Iskashitaa Cooking Presents: Sweet Treats (Candy Making Class)

Purchase Tickets NOW ($20 per household)!

https://www.eventbrite.com/.../cooking-with-iskashitaa...

With the goal of introducing recipes to the Tucson community from UN refugees who’ve resettled into our community, Iskashitaa Refugee Network has held food preservation classes and cultural luncheons for nearly 18 years. Participants and refugees would gather together to make wonderful delights including syrups, vinegars, marinades and marmalades. The community would come together to enjoy wonderful dishes from Chad, Sudan, Bhutan and Afghanistan. These events allowed communities to share culture - all while using local produce and herbs harvested by Iskashitaa!

Our newest cooking class lead by Chef Roy DeBis-Loomis titled “Iskashitaa Cooking Presents: Sweet Treats” will take place on January 21, 2021 at 11 AM (MST) via Zoom.

Iskashitaa Chef Roy’s culinary class will bring Homemade Caramel, Buttercreams, English Butter Toffee, Peanut Butter Cups, and Peanut Brittle to your kitchen!

"SOS: Save Our Sevilles" by Reia Li, Iskashitaa Journalism Intern

Many unsuspecting visitors to Tucson are delighted by the orange trees lining our city streets in abundance. Kate Crooks, Volunteer Manager at Iskashitaa Refugee Network, vividly remembers seeing them on her first day here: “I moved [to Tucson from Ohio], and the first free day I had, I went to walk around the University of Arizona campus. I was just amazed at the different landscape: palm trees, olive trees. And then I saw...an orange tree!” 

Over the phone, Kate laughs. “So I got an orange off the tree, [thinking] ‘Wow, this is the best place ever.’ I was in full honeymoon phase.” 

“And then I eat the orange, and I’m like “Oh. Oh, this is not ripe at all! This is so sour and bitter.’” Somewhat sheepishly, Kate tells me that she threw the fruit away, half-eaten. It was only after she began working at Iskashitaa that she realized: “The orange...was, in fact, ripe. It was just a Seville Orange.” 

Seville oranges are cut and ready for juicing and processing into the many possible delicacies little know to Tucsonans (cookies, sorbet, pound cake, tabouli, or stuffed grape leaves). Photo Credit: Alaa Alani.

When he first arrived from Iraq, Alaa Alani was also immediately struck by the abundant orange trees in Tucson. Unlike Kate, he knew exactly what they were: naranj, the Arabic word for sour orange. In his words (edited for clarity): “In the first month I come to the USA, I am very happy to see big tree for sour oranges (naranj) near my house. I knock on the door. Old woman open...I [ask] her can I take some [oranges] from the tree. She tell me: ‘You can take it all, but you must know: this is poison.’” 

“Poison orange.” Here in Southern Arizona, the Seville orange, a.k.a sour, ornamental, and fake orange, has taken on that unfortunate nickname. For a long time, sour oranges were the only type of orange the world knew, having originated in southeastern Asia independently from the sweet orange. Calling the fruit naranj, derived from a Sanskrit word, nāraṅga, Arabian merchants introduced the sour orange to Europe and the Mediterranean. (An intriguing quirk: in Arabic, the word for sweet orange is burtuqāl, a transliteration of the word “Portugal,” in recognition of the Portugese traders who brought the sweet orange to Europe in the late 15th century). The first record of sour oranges in the Americas dates to 1493, when Christopher Columbus reportedly planted orange seeds on the island of Hispaniola. 

Sour orange trees thrived in the moist, tropical climate of the Caribbean. In North America, Spaniards planted sour orange groves to commercially export the fruit to England. Eventually, with the introduction of the sweet orange, hardy sour orange rootstock became the widespread base for sweet orange trees, a practice that continues to this day for sweet oranges and many other tree crops. Here in Southwest Arizona, sour orange trees are a legacy of our citrus-producing past, as well as a widespread aesthetic decision. 

