Living History

A family affair

My most vivid memories of the kitchen are of my family’s maid (she acted as both a cleaner and assistant cook for us, so this is the most appropriate title) carrying huge steaming bowls of rice. There were eleven in my family—sometimes more when you included my cousins and nieces—and so you can imagine how much rice it took to feed us all. We would all dig into the bowl as soon as it got to the table, if you held back or waited your turn, you’d end up with nothing.

As a small boy I would occasionally be called by the maid to stir the pot of rice in the kitchen, while she and my mother cut vegetables and prepared spices for the dishes. I would have to kneel on a stool in order to reach. However as it was not ‘done’ in those days for males in the family to learn cooking (it was expected that their wife would be well versed in the culinary arts), so once I was in school I was no longer allowed to help in the kitchen. Under the tutelage of my wife, who is of an English background, I did learn to cook eventually, although resisted it for some time—I believe the first meal I cooked myself was in my very late thirties, perhaps even my forties.

Meal times at home were very much a ‘family affair’, a way to catch up on what had happened during the day. It was also virtually the only time everyone was together, as my father, a pharmacist, and my elder siblings, all doctors, worked long hours. As I and many of my other siblings have since migrated to other countries, and both my parents have long since died, I treasure my memories of those happy times.

Jean Luc, Adelaide, South Australia

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