The global language of food

Half a dozen young men from Somalia, four women from Iraqi Kurdistan, and six volunteers from Newcastle upon Tyne. Add some humour and sensitivity to the mix, and you have the perfect recipe for kindness and compassion.

Entering the kitchen on that cold Sunday in November, I saw an array of ingredients on the table in front of us. I had decided to do some volunteering for a local refugee charity, but to be honest I had no idea what to expect.  I had been assigned to the middle table and would be responsible for cooking the ‘hot’ meal. There were two slight problems, however. Firstly, I’m not renowned for my culinary ability, and secondly, I don’t speak Somali, Arabic or Kurdish. Nevertheless, it was amazing how despite our inability to communicate with language, we all communicated through preparing food. Working together to produce a meal, each of us took responsibility for a particular set of ingredients. It meant that the final result was a meal cooked for more than twenty people, many of whom were from different backgrounds and with a belief system very different to my own. I never knew these people’s names, and I don’t think they knew mine, but the global language of food allowed us all to have an unforgettable experience. 

Language unites us, and, if we’re lucky enough to speak another one, we can communicate and connect in ways that enrich both ourselves and those around us. However, sometimes it is a shared experience with those whose language we may not understand that actually transcends words and ends up forming another type of language: the language of kindness and compassion.

Lyndsey Dickinson.