“Every year I make juice for one year and put it in the freezer to be used every day“ - Alaa Alani

“I didn’t realize until I started volunteering at Iskashitaa that people were calling them ‘poison oranges,’ and all that,” explained Dr. Janet Griffitts, a research archeologist and Seville-enthusiast. Many years ago, when she came to the University of Arizona, Dr. Griffitts tried one of the sour oranges littering the UA’s campus, and it awoke “a delicious flavor memory from way, way back to when I was a scrawny, perpetually hungry nine-year-old.” She recalled tasting the unique sour tang on a family trip to Turkey when she was a child. Since rediscovering that flavor, Dr. Griffitts has been compiling a recipe book featuring Seville oranges, so she can “reintroduce people” to the fruit. Because, according to her, “at the beginning of the century [in the U.S], there are plenty of recipes [that use Seville oranges.] Up to the 1930’s or so. But then...we stopped using them.” 

Why did we stop using sour oranges? And how can we reintroduce ourselves to the fruit littering our city streets? For the past decade, much of Iskashitaa’s work has been centered on answering those two questions. Through monthly educational edible tree tours at the Tucson Botanical Garden or University of Arizona campus, weekly harvests teaching hundreds of volunteers about the local food system, or selling artisanal Justice Jams (yes, they’re as cool as they sound) online, Iskashitaa’s staff, long-time volunteers, and refugee chefs are working to educate all who walk through its doors on the delights of the Seville. It wasn’t always this way, however. Just like everybody else, Iskashitaa’s staff needed to be educated on the joys of a juicy sour orange.

Dr. Barbara Eiswerth, Executive Director of Iskashitaa, remembers how “people would call and say, ‘We have Seville oranges. Are you interested?’” Barbara would sigh and respond “as soon as we get all of the tangerines, all of the Meyer lemons, and all of the navel oranges harvested, we’ll think about Seville oranges.”

The visible difference between a sour orange (left) and a smooth skinned sweet orange (right). Stress brought on by drought causes irregular cell division in the sour orange, leading to its characteristic bumpiness.

Only when Iskashitaa began to systematically map the fruit trees in certain neighborhoods did its volunteers take a closer look at the Seville. In Barbara’s words, “We were working with the Ha:sañ Native American School...to harvest Seville orange.” Using the kitchen at the school, volunteers tested out ways to make the sour orange less, well, sour: “We tried everything! We added ginger ale, we added soda water, we added white sugar, brown sugar—we did everything we could to make Seville orange-ade palatable. And it was a struggle!” After all that experimenting, Barbara and her team weren’t left with anything anyone would willingly drink in abundance. Later, refusing to let all the sour oranges go to waste, Barbara turned to Iskashitaa’s refugee-volunteers, hoping they would have some ideas for how to use Seville oranges. 

Faeza, one of Iskashitaa’s experts on cultural food preservation, remembers things a little differently. She grew up using the juice of what she called Iraq’s “famous lemon” to season food. When she came to the United States, missing that taste of home, she started searching for naranj. She couldn’t find it in the grocery store, but all of a sudden, she noticed “the trees, a lot of them.” But when she excitedly shared this with her family, Feaza remembers her daughter warning her: “‘Mama, it’s dangerous. Nobody can touch the tree.’ I say, ‘Why?’ She said, ‘Mama, police can take you! This is not Iraq.’ I say, “I want one.’ She say, ‘No, Mom, don’t touch it, please.’”

Thus, for several years after arriving from Iraq, Faeza recalls how “I can’t find [naranj] anywhere, and I can’t get [any]. After that, when I work with Iskashitaa, one day, we go to harvest for another fruit. We see one tree and I say, ‘Barbara, this is naranj! What are we going to do with this?’ She says, ‘[This is] poison orange!’ ‘What?!’ I say. She say, ‘Yes, Americans say this is poison orange or sour orange.’ I say, ‘No Barbara, this is so good.’ She say, ‘Are you sure?’I say ‘Yes.’ And after that we tried many things...jam,  marmalade, juice or naranj-ade,” as well as candied rind and many savory dishes from Iraq.

Iskashitaa is now trying to find a way to stop the landfill dumping of tons and tons of Sevilles so we can share with the more than 47,331 Iraqi refugees resettled in the USA. Want to help contact the Barbara, the IRN Director at eiswerth@iskashitaa.org.

Faeza and Barbara would go on to host many panel discussions on local foods and food waste and demonstrations about how to use Seville orange juice in jams, hummus, and, Faeza’s personal favorite, tabouleh, a fresh salad of parsley, tomatoes, and mint, seasoned with olive oil and sour orange juice. In Barbara’s words: Sometimes, “it takes a refugee.” 

