For a couple of months now, I’ve had the good fortune to meet with and share the cooking prepared by the women at My Sisters' Kitchen.  This is an initiative of Darwin Community Arts and it happens every Monday afternoon in the Chambers Crescent Theatre at Malak.   Brenda Logan, its affable and enthusiastic coordinator,  skilfully organizes the  contributions of women from countries like Bhutan, Burma, The Congo and The Sudan, all of whom have come to settle in Darwin.  I’ve become absolutely charmed by their resourcefulness and warmth.  Bhakti, from Bhutan, the youngest of the group, strikes me as a born leader, the way she hurries about organizing things and people,  while Kushila, the matriach, amuses me constantly with her playful body language, and attempts to remove the freckles on my arm by scratching at them.

Today I’m sharing a recipe. Savoury vegetables in spices and yoghurt, with rice, an adaptation of an Indian favourite. I feel a little embarrassed I’ve chosen a recipe from a region closer to the culture of these women than my own. I begin to peel back the layers of the onion but am quickly brought into line.  ‘This is a communal effort; everyone has a go’ reminds Brenda.  I demonstrate how the vegetables are to be chopped. The language barrier is no burden here – preparing food is the glue that binds us.  While the women happily and meticulously go about dicing the vegetables, I begin to write down the ingredients on the whiteboard  ‘Garlic’ I articulate slowly, pointing to it on the table.  Garlic, the women repeat, with much chatter and laughter.   Onion, potato, peas, carrot.  After each addition, I stop, point it out, and ask the women to repeat the word after me.  In turn, I ask for the word in their language.  Often as not, my clumsy attempt to repeat it brings on more laughter.  The women write down the translation in their native language.  Before long, the whiteboard is awash with a colourful hieroglyphic script.  

With the ingredients now bubbling away on the portable stove top, Brenda gathers us all together and we play theatre games. More laughter.  Every now and then one of the women breaks off from the group and takes to the pot with a wooden spoon. A discussion takes place between the women after every stir and I try to read their body language.  Are they pleased or displeased with my choice of dish? One of the women scurries over to the plastic box containing the condiments, opens several lids, sniffs, tastes, and eventually finds what she’s been looking for.  Salt!

When the dish is ready, it is customary to invite the workers and visitors at Darwin Community Arts to share in the food.  We sit around the theatre space, on the floor, on chairs, leaning up against the kitchen bench and tuck in.  It’s very informal and beautifully orchestrated. 

The connections I’ve forged here and stories shared make this experience of community something I will long remember.  Would I be as resilient, willing and open-hearted as these women in a foreign country?