Discovering My Roots Through My Belly

Off the traffic cluster highway we turned down a rough dirt road, filled with shanty square homes surrounded by fetid waters, the stench of chemical grime from tannery factories and a faintness of curry festered in the air. A short distance away and a world apart is Tangra Village, a vanishing community of immigrant Chinese on the outskirts of Kolkata. They are the Hakka Chinese, also known as the nomads of the Chinese people. In Mandarin, Hakka literally translates into “guest people,” because they are never on their own home turf.

This was my first time to India and to meet what family I have left in the meager and humble hometown my grandparents were raised. It was Chinese New Year’s Eve, the year of the dragon, and as the most important holiday in Chinese culture, the weeklong celebration is surrounded by the triple-threat of F’s- family, friends and food.

Even though I had just gotten off the plane, there was no time to waste to prepare for the celebrations. My great aunt greeted me with a hug and an apron. “I must teach you to make maa faa!” This traditional snack is a crunchy dough twist sprinkled with sesame seeds. My auntie pounded and stretched out the dough making perfect figure eight ribbons, while my uncoordinated limbs attempted to keep up.

We headed to Pei May High School, which hosts the celebratory festival for the entire village, a red sea of stalls filled with bright lanterns, prosperous dragon figurines and evidently Indian food. My nose followed the fragrant curry spices of cumin and garlic, escalating from lines of tandoor ovens.

It’s no surprise the Hakka elders haven’t divorced their traditional Chinese foods. My belly was stuffed with pure bliss to see that the Hakka’s are also open-minded to adjustment through integrating Indian and Chinese culture- a people of tradition, yet open to change. Tangra might not be the typical tourist destination but for me it’s the ultimate destination on the road to discovering my Hakka roots.