As refugee-volunteers like Faeza have shown us, sour oranges have a long and rich tradition around the world. Despite this, they continue to be ignored, misunderstood, or just plain reviled here. My own experience with sour oranges illuminates this dynamic.

A few years ago, on my daily drive to school, I’d pass by a certain apartment complex. Even from the road, I could tell that the place was lined with dozens of orange trees. Being the enthusiastic Iskashitaa volunteer that I am, I found the email of the property manager of the complex and reached out to him, offering to get together a group of volunteers to pick all the citrus. 

Towns all over Southern Arizona once lined their streets with Seville orange trees for their delightful orange blossom scent in the spring and their picturesque orange fruit that decorated the tree for months on end. Unfortunately, the townspeople have forgotten how to use these versatile fruit and tons are harvested and trucked to the landfills each year.

Although friendly in his initial response, he told me that the oranges were sour, and, consequently, it didn’t make sense for us to pick them. I replied with examples of how sour oranges are used in Middle Eastern cuisine, but he never responded. For the next month, every day when I drove to school, I watched a sad and slow change overcome the beautiful grove as the oranges dropped to the ground, only to lie rotting in great piles. I couldn’t help but ask myself: “What if I had gotten the chance to explain? To tell him about Alaa, a longtime Iskashitaa volunteer and Iraq native, who drinks a cup of sour orange juice every single day? Would he still think the oranges were useless?” But most of all, I asked myself: “How can we get people to understand, so that this painful waste doesn’t happen any more?”

This waste is happening on a massive scale, all over Arizona. But recently, Iskashitaa Refugee Network has been given a unique chance to combat it.

One small city just outside of Phoenix is known for its “magnificent palm and orange trees,” which date from early developers' plan to turn the land into citrus groves. This plan did not work out, and the area eventually became a cotton farm. And yet, the city’s original legacy lives on in the hundreds of orange trees planted around the city. Guess which type of orange they are? 

The secret ingredient of Tabouli at Tucson’s Sinbad’s restaurant is sour orange juice, not lemon, according to Sinbad’s Iraqi American owner.

According to Dr. Barbara Eiswerth, every year, the city pays for the removal of 150,000 pounds of sour oranges from its streets. These massive truckloads of oranges are taken straight to the landfill. Recently, the city reached out to Iskashitaa, offering to donate the fruit. 

The efforts of dozens of volunteers and staff have led Iskashitaa to this moment, as we prepare to launch a massive campaign to Save Our Sevilles. Iskashitaa is sending out a call for volunteers and idea-makers to help process 75 tons of sour oranges. With your donations, Iskashitaa can make and sell orange marmalade and deliver the citrus to refugee communities across the nation. 

The next time you go outside, look at a blooming sour orange tree, resplendent with its dark green leaves, and see not a waste, but a valuable and tasty citrus—this is the only way that, collectively, we can Save Our Sevilles.

This publication made possible by the Arizona Humanities and the National Endowment for the Humanities.

“See the Bees” written by Reia Li, Iskashitaa Journalism Intern

At 2 p.m. on a Friday afternoon, a white truck rolled up to Iskashitaa’s headquarters carrying twenty-one gallons of the finest, purest mesquite flower honey in Tucson. 

Mona Chambers and Emily Watkins DeJong are honeybee researchers and Mona’s company, “See the Bees,” is an educational outreach program which facilitated this honey donation. Both women are crazy about bees: they keep a bee smoker (a device to calm excited bees) in their truck at all times and Mona’s arms are covered with intricate tattoos of her favorite buzzing bug. As we unloaded boxes filled with the pale yellow honey in glass mason jars, Mona enthusiastically informed me: “It’s raw—which means it’s never been heated—organic, local, no sugar added, and made from bees pollinating mesquite flowers. All this means that it’s less liquid than honey you see at the store because it retains a crystalline structure. I want everyone to know that solid honey is normal!” She laughed. 

Mona Chambers and Emily Watkins DeJong showing off the work of the bees as well as their work in educating through outreach.

