveling. Besides I don’t consider the world different, and when I go to Copenhagen, I’m not in a different country, just somewhere else. For me, the world has not moved, it’s just different. I’m always very curious to discover one and then other places. I’m not rich, and I always found a way to travel though I didn’t travel to Europe before I was maybe 24 years old. I always found ways, reasons and means to be able to go somewhere.
So when I heard of Noma, and I had never been to Copenhagen before, I wanted to go there. So the moment Denmark became part of the Schengen, I realized it would be easier to go. Instead of taking a Danish visa, I went with a Schengen visa. It was the beginning stage of Noma. It was still very young and a very new place, well before it was recognized by anyone.
This is the story that René tells. It’s always very weird to have a lonely diner and I was dining alone at Noma. At one point, René comes and talks to me, and I introduce myself. I tell him what I do, and it stayed in his mind. He followed me. There wasn’t much of social media back then. But he followed my work, let’s say.
When they wanted to do the first edition of MAD, it was 10:00 p.m. in Lebanon. I was sleeping in Batroun in my house, I sleep very early, and my phone rang and I answered. He said, “Hello, this is René Redzepi. Do you remember me?” I told him, “Is this a joke or you’re for real René Redzepi?” He said, “No, no, it’s not a joke.” I was like, “Sure I remember you, René. How can I not know you? You’re joking or what?” He said, “I’ve been planning this thing, and I would love for you to talk.” It like blew my mind. I told him, “Well, is this a joke again, or is this for real?” This is how it happened.
Thus I came and spoke at MAD for the first event. And then two years later, he said, “It’s ridiculous for us to cater for this event. I would like even the food to be a message. And as the first people to cook, I would like you and the ladies to be there. We came, all 20 of us. It was one of the most memorable experiences of our lives.
It was so special and one of my best memories at MAD.
It’s not about the quality of the meal. It’s the emotion. You know, Geeta, because we always forget, today food is an industry. It’s called food and beverage, F&B. We forget the very important dimension of food, which is the domestic dimension of food. Food is now about agroindustry, big industries who produce food and feed us. Or it’s about this fancy, sophisticated gastronomic restaurant and in the restaurant, whether it’s a man or a woman, it’s always a competition.
It’s always about ego. It’s always about performance. Then you forget that food is that what your mother or your grandmother who was there and who was in charge of feeding you, and by feeding you perpetuated your life. It’s about your mother. People are always sexist about this and say, “No, it’s sexism.” No, it’s not sexism. It’s just that women can do something better than men, which is carrying a baby for nine months.
So it’s a natural thing that women can do, which is extraordinary that stupid men cannot do. We forget this dimension of food that is very related to feeding life and very related to women and not to men. We forget this feminine and domestic dimension of food. And it only gets to be about who has the best foie gras and… Okay, this is performance. That’s wonderful. But this is not food. Food is something else.
What was your motivation behind the first Souk el Tayeb in 2004?
It just happened. It wasn’t planned and I didn’t think about it. It was just an evolution that led from one thing to another while I was just trying to do the right thing at that time. I am a son of farmers and producers and studied graphic design but never pursued it or worked in that field. In fact, even before having finished my studies, I was working in the first cultural center established after the war. It taught me a lot about the importance of having a common project to bring people together, beyond their differences.
At that time, I heard about the Slow Food Organization and went to the second Terra Madre held in Turin where I first heard about macrobiotics. One thing led to another, and I ended up studying macrobiotic cuisine and later started teaching macrobiotic cuisine. That led to collaborating a lot with Slow Food, and I sat on the board of the organization for a few years. During that time I was working as a food and travel writer, and I remember in those days it was very difficult to travel across borders and not very safe either.
The year was 2004 and there was the first garden show to be held in Lebanon. The organizers of the garden show asked me to take care of the food section for five days. I named it the garden’s fruits, fruits as in the wealth of the garden and of the land. It had a great success though I had just 10 farmers and producers that I used to know or write about in those days. After these five days, I said, “Well, it’s not time to stop. We need to go on and do this on a regular basis.”
This is how 10 days later I created something called Souk El Tayeb. It is a farmers’ market that has taken place every Saturday morning from early June 2004 up until now. From that project, from the farmers’ market, we had other farmers’ markets and then different projects like the Tawlet, the Beit, or the capacity building programs sprouted out of this.
