The Black Explorer and the North Pole

Black blood flows in the Arctic. When Matthew Henson explored the North Pole in the 1900s, he left behind a keepsake of his visits. His son Anaukaq was born in 1906.

Matthew Henson does not mention the child in his book A Negro Explorer at the North Pole, which was published in 1912. Robert Perry, the expedition leader, does not mention his own mixed-race son either. Both men followed the established tradition of male explorers – they came, they saw, and off the record, had sex with local women.

Henson and Perry spent over 20 years trying to reach the North Pole. The quest to be the first person on that spot was a holy grail of European explorers for two centuries. No one expected that a Black man would win the prize.

Sex on the Plantation, Sex in the Arctic

Slavery still ruled African American lives when Henson was born in 1866. He was born free, the third such generation in his family. They were free people of colour. Somewhere on a plantation in Maryland, near Washington D.C., a white master sexed and later freed a slave, thus birthing this branch of the Henson family.

Mathew Henson was orphaned as a child. At aged 12 years he was a cabin-boy on ships sailing to China, Japan, North Africa and Russia. Aged 20, Henson met Robert Perry a USA navy captain. For the next two decades the men were like conjoined twins. They first explored Central America, scouting out a possible route for the Panama Canal. Next it was the Arctic, where the men made their fame as explorers.

It was not unusual for white explorers to have Black companions, whether as slaves, servants or concubines. What was unusual was Matthew Henson role as the second in command of the expeditions. All on board the ships took orders from him.

Henson was a technical genius, skilled as a carpenter, blacksmith, dog-handler and hunter. He was the only member of the expeditions whose Arctic skills were respected by the Inuit (then called Eskimos). Henson was fluent in Inuit. He was an expert at building igloos. Henson makes it clear in his book that the expeditions depended on the skills, knowledge and labour of the Inuit from Greenland and Canada. The team were the first to reach so far north in the Arctic, and they did so by adopting the Inuit way.

Some 39 Inuit lived on board the final expedition ship. The women sewed seal-skin boots and bear fur pants and anoraks for the expedition crew. Inuit men guided the dog-drawn sledges over the shifting ice-floes.

Akatingwah, an Inuit woman, was the lover or ‘country wife’ of Henson. She gave birth to his only child in Greenland.

In his book Henson writes about the Inuit as individuals with names, quirks and attitudes. This is significant in an age where people of colour were simply mentioned as part of the exotic background of exploration. Or, if they were described at all, the words were dripping in racial stereotypes.

“I have been to all intents an Eskimo, with Eskimo for companions, speaking their language, dressing in the same kind of clothes, living in the same kind of dens, eating the same food, enjoying their pleasures, and frequently sharing their griefs,” Henson wrote. “I have come to love these people. I know every man, woman, and child in their tribe. They are my friends and they regard me as theirs.” (p.32)

Endless Ice and Endless Nights

North Pole fever gripped Europe and the Americas in the 1800s. It was part of a larger imperial quest to find an Arctic sea passage, as a shortcut, to the riches of Asia. The North Pole is the hat of the world. All steps from it lead to the south. Locating the North Pole was essential for making accurate maps and for knowing where you were.

As no one knew exactly where or what the Pole was, it became the perfect blank canvas for the European imagination. Writers moved Santa Claus, elves and reindeers to a new home in the North Pole. Frankenstein and other monsters lurked there too. The North Pole was also the home of unicorns, Superman and a possible volcanic entrance to the centre of the world.

People live in the Arctic, but no one inhabits the North Pole. That cherished spot is in the middle of the Arctic Ocean, and about 1,000 kilometres from the nearest village in Nunavut, Canada.

Mathew Henson and Robert Perry made eight attempts to reach the North Pole, between 1891 and 1908. They were convinced they had reached it on the final expedition. The jury is still out on if they hit the exact spot. What is undisputed is that they were the first to reach so far north.

I tried cross-country skiing when it was -42C. Each exhale froze in front of my face. My lungs trembled from taking in frigid air. Lips and eyelashes began to freeze in seconds. I bolted back inside the lodge in less than five minutes.

Matthew Henson spent weeks outside in such temperatures. He sledged over ice-packs in the quest for the North Pole. Sometimes the packs jammed together forming steep ice ridges, which the men climbed using ice picks to claw their way over. Crevices formed between the drifting ice-packs. Falling into one was a trip to the after-life. Other times the explorers glided over thin ice. Henson learned to be nimble and to be quick jumping off sinking sledges.