After the truck had been unloaded and the boxes of honey stacked, I looked at Valerie, Iskashitaa’s program manager, and asked, “What in the world is Iskashitaa going to do with all this honey?”

To understand Valerie’s answer to this question, it helps to take a whirl back through the history of honey. 

Before there were humans, there was honey. In fact, a researcher named Alyssa Crittenen hypothesizes that honey was a major contributor to the development of the large, energy-hungry brains of early humans. In addition to being easy to eat, wild honey “contains traces of bee larvae, adding fat, protein, vitamins and minerals,” reports Smithsonian Magazine. This makes it an especially nutritious source, not only of glucose for energy, but also of key nutrients for survival.

Historically, honey is well-documented. An ancient Egyptian poem from 3,000 years ago describes the adventure of an Egyptian royal who flees to Canaan, described as “great in its honey.” The Bible, Buddhist texts, and the Vedas, the founding scripture of Hinduism, are just a few examples of ancient documents that mention honey.

Furthermore, honey pops up in cultures across the globe. In Tanzania, the Hadza are one of the few remaining hunting and gathering societies. In a study from the Journal of Human Evolution, researchers found that “honey accounts for a substantial proportion of the...Hadza diet.” The piece explains how the Hadza acquire “seven different types of honey” through a variety of ways, including climbing baobab trees and relying on honey-hunting birds to lead them to beehives.

In Uganda, honey is widely available, according to Richard Otim, an Iskashitaa regular and Ugandan native. In an email, he explained that “honey has replaced sugar in many homes, [since] most people can’t afford sugar.” He described how people use the common “brown honey:” in tea, as “jam in the bread,” or “to prevent [children] from getting cough that’s (sic) what our old people tell us.” 

Honey is all over the world, but it is important to recognize that its quality and accessibility vary greatly. As Mona Chambers put it: “There are bees all over the world and people across the globe use honey in different ways. But it has been, and still is, a luxury item. Whether you have honey or not, and whether you can afford it...is a different matter.” 

In the US, for example, a shocking seventy-five percent of the honey sold in grocery stores cannot be classified as honey, according to Food Safety News. Extensive testing revealed that an overwhelming majority of products labeled “honey” had been heated and forced through tiny filters, a process that removes pollen and makes it impossible to determine the source of the honey, or even if it’s honey at all. This “pasteurized honey” is sold at a much lower cost and lacks the anti-inflammatory, antioxidant-rich properties of raw, unfiltered honey.

The Chambers’ honey is, therefore, a rare treat: pure honey, with a known origin—the fragrant yellow mesquite flowers that bloom across the desert in the spring.

So what will Iskashitaa be doing with the twenty-one gallons of honey? 

Deliberately reaching out to refugee families in Iskashitaa’s network of harvesters, Valerie gave out the first of many jars several days after receiving the donation. When she gave it to Richard, from Uganda, she captured his reaction on film, since he’d never before eaten white, raw honey. They’re both laughing with joy as he opens the jar. Carefully, he dips a spoon in and places it in his mouth. For an instant, he pauses, eyes closed, savoring the taste of the sweet melting sugar.

Then, his mouth breaks into an enormous smile, and he exclaims, with a twinkle in his eye: “Mmmm...tastes like bees!” 

Sources:

Hathaway, Bill. “Hadza Foragers Say Hungry Honeyguides Lead Them to More Honey.” YaleNews, 11 Sept. 2014, news.yale.edu/2014/09/11/hadza-foragers-say-hungry-honeyguides-lead-them-more-honey

“How Did Honey Evolve in Our Diet?” How Did Honey Evolve in Our Diet? - DailyHistory.org, dailyhistory.org/How_Did_Honey_Evolve_in_our_Diet%3F

Marlowe, Frank W., et al. “Honey, Hadza, Hunter-Gatherers, and Human Evolution.” Journal of Human Evolution, Academic Press, 17 Apr. 2014, www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0047248414000815

Schneider, Andrew. “Tests Show Most Store Honey Isn't Honey.” Food Safety News, 7 Nov. 2011, www.foodsafetynews.com/2011/11/tests-show-most-store-honey-isnt-honey/

“The Tale of Sinuhe.” Metmuseum.org, www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/591471.