What is the capacity building program and how many people have gone through this program?
Well, we started the farmers’ market in 2004. The idea was for the local, small-scale farmers and producers, to bring to the market the cleanest possible, sustainably produced, or even better, organic food. We never wanted to have an organic ghetto and kick out the others. We understood that we had to have rules and regulations and criteria to follow, but at the same time, it was not like a slap on the hand of those who don’t do well. How can we help them in performing better? How can we first of all identify their needs and help them where they need it, whether it was in finances or food production or agriculture, or IT or whatever. This is how the idea of the capacity building program or how to support our own farmers and producers developed. A couple thousand people have gone through the program. It’s a social business and the profits generated are used to reinvest in old and new projects and pay the administrative costs.
When we saw that it was quite interesting and needed for our own farmers and producers, we thought why to keep it to our own farmers alone? Why not to take it out to other needy cases too? So we started working with other groups along with our own farmers and producers. First we started working with Palestinian refugees in camps in Lebanon. Following that, with Syrian refugees who arrived in Lebanon as aspiring domestic workers and with the other needy groups around the country.
You started at the time right around the war. Is that why the issue of refugees came up?
With the war in Syria that started in 2011, we had a lot of refugees in Lebanon and hosted around 1.5 million refugees. It’s a country of four to five million refugees, so it was like 25% more addition to the population, and so it was a major problem.
We thought about a very, very small solution, which was why can’t we support women in producing what they do every day, which is cooking for their own families and children, and creating job opportunities from what they do every day, which is cuisine.
You speak of bringing back food traditions while supporting farmers. How much has a Lebanese citizen’s life changed since 2004?
Well, I think in 2004 it was the same as everywhere else in the world. At one point, you are ashamed of your tradition, thinking that it’s not something good. Like you would rather invite people to a fancy food gathering, but you would not invite them over for a traditional dish.
I think what we brought, which was very, very important, is how to be proud of our identity and tradition, our identity through simple things, like food as ingredients or as dishes. For instance, freekeh, which is green smoked wheat, is a delicacy today, and 10 years ago it was unknown, or if known, it was not interesting or it was tacky to use it, talk about it, or to eat it. Today it’s a delicacy, and its fancy, let’s say. So it’s how to transform tradition into something interesting, that is demanded, fancy, and desired.
Do you include women in the project to enable them to support themselves financially?
Not support themselves, but mainly support their families. A man who makes money, spends it, I don’t know, there are studies for this, spends it like 80% on himself. A woman who has money, spends it 100% on others, on the family. So yes, it was helping them generate income for their families.
Are the travels by the group for paid cooking assignments?
Well, we take every job opportunity. These are jobs to generate income to make money. Sometimes you do not make money and these are jobs to learn something or to share something with others. We like traveling a lot, because through this we can expand to the maximum what we learn and what can we do and share the more of what we do with others.
Like a short while ago, I was with four of the ladies, four of the cooks. We were cooking at an event. We spent then two days in Palermo discovering the food traditions and met a wonderful chef. Now this chef is coming to cook at Tawlet. These ladies were there to share Lebanese cuisine and traditions and while they were eating at his restaurant. It’s always about exchanges.
Is the organization politically independent?
Politically? It’s not politically independent, it’s completely politically uninterested at all. As of the local politics, it’s completely independent. And we don’t care at all about what happens. It’s politically and religiously independent on both sides. We follow no one. But what we do, by following no one, is politics in itself too. It’s a different kind of politics though.
Are you still working with Slow Food?
No, not at all. That was in the early stages, very early stages. Souk El Tayeb started in 2004, and I used to work with Slow Food from 2000 until 2007 only. And after Souk El Tayeb started in 2004, we collaborated for few years and we built somewhat on the model of Souk El Tayeb, of bringing everybody together. But we stopped collaborating in 2007.
What about Synergos, the group from New York?
I was a fellow for two years with Synergos. I’m not a fellow anymore. But we are always in contact. It’s an organization or rather, it’s a group that taught me a lot.
Has your project been emulated in other parts or has the same format has been used elsewhere?