Then there were the storms. Ice and snow and screamed across the ice-scape. The winds were powerful enough to knock  down a man or blow over an igloo.

The sun also rises in the Arctic – once every six months. Henson writes of praying for daylight to replace the six months of endless darkness.

Success and the Man

Perhaps it was just pure ego on Robert Perry’s part. He was annoyed that Matthew Henson had stepped on the North Pole first. Henson’s sledge was in the lead. When the expedition returned to the USA, Perry was hailed as the hero. He received all the awards, prestige and greetings from presidents. Henson was ignored, his role reduced to that of the faithful servant. It was a play of the all too familiar trope of the great white hero and his loyal, but silent, Black servant.

Matthew Henson eventually got his dues as an old man. Some 30 years after his epic voyage across the ice-lands, he received the same medals and honours as Perry. Henson died in 1955.

In 1988 Matthew Henson and his wife were reburied in Arlington National Cemetery, right next to Robert Perry. The two Artic explorers were rejoined in death, as they had been in life. The descendants of their mixed-race Inuit sons were at the ceremony.

I stood in Henson’s shadow once, without knowing it. The three massive meteors caught my attention at the American Museum of Natural History in New York. In his book Henson described the effort it took to remove the extra-terrestrial rocks from the Arctic and bring them to the south. The sale of the meteors funded Perry’s North Pole expeditions. Matthew Henson’s hands once touched those rocks.



Black Panther: Who is the Hero?

Who speaks for me in Black Panther? It’s Erik Killmonger. For me the anti-hero is the voice of the African diaspora. Watching the movie in Toronto, on Wednesday night, in a packed theatre, I was full of anticipation for the film to roll. And when it did, it was mesmerizing. This was Afro-futurism in action.

The mythical East African country of Wakanda is full of technological marvels, while still deeply rooted in traditions. In its futuristic cities the skyscrapers that glittered in the night are modern versions of the Great Mosque of Djenné, Mali, which was built almost a millennia ago.  When the shephard-warriors fling their capes – brightly coloured African fabrics with abstract designs – they transform from cloth to an energy wall that deflects bullets. Beautiful.

I spent the first half of the film immersed in the story, laughing at the sly jokes, and while trying to capture all the references to historical and contemporary events. And then Erik appeared. A beautiful man, among other beautiful men, his brooding heart spoke to mine.

As a boy in a parking lot in Oakland, California, enclosed by fences, shattered dreams and broken buildings, Erik saw the future and became an orphan in the same instance. Erik (Michael B. Jordan) comes to Wakanda to find family and to find home.

Erik crossed the Atlantic Ocean in a reverse African migration. The first outward journey was made by his ancestors 500 years prior. On this homeward voyage, Erik finds that you can go back there, but you can’t go back then. That first voyage was both a rite of passage and a site of rupture.

Wakanda, secretive and inward looking, hides its advance technology in plain sight, by pretending to be just another poor Third World country. The pretense kept the colonizers at bay for hundreds of years. Until the betrayal. Vibranium is a magic mineral that powers Wakanda’s technology. When King T’Challa (Chadwick Boseman) drinks the mineral he gains superpowers and becomes the Black Panther superhero. A handful of vibranium is more powerful than a nuclear bomb and worth more than a bucketful of diamonds. The fight to protect Wakanda is also the fight to keep control over the mineral.

black panther who is the hero

In a typical superhero films, women usually play two roles – the corrupt or the innocent. In other words they are powerful witches until they fall or the proverbial damsel in distress waiting for the superhero to rescue them. Black Panther turns this expectation on its head. The women are warriors, a queen, spies and a scientist. It is amazing seeing so many Black women who are dark, beautiful and confident. Nakia (Lupita Nyong’o) the super spy has the king’s heart. She makes it clear that he has to respect her choices. Their romance is a lovely subtext of the film.

But, to what extent do the women in the film play on another stereotype, that of the strong Black woman? Not all of us are strong, and not all of us are as brave as warriors.  The film does not give space for the women to be soft and messy humans with all the vulnerability that it entails.