Wayman, Erin. “Humans, the Honey Hunters.” Smithsonian.com, Smithsonian Institution, 19 Dec. 2011, www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/humans-the-honey-hunters-9760262/

This publication made possible by the Arizona Humanities and the National Endowment for the Humanities.

“Team Window Rock” by Reia Li, Iskashitaa Journalism Intern

In theory, the story of Iskashitaa’s delivery of food to the Navajo Nation can be summed up in one sentence: We did it. Simply stated, the delivery of 2,100 pounds of fresh produce is a saga that includes a desperate drive through deserted mountain roads by an ex-Army driver, a scramble for papers to avoid being caught in a lock-down, and the combined efforts of hard-working people in Tucson, Chicago, Maine, and the Navajo Nation. 

The story of the Window Rock donation first begins with a crucial effort of teamwork. Following the outbreak of COVID-19 in the U.S., ReFED, a national nonprofit dedicated to fighting food waste, established a national COVID-19 Food Waste Solutions Fund to provide money to organizations fighting hunger and food insecurity. Forager, a small company based in Maine that operates a digital marketplace to supply businesses with fresh, local food, was a ReFED grantee. With ReFED’s support, Forager drew upon its existing platform to connect surplus produce to communities-in-need with a project called the National Gleaner Surplus Program.

The National Gleaner Surplus Program was born out of the recognition that communities hit especially hard by the COVID-19 pandemic often lack access to fresh, healthy produce. 

The Navajo Nation represents one such community. According to the BBC, in April and May, the Navajo Nation had some of the highest coronavirus infection rates in the United States, higher even than New York at the height of its caseload. Moreover, on the reservation, the COVID-19 pandemic is inextricably linked to food insecurity. 

In 1863, the U.S. military forced the Navajo to move from their ancestral lands to the Bosque Redondo Reservation in Fort Sumter, New Mexico, in what has come to be known as the “Long Walk.” At Fort Sumner, “[p]oor soil conditions and hunting restrictions prevented Navajos from consuming traditional foods,” such as corn, squash, melons, and beans, reported the U.S. Department of Energy. In response, the U.S. government began distributing rations of flour, lard, salt, and sugar.  Thus began a centuries-long history of governmental, economic, and cultural factors gradually and insidiously changing the Navajo diet to one high in salt, fat, and sugar.

Today, the U.S. Department of Agriculture classifies the Navajo Nation as a food desert, where fresh, healthy food is difficult to find. With over 300,000 people and only 13 grocery stores, there is 1 grocery store for every 23,000 people. 

Nate Yazzi, who works at the Window Rock Wellness Center, in the capital of the Navajo Nation, points out that the pandemic has further restricted access to fresh food. Many who live in Window Rock normally drive 30 minutes to Gallup, New Mexico for their groceries. Under strict weekend lockdowns and weekday curfews, that is no longer an option. 

With so few places to buy groceries, Navajo President Jonathan Nez explained, in an interview with CNN, that “when we run out of food or supplies we have to go to the stores and there is a lot of people there and I believe...the [COVID-19] spread is happening there as well as at home." Furthermore, NPR writes that decades of food insecurity mean that Navajo have disproportionately high rates of underlying conditions, such as diabetes or obesity, which make the coronavirus more lethal. 

COVID-19 and food insecurity engage in a vicious cycle: the pandemic has dramatically narrowed the options for fresh food, and, as a result, Navajo are forced to go to the few crowded grocery or convenience stores within reach, which increases their likelihood of contracting the virus. To further complicate matters, around 40 percent of Navajos “have to haul their water and use outhouses,” as reported by NPR. Sanitary conditions are hard to maintain when many Navajos don’t have access to running water.

Here is where the National Gleaner Surplus Program re-enters our story. In recognition of the critical needs of the Navajo Nation, Forager wanted to work with the COVID-19 Relief Effort on the Navajo Nation, headquartered in Window Rock, AZ, to supply the reservation with low-wash, hearty produce that would be familiar to most Navajo families.

Erica Merritt, the head of the National Gleaner Surplus Program, engaged in initial planning to send a dual donation of food to Window Rock. The dual donation included 2,100 pounds of squash, citrus, and other gleaned or donated produce from Iskashitaa Refugee Network, as well as a truckload of 20,000 pounds of kale from Salinas, California. 

