The healing power of Sunday kos

I am a comfort eater and it’s thanks to my grandmothers and mom that I associate a good meal with comfort, healing and love; and Sunday kos is the epitome of this comfort.

“Seven colours”, as this meal is fondly known, is that one meal we looked forward to after a long work week, because it was a chance for us to gather and break bread with loved ones. Traditionally this meal was enjoyed after church on Sundays, hence the name “Sunday kos”.

But over time, with most people ditching organised religion and the Sunday church service, the meal evolved and was enjoyed every time we gathered. It became the glue that held us together, healing us mentally and spiritually by transcending economic and social barriers.

This meal got its “seven colours” name from the different vegetables, meats and grains normally served on one plate, making this plate our version of “eating the rainbow” and “eating more plants”. The seven colors plate is our response to these two wellness slogans that are a call to action for food sustainability and planetary health. I was surprised to learn that the Eat Lancet Commission Report (2019), which highlights that to achieve the UN Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and end world hunger and poverty, we must redefine our food systems to improve human health and environmental sustainability, with the “planetary plate” being the standard we must all strive for.

Through my untrained eye, this planetary plate looks very much like our seven colours plate and the communal Ethiopian plate that consists of different vegetables, pulses and meat stews served on Injera flatbread. Once again, our plant-rich plates that we as Africans, have enjoyed for decades formed a blueprint for healing humans and mother earth.

This realisation took me back to my Mama’s kitchen in Mamelodi, where she would lovingly prepare Sunday kos for us weekly. The preparation for this special meal always started on the Saturday, with my mother shopping for spices in Marabastad and fresh produce from Batlatja Veg market, which was run by Ntate Mogale at A5 section, in Mamelodi west.

This market made fresh fruits and vegetables accessible to our community at a good price, and supplied the street vegetable vendors with affordable produce for resell. The seven colours meal became the catalyst for economic circularity in our communities, because all our ingredients were sourced from local businesspeople.

The next stop would be the butchery, which my parents owned and was managed by my dad’s youngest brother Rangwane Malekutu, where we would pick up our weekly meat order. The meat sold at our butchery was fresh, A-grade, affordable and was supplied directly to the butchery by a local Afrikaans farmer in Cullinan, who took great care and pride in raising his animals.

Once we had all our ingredients for the Sunday kos, we would head back home for lunch and mama would start her preparations. These preparations ranged from her marinating the meat or her salt brining the Mleqwa chicken overnight in the fridge. Some other time-consuming salads like the chakalaka bean salad and beetroot pickle were also prepared on Saturday to ensure a smooth and timely execution.

My parents were semi-religious, which means that we only attended church on special religious festivals like Easter and Christmas. Sunday mornings were dedicated to the music church of Aretha Franklin, Roberta Flack, Letta Mbulu, Donny Hathaway and Miriam Makeba. Their music was always playing in the background while mama — with a little help from us — peeled, chopped and lovingly prepared our lunch.

The music lifted our spirits and made the labour of cooking the meal light and joyful, the secret ingredient to a delicious and healing offering. Mama was a master in the kitchen, blending spices and herbs to create flavours that were so intoxicating and inviting that we always had neighbours dropping in, and staying on for lunch, making our Sunday kos a communal affair.

The final plate was always biodiverse and included chakalaka bean salad, imbuya (amaranth leaves) with potatoes, mashed cinnamon pumpkin, ushatini (tomato, chili and onion salsa), coleslaw salad, beetroot pickle, dombolo bread and chicken curry or roasted/ braaied meat. The plate’s composition was always 90% vegetables, grains, beans and 10% meat — very close to what the Eat Lancet report’s planetary plate recommends.

Sitting down to enjoy Sunday kos with loved ones was always a special time for connection, inspiration, love and healing, with the bright coloured plate at the centre of this alchemy. My mama like most township mums, who honoured the Sunday kos tradition understood the power of food, music and community as a catalyst for healing and nurturing our communities, broken by apartheid, poverty and dispossession.

I am sad to see this tradition slowly leaving our communities because of rising food costs and unemployment. It is important for us to pass on this tradition to our kids, in a world that tells us that “good food” is only for the rich, plant-forward dishes are poverty foods and eating fast foods cements our social standing, at the expense of our health and that of mother earth. We need to stand up as active citizens and support community food gardens for food security and economic sustainability of our communities.