In Wakanda Erik reconnects with family, the throne, but is never at home. His vision of the future is one where he alone rules as emperor of the world. His futurity depends on spilling blood and destroying traditions. Erik is an expert at war from his years as a special operative in the USA army in Iraq, Afghanistan and a few African countries. Wakanda’s vibranium-powered defenses and weapons could make him invincible. It is easy to dismiss Erik as just another despot or dictator believing that he is a god. Or that he represents a thug from the inner-city ghetto. But I think he is more complex than that. Erik was made by his society. His life chances were already prescribed before he took his first baby step.

Erik wants change. He wants a just world where the poor have a chance to be somebody, and a chance to taste the good life.

Erik uses the only method he knows – violence. His whole life has been about living with violence or the consequences of it. In Erik’s world love makes a man weak. And yet in his visits to his father in the after-life, the tears roll down both men’s faces as they talk. It is the only love Eric has ever known. And it was snatched away from him.

Back in the world of the living, Erik forces Wakanda out of its isolation. He sparked a revolution whose roots went back decades to that one night in the parking lot. This revolution will not be interrupted, even if it costs him his life. High on a mountain plateau, Eric watches the sunset over the cities and valley of Wakanda, propped up by his cousin King T’Challa.

“Bury me in the ocean with my ancestors who jumped from the ships, because they knew death was better than bondage.” Erik’s last words made the audience gasp.

Wakanda will share its technology with the rest of the world. Standing in the parking lot the rightful rulers of Wakanda vow to rebuild the area turning it into a new campus for their international technology centre. The Africans have crossed the Atlantic Ocean again, this time as captains of their own ship. They have come to civilize the world, through peace.

“In times of crisis the wise build bridges, while the foolish build barriers. We must find a way to look after one another, as if we were one single tribe,” said King T’Challa.

black panther who is the hero

Black Panther is a blockbuster that lives up to its hype. The film has broken box office records on its opening weekend. So far it has made $426 million. It is on track to be in the top ten most popular films of all times. Black Panther is one of those cultural moments, when years from now people will be talking about how they felt when they saw the film. When Roots came out it was followed by a whole generation of children called Kunta Kinte. Something similar will happen with the names from Wakanda.

Black Panther is a story written by Black people for Black people, directed and staring Black people. The film industry justified its exclusion of Black people by stating that Black films don’t sell. The success of Black Panther shines a spotlight on the racism underpinning that claim.

In the last few years a trickle of Black films have smashed records and stereotypes. These include Selma, 12 Years A Slave, Hidden Figures, Dear White People and Girls Trip. These films show that the Black experience has universal appeal. It always had. It is only now being given the chance to shine. In the USA the push for change came from the Black Panther Party and the Civil Rights Movement, and now from Black Lives Matter. Different eras, but still the same struggle for freedom. The film Black Panther echoes all of these legacies in its futuristic scenes.

A lot of my friends have seen the film three or more times. I will join them. The film has so many layers that it takes more than one viewing to enjoy and appreciate all of them.

As the credits rolled, I thought of Erik Killmonger. Sleep in peace brother, cradled by the ancestors and lulled by the ocean waves. You sacrificed so that I might find life.

Canadian Black History Stamps

I used to collect stamps as a child. Come to think of it, I don’t remember anyone else who did so. African and Asian postage stamps were my favourite as they were larger, colourful, and had marvelous images of birds, flowers and butterflies. I gave up collecting stamps when I started collecting life lessons.

Postage stamps are like a peephole into a country’s living room. The scraps of paper are not just a means to an end – proof that you paid a tax to mail a letter – but are part of the everyday visual culture that surrounds us. Stamps are overlooked as they are small, cheap and disposable. But take a closer look and they are a record of who and what a country values.

The first postage stamp was issued in Canada in 1851. Josiah Henson was the first Black person featured on a Canadian stamp. He made the debut in 1983. There are 22 Canadian postage stamps with a Black History connection.

As stamps are printed by the central government, they reflect the official version of the country’s identity. New stamps come out every year. Tracking the changes of their images can show the changes in a society.

Let me stop here. This was meant to be a quick and simple blog post celebrating the latest Canadian Black History Month stamps.

The trouble with learning to think critically is that that part of my brain never shuts up. So while I can admire the stamps, my head goes to deconstructing how they reflect the dominant ideology of a society. It is surely no accident that Josiah Henson was the first Black Canadian memorialized on a stamp. He is the perfect icon of Canada as the land of freedom for Black people fleeing slavery in the USA. That was true. And it also hides the two centuries of slavery in Canada. That part of the story is rarely told so that it does not besmirch the national reputation.