However, after consulting with her partners in Window Rock, Erica realized that the Navajo COVID-19 Relief Effort couldn’t distribute the kale quickly enough before it went rotten. Furthermore, kale is a nontraditional food that demands high volumes of water for washing. For all these reasons, it was impossible to follow through with the delivery. Thus, Erica was faced with a major problem. How could she get Iskashitaa’s more suitable donation up to Window Rock without the large refrigerated truck from Salinas? 

AmeriCorps Members help Iskashitaa staff load our somewhat ancient Harvesting Van.

That’s when Iskashitaa proved its mettle. Dr. Barbara Eiswerth, Executive Director of Iskashitaa Refugee Network, contacted Erica and said that she’d figure out a way to get the produce to Window Rock, a six-hour drive from Tucson. When Erica asked her how, Barbara said simply, “We’re just going to do it.” 

On Friday, June 19, staff and AmeriCorps volunteers packed Iskashitaa’s signature white harvesting van full of 2,100 pounds of honeydew, lemons, grapefruits, oranges, potatoes, and, most importantly, a rainbow of squash. These hardy fruits and vegetables were donated by partnering farms and harvested by refugees and other volunteers from across Southern Arizona. “Believed to be the oldest cultivated food in America,” squash (including flowers, seed, and flesh) has been eaten raw, dried, baked, and boiled by the Navajo for centuries, writes the American Indian Health and Diet Project. The overflowing produce in the white van was useful and familiar to the Navajos, unlike the unfortunate bundle of kale.

Jim Feeney, Redistribution Lead at Iskashitaa, volunteered to drive the van up to Window Rock. However, he couldn’t leave Tucson before getting the go-ahead from Erica. This plan had been hatched so quickly that she hadn’t had time to confirm with her contact on the Nation. As of that morning, there was no plan for what would happen to the food once it reached Window Rock.

Valerie Seeton, Program Manager at Iskashitaa adjusts the fragile fruit for final shipping.

Erica, two hours ahead in Chicago, repeatedly called her contact in Window Rock, trying to reach her so that Jim could begin his drive and arrive before dark. No response. She watched the hours tick by without a word. Later, she found out her contact had been in a meeting all day.

In the early afternoon, Erica called Barbara in a panic. Barbara, trusting in Erica and her ability to secure accommodations for the produce, told Erica that she’d sent Jim off to begin his journey to Window Rock.

Newly invigorated, Erica started calling anyone she could who worked at Window Rock’s Navajo Health Command Center. Eventually, she reached a woman named Eloise Meego, who listened to her and sprang into action.  Eloise told her that the produce could be received at the Window Rock Wellness Center, which closed at 5 p.m. Erica knew Jim wouldn’t make it by 5. So Eloise called Nate at the Wellness Center, who agreed to stay late to receive the delivery. Eloise informed Erica that Jim needed to arrive by 8 p.m., because of the weekend lock-down. Erica replied that he should be there by then.

Meanwhile, Jim was having a rough drive. There are several ways to get to Window Rock, and he’d chosen to take the one cutting through the Tonto National Forest, thinking it’d be faster than the city roads. 

Jim chuckled as he recalled the drive. “Heavy van, fully loaded,” he said. “I did a couple tours in Iraq as an Army driver. So I know what it’s like to drive in hot conditions, tough conditions.” But this, he said, “was a white-knuckle drive.” Jim’s attention was fully occupied as the van sling-shotted around the dramatic curves of the Superstition Mountains on a narrow, desolate road.

As the clock inched closer to 8 pm, Jim called and said he was still a ways from Window Rock. Erica started getting nervous. “Several hours after Jim had left, I got a text from my initial contact on the reservation,” Erica told me. “She said ‘He won’t get there in time. Turn back.’”

She called Nate to consult with him about what to do. He lives 40 minutes away, and if caught violating curfew, he could face up to a $1,000 dollar fine or 30 days in jail. The Navajo government has been very strict about enforcing the order, and has already issued 250 citations for violating curfew, as reported by the Arizona Republic. 

To her immense relief, Nate told her that, in the hours since they’d last talked, Eloise had taken it upon herself to secure Essential Persons Papers for him, which would allow him to stay out past curfew. She didn’t think he’d need them, but wanted him to have them, just in case Jim came later than anticipated. Thanks to Eloise’s foresight, Erica could relax for the first time that day.

