Food and eating are central metaphors in all cultures. Importantly, they grace essential rituals in our lives, from birth to death. Halloween, and specifically the Día de Muertos (Day of the Dead), whose origins are traceable to Mexican society, offers us an opportunity to reflect on the ways in which humans construct world views and then naturalise them (by treating these views as if they are timeless and natural). Without delving into the specific rituals of the Day of the Dead in Mexican culture and its varied manifestations in the Americas, a central element of this hallowed day is the centrality of food in building community. Altars are not only erected for loved ones who have joined the ancestral world, but most significantly, food is also prepared for them. It turns out that feeding the ancestors is not a cultural practice unique to the ancient Mexica people, but that’s a story for another day.
Fast forward to October 2024, and as the season grows more colourful, so are the variety of Halloween decorations that have sprouted in my neighbourhood – from oversized pumpkins to fake crime scenes, smeared with fake blood as well as giant and puny skeletal remains of people who once had flesh – some, just their bony hands or feet sticking out from the earth. The meanings and rationale for these decorations are likely as varied as the range of curious items that have been procured from the giant cathedrals of capitalist peddlers – from doing what Romans do while in Rome, to an actual celebration of the importance of remembering loved ones who have recently or longed crossed over from the human world. Irrespective of what meanings may be significant to the decorators, my observations have led me to this singular conclusion – they all are fascinated by and with the non-human world. Indeed, in all cultures, humans assert the idea and have forged institutions to “naturalise” the belief that deceased persons exist in different forms in the non-human world (ghosts, spirits, angels, devils, etc.). Remarkably, these non-human worlds are generally recognisable by their social structures, the stratified positioning of their occupants and their determined preoccupation with human affairs. Simply put, these realms are not merely extensions of the human world but also tend to have characteristics that are strikingly similar to the social structures of the natural world inhabited by their human creators.[1]
Which brings me to my favourite Halloween decoration of 2024. A wedding party on a neighbour’s lawn. A heterosexual couple is about to make their grand entrance – the man beautifully adorned in a black suit and red shirt; the bride, veiled up in glowing white, symbolising her purity even in the world beyond. A wrinkled, monstrous servant is up and about, serving attendees a human skull. At the same time, a trio of overzealous witches (or freed female spirits) are busy cooking up something to entertain guests – or perhaps, just joyous over the remains of the newest catch they’re preparing to devour. What fascinates me about this elaborately decorated shrine is not only the idea that these non-humans are engaged in characteristically human activities (they have rituals, too) but also that food is central, if not a significant component of their activities. We may wonder about their cannibalistic instincts or undomesticated appetite – but these, too, are very human attributes…
Ah! What would this world and the non-human realm be without food? Even the dead also need something to chew on! Happy Día de Muertos
Footnotes
[1] Take, for example, the image of an easily irritated but kingly male deity, seated on a judgement thrown, preoccupied with the wrongdoings of humans, taking stock of every transgression they may be involved in – such a deity would be easily recognised by individuals who inhabit the world of Abrahamic religions whereas such a deity would be radically foreign to foraging societies, bereft of the idea of kingship and the raw exercise of absolute power.
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