Well, we tried to create or we were an inspiration for people in Latakia, Syria before the war. We were very happy about that and supported them a lot in developing a farmers’ market. The Prince heir of Qatar also asked us develop a project for them, which however didn’t see the light of day. The work with refugees was an inspiration for many in different parts of the world specifically how to encourage refugees and support them in cooking their own cuisine.
Is it cross-generational since you bring together people of different ages, and is that in some way covering the generational gap?
Well, for one thing, as we’re making our cultural traditions sexier, let’s say, it’s bringing more young people to this, and they are getting more and more interested in this. And for another thing, we worked in schools doing education programs for a while, but we didn’t go on. It’s something that is very dear to my heart, but we couldn’t continue because it’s a very big project and we didn’t delve deep enough in it, and we should be back to work on this.
Referring to the school, is Tawlet also an educational kitchen?
Tawlet is a community kitchen. It’s the restaurant where the women cook. if you come and you volunteer, you’re learning when they are cooking. We accept volunteers and they do cooking classes too. But it’s cooking classes where you pay to come for class.
How many operations in all now?
We have two farmers’ markets on Saturday and Sunday. And very soon we’re adding three others to them, so it will be five. We have Tawlet kitchen in Beirut, Ammiq, Saida, Dekenet, Biomass, Hamra, So that’s six kitchens or six Tawlet and we have four Beits, which are bed and breakfasts. They are spread out all over the country.
Are you involved in the wine-producing sector?
Involved? We don’t produce wine actually we produce nothing. We have wine producers who come to the farmers’ market and in every in Beit and Tawlet, we do use only the wines from the region. So yes, we’re involved in this way.
What are the selection criteria for vendors or producers to join the markets?
It should be first of all a small-scale farmer or producer. If you’re big, you don’t need us. It should be quality production, the cleanest possible, better if organic, traditional produce, locally made. If you’re doing vegetables, it must be your own vegetables. It’s a producers-only market and they have the right to buy, and to sell at the market. If you’re selling vegetables, you must be planting them. If you’re selling cake, for sure you cannot plant the flour and the cocoa and the butter, but you have to produce the cake yourself. We have all the details on our website.
Are these regulations and standards strictly enforced?
Strictly as much as possible. What is strictly enforced? Have you never had speeding tickets, you know? So yes. But we try to enforce them as much. We’re really serious about it, and as much as possible. But nothing is 100%.
These days organic is very loosely defined. What is considered organic in one place may not be true for another region.
Absolutely, and this is why since the beginning we didn’t want to be an organic ghetto and do only organic, but like I say it’s as clean as possible, if it’s organic it’s better. And not just be a ghetto.
Is there a competitive atmosphere in the group in the market?
I’m going to tell you a story. If you come to the Orient, you know souks, or traditional Arab souks and Oriental souks are divided into trades. You go into one souk; they sell only fabric. The other souk sells only spices. The other souk sells only meat, and these shops are very small; they don’t have a shop front. It’s like a cube which is open in front and they only close at night.
At some point, if you want to go to the mosque to pray or to the church or you want to go somewhere, there is just a rope, and you put this rope across your entrance so people know that they don’t have access. They don’t close, and no one gets in. It’s a symbol. But if sometimes there is something that you have that your neighbor doesn’t have, your neighbor would leave his shop and come and sell in yours, or in the other shop. Because they believe it is what God, it’s your… How do you say? In Arabic we say it’s your part of chance. Each one takes his part. You cannot take what is not yours.
So no, there’s no competitiveness between these women. Because I believe that each one takes his part. There is competitiveness in a way when sometimes they are jealous of someone who’s a better cook than them or who charges more or something like this. But if you do a better kibbeh, it’s because you are better than others. That’s it. But it’s not competitiveness.
Is tourism bouncing back, and do these projects serve as an introduction to the culinary bounty?
Absolutely. You’re totally right. This is what people want. People, travelers don’t come anymore to find chains that they can find everywhere in the world. They come to have a real taste of the place, as we say.
You have a quote-unquote “celebrity status.” Does it help to promote your projects?
Yes, definitely. Like cooking at the Google camp recently. If we didn’t have this recognition, not to say celebrity status, well, they wouldn’t be asking us. For me it’s a tool. It’s a tool that you have in your hand. And whether you use it in a good or in a bad way. Tools are power, they are money, and they are recognition.