Finally, Jim reached Window Rock. The sun had set, and in the looming darkness, Jim waited alone in front of the designated meeting spot: the Window Rock Post Office. He felt his heart sink as he realized that its doors were locked and its windows shuttered. Not a soul was in sight.

Thinking quickly, he texted Erica, in Chicago, who gave him Nate’s phone number. At this point, Nate had been waiting at the Wellness Center for over three hours.

When Nate’s warm voice reached Jim through the phone as he stood in the lonely post office parking lot, Jim breathed a sigh of relief. Nate directed Jim to go to the Wellness Center, a few miles away on the Navajo Nation Fairgrounds. 

Nate recounted their meeting: “There’s a guard who locks up the gates to the fairground every night, and he was getting ready to close them” when Jim drove up. Nate laughed, “Jim came just in time.” 

The two men unloaded the van and put all the produce in a cool room. By 8:40 pm, they were done. Jim hopped back into Iskashitaa’s van, now considerably lighter, ready to drive through the night back to Tucson, following a route, much to his relief, along a smooth highway.

“We are just thankful for all the donations we’ve received,” Nate said, about the experience. “The Navajo people are very grateful.” 

In Jim’s words: “This was a mission that we accomplished by the seat of our collective pants.” As Erica put it: the delivery was “coordination mixed with miscommunication, in the best possible way.”

Over the next week, staff at the Wellness Center would fill bags of food with Iskashitaa Refugee Network produce designed to last 10-12 days, and then hand them out to residents of Window Rock. 

To make this donation happen, ReFED provided a generous grant to Forager, who then created a program to link communities in food deserts to nonprofits like Iskashitaa Refugee Network that could provide surplus produce. Workers at the Window Rock Health Command Center helped facilitate the donation by giving their time and, in the case of Nate, taking a personal risk, to receive the produce and store it. This whole process exemplified the meaning of iskashitaa: the Somali-Bantu translation of “working cooperatively together.” Now Iskashitaa Refugee Network, as well as its partners Forager and the National Gleaner Surplus Program, have the experience and the contacts to collaborate on future projects with the Navajo Nation.

Two thousand one hundred pounds of produce is a hefty amount. But it’s the collective time, effort, and care, by people in Maine, New York, California, Arizona, and the Navajo Nation, that was the real gift. 

Sources:

Barclay, Eliza. “Navajos Fight Their Food Desert With Junk Food And Soda Taxes.” NPR, NPR, 1 Apr. 2015, www.npr.org/sections/thesalt/2015/04/01/396607690/navajos-fight-their-food-desert-with-junk-food-and-soda-taxes.

Cheetham, Joshua. “Navajo Nation: The People Battling America's Worst Coronavirus Outbreak.” BBC News, BBC, 16 June 2020, www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-52941984.

Curtis, Chelsea. “Navajo Nation Orders Another 57-Hour Weekend Curfew; Has Issued 250+ Curfew Citations.” The Arizona Republic, Arizona Republic, 29 Apr. 2020, www.azcentral.com/story/news/local/arizona-health/2020/04/28/navajo-nation-orders-another-57-hour-weekend-curfew-covid-19-coronavirus/3045352001/.

“Foods Indigenous to the Western Hemisphere.” American Indian Health - Health, www.aihd.ku.edu/foods/squash.html.

“Go to the Atlas.” USDA ERS - Go to the Atlas, www.ers.usda.gov/data-products/food-access-research-atlas/go-to-the-atlas.aspx.

Gould, Christian, et al. “[PDF] Addressing Food Insecurity on the Navajo Reservation Through Sustainable Greenhouses: Semantic Scholar.” Undefined, 1 Jan. 1970, www.semanticscholar.org/paper/Addressing-Food-Insecurity-on-the-Navajo-Through-Gould-Martino/d493a7675eeb977fce7a30fe91fdfef1d1be071d.

Morales, Laurel. “For Many Navajos, Getting Hooked Up To The Power Grid Can Be Life-Changing.” NPR, NPR, 29 May 2019, www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2019/05/29/726615238/for-many-navajos-getting-hooked-up-to-the-power-grid-can-be-life-changing.

