05.08.08 kulturnatib

Moringa

When I went to Riyadh many years ago one of the most astounding sights I saw was a most humble one. It was one that was totally missed by the thoroughly unproductive and expensive, compulsory introduction to Saudi life seminar all OFWs going to the Kingdom had to go through a week prior to departure.

By the time I saw this I had already integrated fairly well into the Bisaya community there through the Bisaya organization who would regularly get together to talk, reminisce, network, play, take care of the business of the organization and, most importantly and most often, eat. Or, that should be feast.

It was in the course of one of these feasts when I spied it first on the table, looking very familiar and delicious, as it invariably is. I immediately thought, of course with such a huge Pinoy, even Bisaya, population here these could be shipped over easily and probably fairly cheaply as well.

But, being the curious amateur journalist -- I was also by this time editing the organization's newsletter -- I could not stop at that thought and had to ask. “Oh, that?” our host answered. “We have a steady supply of that from the backyard.”

I had to see to believe. I saw and believed. Clumped together in a corner of the backyard garden were two or three robustly leaved moringa oleifera trees. As we all know these trees answer more readily to the name malunggay or kalamunggay or even better, kamunggay.

Our host had brought a cutting back from one of his home leaves. He had no idea whether it would grow or not. He just liked malunggay soup especially with a vanquished cock from a cockfight.

You don't know OFWs if you should wonder how the vanquished cock from a cockfight can be managed in Saudi where even to keep a pet is haram, forbidden or somewhat of a crime. Don't bother about seeing it. Just believe it. It can be managed and kamunggay can be made to grow there.

My father and most of his generation loved and lived on kamunggay. Until his death at the fairly ripe age of 75 he always insisted that a kamunggay dish should be among those on his dining table at every meal except breakfast.

Neither he nor my mother, who both insisted that we eat what they did, often whether we liked it or not, made a big deal out of kamunggay as being some kind of miracle plant that it is now made out to be. They just knew that it was good for us. No ifs or buts. Period.

Turns out that they are right. Science has caught up to the lowly malunggay. Only recently when botanicals are capturing a segment of the worldwide health and healing market has malunggay come into its own.

Also, recently word has it that malunggay might even make a bigger dent in the growing though controversial biofuels market, reportedly edging out the Indian Jathropa. Malunggay cultivation supposedly solves the nagging problem that biofuels represents of taking food from the mouths of the underfed to fueling cars of the overfed.

These are nice thoughts to dwell on. But not mine, not now. I'm thinking about two recent letters. Both reminding me two things about the same thing. One tells me I shouldn't forget to give my partner malunggay soup for general health and quick recovery from a recent delivery. The other encouraged me that malunggay soup is good for lactating mothers and not to be discouraged by challenges that breastfeeding often presents. Breastfeeding is the way to go.

Like we need to be told.

Unfortunately, we don't have a backyard. Even if we did, unlike our Saudi host years back, I'm convinced an experiment in growing malunggay here is a doomed proposition. Unless it is some Frankenfood experiment.

Still, fortunately, as mentioned above, the malunggay has come a long way. It is now available in a capsule. Probably, coated in a flavor of your choice and none of them malunggay. I just need to find it.

But, if I had my way, I would have them the way my father always had them. Maybe not like my friend in Saudi, cockfighting is surely illegal here anyway, but in a piping hot regular chicken soup with the tinge of bitterness of malunggay, the flavor of faraway home.