Mary arrived late, flustered and with a hunted look in her eyes. She sat quietly with the other women at the table, eyes darting around, not sure where to look. As the food was served, she gingerly took some and ate, still sitting in silence. The dominant language in our group is Arabic, so the women translated for her as we did some English activities. The next few weeks followed a similar pattern. After one session she was sitting on a bench on the street slightly rocking and looking anxious.
Then last week she cooked her favourite national dish Makluba. She arrived early, got us all organised with chopping vegetables, taking everything in her stride. She had a new confidence and a glint in her eye. Cooking always takes longer on our simple 2 hob electric burner, so she kept popping outside for a nervous vape, but then the food was ready. We all watched with excitement as she turned the pot over and revealed a tower of steaming, layered, fragrant chicken pilav with aubergines and potatoes. As we all chanted “Ah” and “ooh” she was filled with pride and happiness.
Sharing food that day in community was a step towards her healing.