The Black Canadian stamps feature athletes, musicians, politicians and historical figures. I think it is significant that quite a few activists are included. Their presence indicate that our life here has not been easy. Perhaps one day Canada Post may have to print a stamp commemorating Black Lives Matter.

Here is a pick of five Canadian Black History stamps. They area a fitting memorial to the woman and men who fought for our place in the snow.

canadian black history stamps

Lincoln Alexander and Kay Livingstone are on the 2018 stamp. Alexander (1922-2012) was the first Black politician elected to the House of Commons and the first Black Lieutenant Governor of Ontario. Livingstone (1918-75) was a feminist and activist championing the rights of Black Canadian women.

canadian black history stamps

Josiah Henson (1789-1883) escaped slavery to find freedom in Canada, via the Underground Railroad. He became the model for the hero in Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Henson wrote his own autobiography called The Life of Josiah Henson, Formerly a Slave, Now an Inhabitant of Canada, as Narrated by Himself. Henson’s stamp was issued on the centenary of his death.

canadian black history stamps

Black Canadian men who fought in World War I are honoured on the 2016 stamp. The men were from the No. 2 Construction Battalion. As segregation was part of army life in Canada, Black men had to protest to join the war effort. When they did so, most were placed in an all-Black unit, the No. 2 Construction Battalion. Black Canadians fought in the major battles of the war including Vimy Ridge and Passchendaele.

Mathieu Da Costa is the first Black person recorded in Canada. He was a translator and businessman in the fur trade between Indigenous people and Europeans in the 1600s. Da Costa was from modern Ghana. African translators like him were not uncommon in the international trades across the Atlantic Ocean.

Incidentally, I learned to sail in a tall ship like the one featured in the background of Da Costa’s stamp. This time I was crew, not cargo.  My sailing adventures are in Sailing on a Half Moon.


Black Canadian Feminist: It’s Time to Step into the Cold

As a Black Canadian woman, what does feminism mean to me? The initial answer is not very much. In my mind feminism and white women go together like milk and salt. In my lived experience, white feminist spout a universal creed of empowering all women, while ensuring that it is only white women who benefit from diversity policies. The sisterhood falls apart when it comes to my Black neighbourhood. I wanted sugar, nutmeg and chocolate in my milk. All I got was salt.

Womanist is uncomfortable in my gut. It speaks to the history of African American women. While they and I are both member of the African Diaspora, the particularities of our locations has created a very different lived experience. This becomes blindly clear when I am in the USA or among African Americans. I relate to them as Americans, first and foremost. Most of the time the cultural gap between us is as wide as the Grand Canyon. I am a Black Canadian, not a stereotyped softer, gentler more polite version of an African American.

Calling myself an African feminist upsets my belly too. I have lived or visited ten African countries. In each of them I was an outsider. Our shared Black skin was not enough to wallpaper over a cultural divide as long as the Rift Valley. Pain, stereotypes and misunderstandings do not make a good glue to hold a wallpaper in place. It is the pain of those sold, the pain of those left behind, and our mutual recriminations and reluctance to discuss whom did what to whom. The intensity of the pain makes it hard to see that we were both victims, but, in different ways.

On the surface my identity is simple – a Black Canadian woman. Look a little closer and that identity is more complex, even to me. My gravestone will read ‘Canadian: Jamaican born, England grew, Nigerian wed.’

That little epitaph summarises my roots. They straddle all three corners of the Atlantic Ocean, replicating that long ago triangular trade in rum, sugar and slaves. The ‘afterlife of slavery’ shapes my identity and defines my life as a Black Canadian woman.

It filters my views on feminism too. I am interested in woman-centred theorizing that captures the subtleties and ambiguities of being a middle-class, heterosexual, Jamaican, diluted Christian, Black woman, in Canada.  The theorizing has to be flexible enough to include the lived experiences of other Black women who have different weaves in the cloth of their own identity.

It seems to me that Black Canadian feminism fits the bill in terms of theorizing. So I am issuing a challenge to myself and all Black Canadian feminist – it is time that we embrace the cold. We too are Canadians, now we too must build our own warm feminist homes in the cold.