How does one become an advocate for celebrating food traditions? As you mentioned, in the early stages there is some kind of a shame associated with promoting them. How do you overcome that?
There’s a book, it’s very easy. There’s a book called “How to Become an Advocate 101.” (laughing) There’s nothing; I’m joking!
You just need to do what you have to do, be very clear, and be stubborn, I think. Because stubbornness is very, very, very important. But sometimes you can be stubborn about something bad or wrong. I always ask myself, “Is it the right thing, and is it a good thing?”
Very often you hit a wall. Very often you’re so tired. Very often you’re desperate. Very often you cry. But you just need, as I say, what you put on a horse, not to look on each side, like blinders, right. You just need to have blinders, but not blinders to go nowhere. You need to know the real path, the way, the direction. You need to be on the right direction and then put blinders, and just go on.
Looking back, is there something you would have done differently, or any lesson you learned that you can share?
Lesson learned? Every single second I tell myself, “What is the lesson learned from the mistakes, not from the good things.” The good things are good things. It’s okay. But the mistakes are more important because I look at it and I say, “Where did I go wrong, first of all, not the others, where did I go wrong? What is the lesson learned from this?” Every single time.
If the other part of your question is if I would have done something different. I never look at it this way. Never, never, ever in my life. It happened this way, that’s it. There’s no other way. It’s happened, it’s done. It’s useless to say, “It should have been.” I hate saying, “It should have been.”
Well, you can’t go back and fix it, so better to look forward anyway.
Absolutely, absolutely. And that’s just me. And the other thing I hate is making the same mistake twice. It kills me. This is why I tell you I look hard at the mistake and say, “What is the lesson learned?”
Does our society right now, not referring just to your part of the world, need more social investors like you?
I think we should all be that way. I don’t want to be considered as a specific species, because I would be the only social, or one of few social investors. Every one of us should be a social investor, because there’s no other way today. Because we have ruined so much, the society, ourselves, our health, the health of the planet, we ruined everything so much that we cannot look at the return only as an economic return anymore at all. We should look at life as an investment on all levels, not only as money.
First of all, just as social investment, at environment as investment, and then as economic. Economy cannot be the only bottom line anymore. It’s done. Societies are ruined. Humans are ruined. Environment is ruined. And all of this is because our greed and because of how much we want to extract more dollars from everything. It cannot grow, it cannot be any more like this. Each one of us should be a responsible investor. Responsible and invest first of all in humans socially. Second, in the environment. And third, in the economy.
Have these projects influenced the younger generation of Lebanese?
Not only Lebanese, everyone, everywhere. Look at people, everyone wants to do something interesting today and wants to change the world and want to do this and want to do that. Yes, definitely, definitely.
Does it also help to perpetuate your cultural identity for the future?
Yes! Expression of identity can come from simple things, like the saris that you wear or the kebabs that I can feed you or the falafel or the hummus, or from the way I dress. You respect me, for the way I eat and you share that and you respect me, rather than resorting to violence to show these different expressions.
The culture in that part of the world influences this way of thinking and for that to translate into the Western culture is not easy. How do you bridge that gap?
It’s called openness. It’s realizing that in something you are not the best. You are good in some things, and others are better than you in other things. If you are open, you can learn from others. If you’re not open, you cannot learn from others. If you just think of yourself as the Westerners that you are better than others, you cannot. You have to be humble to be able to learn from others. If not, you cannot learn.
Food is something that connects us all. It’s like our culture, whole life, everything. Just that we need to bring that back into the food world. I feel that it is important to share these stories that foster change and inspire us.
Absolutely! Geeta, you are from a part of the world that gave a man who said, “Be the change you want to see.” (Mahatma Gandhi). Whatever you’re doing: You’re writing, you don’t write for nothing. You’re cooking, you don’t cook for nothing. Whatever you’re doing, as they say in Islam, “Every act is an act of adoration.” You don’t need to go to a mosque or to a church. Your job is adoration. We just do what we have to do, in the best possible way.
In the Oriental tradition, there is something called the Gongfu which is the art of doing whatever you are doing artfully or well.
Yes. I think it’s something that gives a lot of meaning to what we do each day and to use it in a good way.
If not, each day is useless and a waste of time. Yes, every moment matters.
