All the talk about fried bread made me remember my time that I lived in Vanuatu. No, this is not a country in Africa like most people think: It's a pacific chain of islands here. Anyway, they have a very similar "bred kastom," or "bread custom." In Sherman Alexie's Smoke Signals, the reservation had one particular woman who was infamous for her friend bread; everyone knew she had the best bread out of anyone. Her recipe was passed down from her grandmother, who got it from her grandmother, who got it from her grandmother... it was the same in my village! My neighbor, Nongo, would make a batch of fried bread almost every morning. In fact, here's a picture of her cooking it over the fire: (she's on the right)
Everyone knew that Nongo had the best bread (all ants aside) in the entire village and at every gathering she would bring some. I never asked her where she got the recipe, but I could almost put money on saying it was from her mother. The reason I bring all this up is because I find it beautiful, just like the fried bread tradition of the American Indians that Alexie knew. It's a small part of both cultures, but both peoples celebrate it with zeal... attributing to the mere bread an intricate role in their daily life. I also like to think of how rich both cultures are, going back further than I can even comprehend. Both bodies of people have a history that incorporates more than song, or stories, but the earthly elements of life such as food. It's beautiful. It's something that all cultures, no matter what continent or chain of islands they're on, have in common. All have to eat, it's just how and what the people choose to eat that adds flavor to their identity. Interestingly enough, fried bread can be said to have the same affect on the Spokane as well as the people of Eratap, Vanuatu.
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