A Life of Books

In my mother’s house there was a large wooden sideboard against the south wall of the dining area. It was about eight feet high and just as long. This kind of furniture was popular in the 1870s.  A hundred years later it was a poor woman’s antique. Few praised its scratched beauty or its massive bulk.

The top half of the cabinet had large glass windows. It held all the best china and vases that we rarely used. Nestled along these were the knick-knacks that caught my mother’s eye – glass dolphins from the funfair, souvenir teaspoons from long ago trips, and eggshells painted with scenes from a Chinese countryside.

The bottom half of the cabinet was the most interesting to my eyes. Behind the slightly crooked wooden doors were the books. Most of them were once mine.

The full set of the Encyclopedia Britannica were still there. Neatly stacked upright along the shelf, the thick black covers with the gold lettering glimmered in the light. My mother had bought them from a door-to-door salesman. They were expensive back in the 1970s. They were paid for on weekly installments over many months. The Encyclopedia was the equivalent of the Internet back in the day. We were one of the few families on the housing estate to have a set. They were admired by many, but read only by me.

I recollect curling up on my bed and reading the Encyclopedia just for fun. They rewarded and did not mock my curiosity. They were a haven for a child when others grew tired of her hungry questions.

Each year, for our summer holidays, we spent weeks with our parents’ friends. I usually took along two volumes of the Encyclopedia. They carried me through the times of exile.

The Encyclopedia was my refuge. Open a page and I could be reading about the names of the constellations. Flip another and it was explaining the chemistry of water. No question or fact seemed too trivial or arcane for the book. The Encyclopedia cemented my love of history, science and geography. It was far easier to deal with abstract facts than the messiness of family life.

Another section of the shelf held my novels. They were the classics of British children’s literature – many tomes by Enid Blyton, Charles Dickens and the Jennings series by Anthony Buckeridge. There were hardback copies of Gulliver’s Travel, Ivanhoe, Kidnapped and many more.

As I grew, so my taste in books changed. I did not realize I was such a fan of the Mills and Boons romance series. There were about 30 of these paperbacks on the shelf. Shortly after that I got into Agatha Christie and her crime novels. I seemed to have read all her books as there were so many in the bottom of the sideboard.

I was an avid reader as a youth. The books in the cabinet were only the ones that I bought or were given to me. I read many more from the library.

In the cabinet there was not a single Black book among my collection. There was nothing that spoke of my history or experience as a Jamaican child growing up in small-town England. I was not surprised. That was how I grew up – a Black girl in the margins of a white world.

Black History Walks Toronto


Scotland by Train with Frederick Douglass

Let’s follow the journey of Frederick Douglass as he lectured on the anti-slavery circuit in Scotland in 1843. On this adventure we will visit the places where he spoke from big cities like Edinburgh and Glasgow to his sightseeing trips to Scottish castles and country houses.

This adventure tour is part of my Daydream Black History Tours around the around the world. They combine the best of adventure, travel and history – all from our unique Black perspective. The trips are a daydream right now. Let’s see if we can turn them into reality.

Frederick Douglass became a superstar in Scotland. His lectures and his books were sold out in each city. Douglass even considered permanently living in the country, as for the first time in his life, he was treated as a man and not as a slave.

The tour will be fun and historic. There will be plenty of stops for lunches at pubs, walking tours, shopping and boat tours.

Tour Highlights

  • Get to know Scotland’s Black History by following the footsteps of Frederick Douglass.
  • Visit the major cities in Scotland such as Edinburgh, Aberdeen and Dundee.
  • Boat and walking tours in the cities.
  • Hadrian’s Wall and the African troops who guarded it.
  • Visit castles, country houses, museums, pubs and art galleries – all with a connection to Black History.

Daily Itinerary

  • Day 1 – Arrive in Edinburgh
  • Day 2 – Edinburgh, the castles and the Black musicians at the Royal Courts from the 1400s.
  • Day 3 – Glasgow, tour the 1800s homes and estates of the tobacco barons.
  • Day 4 – Dundee, visits to the art gallery, museums and pubs.
  • Day 5 – Aberdeen, tour the castle, maritime museum and local pubs.
  • Day 6 – Inverness, see the castle, canal and Scottish highlands.
  • Day 7 – Return to Edinburgh
  • Day 8 – Hadrian’s Wall, walk in the footsteps of the African legion that guarded this edge of the Roman Empire.
  • Day 9 – Edinburgh, visits to a country house, distillery and shopping.
  • Day 10 – Depart from Edinburgh.

