There she stands amid a swirl of dancing villagers, beating a drum; she’s wearing racy red lipstick, scruffy sneakers and an unexpectedly authoritative swagger.
The entire village weaves round her, throwing flowers in the air. Solemn little school children in prim grey uniforms, socks briskly pulled up to their knees. Village women, pivoting energetically, as they take turns singing verses of a rollicking welcome song. Men in shabby-genteel blazers, standing stiffly in the background, politely waving leafy branches, their faces wreathed in toothy smiles.
Pryda village welcomes us with flutes, a gaudy, flower-decked satin banner and unexpectedly warm hugs. Set in the West Khasi hills of Meghalaya, this village is home to about 45 families. It’s accessible only via a picturesque, but challenging, one-hour trek from the main road, through steep dirt tracks, snaking streams and rough steps hewn into the rock. We find our way there by following the sound of Pryda’s drummer woman’s beats, which echo from a distance through the quiet hills.
We also have a guide: village matriarch Spermon Kharnaior. She’s not absolutely sure how old she is; a spirited discussion later at the village school house, over spicy pork curry, fragrant sautéed mustard leaves and cups of sweet red tea, reaches a consensus when the group settles on the age of 75. To be honest, she looks older, with her frail frame, deep wrinkles and crimson mouth, stained by years of chewing betel nut. Till she begins to lithely scamper up the hills, telling stories in rapid Khasi as she leads the way. During the last, especially steep stretch, she extends a leathery hand and grabs my wrist, then impatiently hauls me up the path right into the centre of the celebration, which she joins with gusto, raising her hands and snapping her fingers.
I was at Pryda because it was one of the host villages of Slow Food’s Indigenous Terra Madre, which was held in Shillong last November. An event that was as unique as it was earnest, it brought together influential indigenous people from across the world. For five days, over 600 delegates representing 140 tribes from over 58 countries joined forces to discuss the way ahead. The consensus? The tribes, who have learnt to co-exist comfortably with their land, while holding on to tradition, have answers for us all, especially when it comes to food. In a world that is giddy with conflicting dietary and health advice, tribes from villages like Pryda are an invaluable resource, because they haven’t changed the way they essentially live — and eat — in generations. And more often than not, they’re getting it all right. We are welcomed into the village with a tray of boiled yam and sweet potato, served with salt and deadly green chillies: a clever, nutritious and unexpectedly delicious snack. After a long lunch, set out on sturdy wooden tables at the village school house, as we get ready to leave, they hand us a final snack: sohplang, a juicy, indigenous tuber, deftly wrapped in banana leaves, to eat on the way back. It’s crisp, juicy and refreshing. A world away from the heavily processed granola bars, energy drinks and juice boxes that have become synonymous with an active lifestyle today.
According to Slow Food, which works with the villages of the North East, this part of India is home to more than 250 indigenous groups, and is considered to be one of the most bio-culturally diverse areas in the world. Meghalaya is home to one of the first species of citric fruits, a type of orange that is found only in the Garo hills.
I spend a delightful day at Shillong’s Barabazar, known as Lewduh, a heaving, pulsating warren of cobbled paths crammed with bustling stalls. There are trays filled with wriggling eri worms, famous for the silk they produce. A friendly chef from the Khasi tribe, who I bump into at the market, tells me how they’re his favourite snack, simply deep-fried with a dusting of salt. We try a handful, and they’re less intimidating than expected: crunchy outside, spongy inside, with an almost familiar smoky barbeque flavour. If you’re squirming right now, steel yourselves: insects are likely to be the food of the future, considering they are economical, easy to raise and packed with protein. Just another little tip from the tribes.