Silverman, Hollie, et al. “Navajo Nation Surpasses New York State for the Highest Covid-19 Infection Rate in the US.” CNN, Cable News Network, 18 May 2020, www.cnn.com/2020/05/18/us/navajo-nation-infection-rate-trnd/index.html.

“The Long Walk: The Navajo Treaties.” Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian, americanindian.si.edu/nk360/navajo/long-walk/long-walk.cshtml.

This publication made possible by the Arizona Humanities and the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Candied Grapefruit Peel

Candied Grapefruit Peel

Whether your swimming in grapefruit (like we are) or got a great deal at the nearest farmers market, a grapefruit can be enjoyable from seed to peel.

Ingredients:

Peel of 3 grapefruit

Water (used 3 different times)

3.5 cups of sugar.

Cut peel of the fruit into 4 sections and carefully remove from fruit. Scrape white membrane from peel with citrus spoon, or a regular spoon. Peel will appear porous. Cut peel lengthwise in 1/4 in strips. Heat peel in 8 cups of water to boiling in a 3quart saucepan; reduce heat & simmer uncovered for 30 minutes. Drain. Repeat simmering process with fresh water. Heat 1 cup water and 2 cups sugar to boiling in 2 quart saucepan, stirring constantly until sugar is dissolved. Add peels. Simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally for 45 minutes. Drain in strainer. Roll peel in 1.5 cups sugar. Spread on waxed paper to dry.

**if using grapefruit peel, repeat simmering process 3 times.**

Grapefruit Gazpacho by Chef John Luzader

Harvesting Hope... Empowering Dreams

“Then Iskashitaa came, and I thought, Finally, the one I have imagined will come, has come. Then I met volunteers Susan and Balamani (many other volunteers that help my family not just me), and things kept getting better. It made me want to volunteer. When I won a scholarship I had the opportunity to give a part of the money to a nonprofit- I gave it to Iskashitaa”

— Hari Nepal, Bhutan

Ingredients

• 2 gleaned grapefruit, sectioned and cut into small bite size
• 2 local oranges, sectioned and cut into small bite size
• 1/2 cup green bell pepper, chopped
• 1/2 cup cucumber, peeled and chopped
• 1 tbsp purple onion, chipped
• 1 tbsp lime juice using Iskashitaa's Calamondin Limes
• 1 tsp tabasco sauce (optional) or 1/4 Red Chili Flake instead of Tabasco
• 1 cloves garlic, minced fine
• 1 cup tomato juice (fresh if possible)
• 1./4 cup vegetable broth
• 1 tbsp fresh cilantro, chopped
• 1 tbsp purple onion, chopped
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1 & 1/2 cup tomato, chopped
• 1/4 cup tomatillo, chopped

Instructions

• use Iskashitaa Fresh Locally harvested ingredients whenever and wherever possible.
• Combine all ingredients and refigerate overnight in a non-corrosive container.
• Garnish at service with Fresh diced Avocado, Diced Red Onion, and a fresh sprig of Cilantro with whole Calamondins on the Table. Serves 8.

Learn more at www.Iskashitaa.org or call us at 520.440.0100

Tangerine Time

I stayed in Tucson for

Grapefruit, Orange, Lemon, Lime

Kumquat, Calamandin, Pomelo

Yes

But 

it’s the Tangerine that tickles me

whispers from dreams

calls across town

“Your tree’s ready, waits you.”

I am a sunflower turning 

to perfect seedy orbs that

send me up ladders, 

climbing across walls

gingerly stepping,  dense branches.

They’re all around me, 

forest of leaves.

I am high above the ground,

in the middle of the tree

peeking at blue, 

precariously balanced

tangerine heavy 

picking bag round neck

Reaching for one I cradle it in my hand

feel it

then cut the stem,  

carefully, 

with one leaf

I  pick them 

It’s all I want to do

cart laden bags boxes home

fill bowls

sort by quality

pass them among friends

eat them everywhere with everyone

in tangerine season

by Deb Jacobson

We at Iskashitaa would like to send a special thank you to Deb Jacobson and the Jewish Community for all their support. We appreciate all the help they give us. We will you all the best.