Facts File

  • 10 day land tour.
  • Minimum 4 and maximum 16 participants.
  • All meals and accommodation included.
  • Start and end in Edinburgh, Scotland.
  • Comfort level – road trip on modern roads.
  • Accommodation – comfortable hotels.
  • Departure – spring.

Who wants to come with me on this Daydream Black History Tours? Let’s see if we can make it real.

50 Places: A Black History Travel Guide of London


Fried Plantain and the African Diaspora

It started off with the fried plantain. Seven of us – all Black – sat around a table in a Jamaican café discussing the joy, and for some the horror, of eating the delicacy.

The café is the end spot of my Black History Walks in Toronto. Two women from the southern USA, Mississippi and Alabama, I think, were mystified about the deliciousness of eating ripe fried plantain. It was not part of their southern cuisine.

Plantain is one of those foods that shows the history of the African Diaspora. Its story is less well known compared to that of say sugar, cotton and tobacco. For starters, there is often confusion about what exactly a plantain is and its relation to bananas. In grocery stores I have seen plantains labeled as cooking bananas or plantain bananas. The two belong to the same Musa species. Scientifically there is little difference between them. Both are old crops in the human ladder that were domesticated eons ago.

The Musa species is native to Papua New Guinea and has spread throughout the tropics. The plant reached West Africa about 4,000 years ago and from there to the rest of the continent. How it reached West Africa hints at forgotten pre-historic trade routes between Africa and Asia.

Culturally there is a huge difference between how plantain and bananas are consumed. Plantains are generally bigger, starchier and less sweet than bananas. Whether ripe or green, plantains are cooked before they are eaten.

To me, fried plantain is sweet and soft with a delicate flavour. To one of the Americans it was simply mushy, sticky and bland. She had tried eating several times. This time, she pursed her lips, and declined.

Of the seven Black people around the table, by nationality, there were three Canadians and four Americans. If arranged in a Venn diagram, the biggest overlap was the four people with Caribbean heritage, two each from the Canadian and American circles.

Fried plantain was comfort food to the Caribbean sub-group, who all knew it as a delicious snack or as a side dish to lunch or dinner.

And there was another subdivision in the group. This time within the Caribbean sub-group, as it contained people from Guyana, Jamaica and Costa Rica. Three spoke English as their mother tongue, while the Costa Rican spoke Spanish. As a member of the Afro-Latino community in the USA, he was a minority several times over. He was tired of explaining that he was Black and Latino. The twin pillars of his heritage were as indivisible as the heart.

Fried plantain was not part of the African Canadian woman’s cooking culture. She got to know it when she moved to Toronto and started hanging out with new Caribbean friends. Her family came to Canada over two centuries ago. They were part of the flood of refugees who fled the USA due to the American Revolution. These Loyalist scorned independence and wanted to continue living in a colony that was loyal to the British royals.

She did not know if her ancestors came as slaves – part of the property or the white Loyalists. Or if they came freed – the prize for serving on the British side during the revolutionary war.

The Black Loyalists stronghold was Africville, Nova Scotia on the east coast of Canada. The community thrived in the town until the 1960s. Then it was bulldozed. Slum clearance according to the official rationale. The attempt to make the Black community disappear is part of the long tradition of anti-Black racism in Canada.

Like all the people around our table, plantain is not indigenous to the Americas or the Caribbean. The African staple sailed across the Atlantic Ocean in the same slave ships. The crop was easy to grow, high in starch and provided energy to those worked by the whip.

Bananas are eaten all over the world. Plantain has a more limited culinary appeal. The largest plantain eaters are still in Africa, in Nigeria, Rwanda and the Congo.

I take green or semi-ripe plantains with me on camping trips. The vegetable is easy to carry, does not bruise easily and won’t spoil. As it ripens the plantain becomes sweeter. On camping trips I serve it sliced and fried as a starter for dinner. With lots of explanations on what it is and how to eat it. Plantain is also delicious when roasted, boiled or mashed and served with a rich, thick and spicy stew.

Fried plantain. A gorgeous snack that encapsulates the history and cooking cultures of the African Diaspora. Around the café table, with reggae playing in the background, it sparked many discussions on what it means to be Black in America and in Canada.

Heartbeats in Africa: A Memoir of Travel and Love

Photo credit: Homemade Zagat