by Natalia Samaniego, SOYL Suwa’lkh Mentor

by Natalia Samaniego, SOYL Suwa’lkh Mentor
by Caty Janze, SOYL Vancouver Mentor
Growth is a huge part of SOYL, both explicitly through workshops and more implicitly through activities like gardening, cooking, and art. Both have strengths and weaknesses, and the combination of the two creates an environment that allows youth chances to become comfortable in areas they wouldn’t otherwise.
We do workshop most days at SOYL on food security and sustainability, mental and physical health, and leadership and social enterprise. Although I’ve learned from each workshop, the social enterprise ones are the most challenging. Food workshops invite us to reflect on our values and our world, health workshops on how our minds and bodies work, while leadership/social enterprise workshops focus on our skills and how to market ourselves. The latter is difficult because saying good things about yourself is infinitely harder than quietly believing them; lending yourself to others opens you up to being misunderstood, or worse, being understood and still seen as inadequate. Why it’s uncomfortable is also exactly why it’s necessary. Confidence and self-knowledge are often conflated with arrogance and self-involvement, and so being allowed to speak well of yourself without fear of criticism is important for building those skills.
The other defining part of what makes SOYL what it is is the activities! We do work around the farm, and we cook for community eats. These activities get us to move our bodies, enjoy being outdoors, and build community. They also let us practice skills we talk about in workshops. After all, you can’t cook without being confident you won’t start a grease fire.
Overall, SOYL has been one of the best experiences of my life. I have grown more confident in my leadership skills over the course of this year’s program and watching the youth form friendships and develop skills has been fantastic.
Learn more about the SOYL program HERE.
Food is nourishment. Food is connection.
Good days, bad days, celebrations, mourning. Food is there. It can be a burden, an obligation met by busybody, overstressed workers, parents, caregivers. It can be a relief, a comfort, a joy; a refuge to hide away, to spend all the time one’s heart desires to craft the shapes, and flavours, and undertones of a remembered but distant dish–of remembered people, places, experiences.
And of new ones.
Food can be the poverty of an empty table. It can be the extravagance of waste and excess.
Food can be dreaded. It can be hoped for.
~~~~~
I attended a [food-]storytelling workshop yesterday. Parts of the words above came from my scribbled thoughts to the free-write prompt: What does food mean to you?
Food is fundamental and vital for life. We need it (and we need to grow/gather/cultivate it) to survive, to live, to thrive. Food can be a source of nourishment not only physically or biologically, but also for the soul. Traditional foodways and meals can bring back good memories and warm fuzzy feelings. We like to eat.
These things we know. And often we hold them as universally applicable to all. After all, everyone eats, right?
Talking with a friend at the storytelling workshop about our personal stories of food and “food stories” in general, the topic emerged of Hey, wait a minute. Not everyone has a positive relationship or association with food.