When , her husband and four children from Somalia, she was pregnant with her fifth child They all kept to themselves, afraid of assimilation. But years later, an incident “awakened” her to the reality that it was time to change the trajectory of her family.
“When my four-year-old daughter asked me ‘Mummy, don’t they want me because I’m black?’ after receiving a frosty reception while visiting the local kindergarten for the first time, I became aware that we felt fearful in this community and this was not the kind of life I wanted for my children,” Issa tells SBS Food.
So Issa began to volunteer in community centres, aged-care facilities and even started a small food business , which saw her enter into Brighton homes to privately cook African home dinners.
Encouraging guests to ask questions about the meal was part of her plan.
“I used my small cooking enterprise as a social catalyst to share the wealth of my nation and teach them about my culture,” says Issa.
“In Somalia, every Friday, it was customary for my whole family, around 30 people, to come together at my grandmother’s house to eat zab – a lamb roast and rice, and sit in a circle and talk about our stories,” she says.
To channel a similar sense of belonging and community in her new home, she started (RAW) Community Garden . It's a grassroots organisation that brings women from different backgrounds together to plant seeds, share their narratives and break bread.
“The vision for this actually came from a premise my mother use to say: ‘If you can host someone in your heart, you can host them in your home,’" says Issa, whose mum ran a tuckshop out of their kitchen home in Somalia.
"I felt that my backyard could become a place of trust and exchange for multicultural women to gather, connect and get to know each other deeply.”
The vision for this actually came from a premise my mother use to say: ‘If you can host someone in your heart, you can host them in your home.’
On the last Sunday of every month, chefs and locals from various backgrounds hold cooking classes – sharing the stories behind each dish as well as where to source the traditional ingredients featured.
So far, they’ve tasted cuisines from over 20 countries, including Iran, Tibet, India and, of course, Somalia.
“We can have up to 25 people who interact as a community and share the workload of preparing and cooking the foods, so we learn how it’s done as well,” says Issa.
“I feel that food keeps us connected to our ancestral lineage, but at the same time it allows us to integrate within it all the beautiful things that you can get from other cultures and from the land, which can be very healing.”
It's not just about the dishes: participants also share stories around the communal table.
“It’s a powerful place where people feel safe to open up and start a conversation through food – sometimes difficult conversations,” says Issa.
Recently at the Iranian cooking and storytelling gathering, a man from Iran shared his story of being a shepherd and losing his sight at age 12.
“Sharing his struggles and triumphs allowed us to see the resilience in the human spirit and how amazing it is to come together as a community and help each other,” adds Issa. "We bring our stories with us from home and some of these don’t serve us anymore so, through our talking points, we’re better able to hear and see something new and beneficial from another culture and adopt that.
“This process has taught me that family exists beyond blood relations and that, as women, we need spaces that bring back cultural ancestral gatherings and to connect our stories with food.”
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