Sunday, 11 November 2012

The Art of Making Kefir & the OKK

What is the use of spirituality if you don't have a healthy body in which to enjoy the fruits of higher consciousness? Or to put it another way, how can you let your higher consciousness predominate your waking awareness if you are constantly bogged down by ill health?

Enter Kefir: a strange, spongiform colony of bacteria and cocci that transforms milk (even water) into a health drink that reputedly keeps the inhabitants of the Caucasus mountains, its place of origin, healthy well into their 100's. Though this lactic acid flavoured drink resembles yoghurt, it is definitely not generated in the same way -  no heating of the milk is necessary.

Kefir is a pro-biotic superfood rich in nutrients like vitamins, pro-vitamins and minerals in a highly digestible form, which makes it excellent for the ailing and infirm, the elderly, or the time-challenged. Its a general immune booster, is said to slow tumour growth and help destroy harmful bacteria in the gut.

I came by our first batch of kefir grains from a health shop in the old part of Palma de Mallorca, oh, some 25 years ago. I don't recall if I'd set out to acquire this mysterious culture that day, or whether it had been merely gifted to me by the Birkenstock shod health shop owner whose credo it was to keep sharing this god-given health promoter. She in turn had received it from a Swiss pilot who had picked it up somewhere in the Caucasus. There was no question of payment.


To a Muslim or Arab speaker, the word kefir (pronounced ke-feer) may sound suspiciously akin to kufr (pronounce ku-fer). Which is of course translated as denial or rejection of reality and by extension disbelief in the divinely revealed way of living and worshiping. Rest assured it shares absolutely no common etymological root,  but probably derives from a Turkish work meaning milk foam. Or possibly from 'kef', another Turkish word meaning 'pleasure.'  In fact, the wholesomeness of this incredible miracle agent is mythologized in an interesting story about its origins among the tribes of the Caucasus: 'These tribes believed that the grains were given to them by the Prophet Muhammad, who blessed them with exceptional health-promoting properties. As a result, the tribes were forbidden to share the grains or the method of preparing kefir with outsiders.' Clearly the Swiss pilot had charmed someone out of some of their culture!

The main proponent and consumer of the kefir fermented milk in our family is my father. Indeed, it is his expertise in nurturing these little critters (we call them animales - pron. 'animahl-less') that we rely upon. In this matter too he is my Shaykh! Over the years he has learnt to tweak them into a perfection of spongy white tubular colonies, and while he upholds the tradition of giving away the culture free, he also regularly plies visitors with his kefir-based concoctions and even travels with small globules of them so as to keep himself supplied with this elixir of health. Having been made the happy recipient of such a starter batch from his recent visit, I have already inducted two friends into the Order of Kefir Knights (Note: you are still in your probationary period!). That is to say I have shared the burgeoning culture with them and shown them how to cultivate it. Should you wish to be ordained into the OKK, do contact me.

Though there is a methodology to producing milk kefir, it is also an art. You have to be fully cognizant of all the elements converging to create this magical drink, such as ambient temperature, quality of milk, jug material, sifting utensils, gentleness in the handling, time allowed for fermentation and so on. For example, never use UHT milk with kefir. The grains don't like it and will reward your efforts with a goopy, execrable sludge. Use fresh milk. I prefer a skimmed cow's milk to the richer buffalo available here, but I'm sure goat's or sheep's milk would be even better. I also like to talk to my kefir grains to encourage them.

Another critical consideration is the time alotted to fermentation. If left alone it will keep fermenting. Since I love sour things, its not a problem for me, but if you are trying to dose elderly grandparents or fussy children with the stuff, be sure to learn when your batch is ready before it ages further. The point of readiness is when it is like a thick milk, before the clumping stage.


Kefir can be used just as is or in smoothies. If left too long to ferment, especially without an occasional stir, the whey separates from the solids and a kefir cheese coagulates around the spongiform blobs which then have to gently  shaken to release it. My father discourages the use of water for chlorine contaminates the flavour. Mineral water is ok. I simply spoon back over the already strained kefir milk over the clump of culture so as to loosen it up. The cheese can be used like any sharp cream cheese - mix it with crushed garlic, black pepper and fresh herbs like mint or dill for a great spread. You can experiment using kefir in the place of buttermilk or yoghurt in pancakes, scones, sourdough bread, Asian flatbreads and even in Asian curries like 'kurhi' ( delicious vegetarian pakora curry) - excellent if you have been left with kefir that is too tart for your palate.

Although in the past I occasionally went through revivalist phases of cultivating this refreshing libation, I have never managed to keep it up as in my home I have been the sole consumer, unable to arouse equivalent enthusiasm in the other inhabitants of our household.  Quite frankly, the warm temperatures of my Karachi kitchen is like a steroid shot to these li'l ol' bacteria: what should take at least 18-24, if not 36 hours, to ferment properly, is often ready within 6-10 hours. Thus I find we cannot keep up with flow. Being awash with bountiful kefir without appreciative recipients is more than my conscience can handle. They are living creatures after all.

Are you ready to become a member of the OKK?





Saturday, 10 November 2012

Light-Detector Heart

October was a busy month. And the start of November. I was so busy being in the moment I didn't have time to process or analyze. Just had to be! Or was I becoming? Particle or wave? Cue emoticon for wink.

My father was visiting Pakistan after a gap of two and a half years. This much maligned but blessed country has long provided an orbital pull on him. In his early days of awakening to his higher purpose he dedicated much time and wealth to working with people in this land. He even went far down the path of trying to move his whole family here, buying land and starting to build, but that plan never came to fruition and South Africa claimed him instead.

And here is where we leave off the father part and start the teacher bit. Shaykh Fadhlalla Haeri has been my teacher and guide since my late teens. It was one of those things I knew at the age of 18 beyond conscious thought: he would be my teacher, like it or lump it. And even though I had cause to reconsider this state of affairs many years later, I chose, once again, his light, his flavour, the offering of his portal to higher wisdom sciences that would help me 'become' who I am in essence.


In the early days of his spiritual awakening, he would regularly go 'wali-hunting', that is, travelling throughout the Muslim world to meet and commune with beings of light, living or deceased. In Pakistan that meant he travelled through Sindh and Punjab visiting the shrines, taking the light detector of his heart to observe and feel the traces of luminescence left in their wake. He also connected deeply with a few living beings, the more prominent among them being: Shaykh Ikram Chishti, a hakim and shaykh in Hyderabad, Sufi Barkat Ali with his Qur'an 'hospital' near Faisalabad, and a humble soul known as Samandari Baba who lived on the very edge of Karachi, in a hut made of  marine flotsam and jetsam which barely stayed above sea level.

Several of his students, myself included, have been the beneficiaries of these exposures.  Over the years, many have come from abroad to experience something of the legacy of these awliya, and a few of them have been fortunate enough to accompany Shaykh Fadhlalla on these trips. These are my favourite types of adventures, for with such a highly calibrated tuning fork in our midst, miracles often happen. Not that we are looking for miracles per se; Shaykh Fadhlalla often emphasizes that mere breath is a miracle - so what more sign could one want? And indeed the very word miracle in Arabic, mu'jizah, derives from a verb which means to be weak and feeble, as if to imply that one's trust and faith being weak, one seeks the supernatural in order to be restored to the essentially deeper state of knowingness that all is from the One, sustained by the One, and returning to the One.

What I mean is that we get to be in the midst of serendipitous confluences of hearts and events, where aha! moments abound, epiphanies wash away our virtual cataracts, and sheer humility in the previously unappreciated paradoxes of human experience floods our veins. In his company we are shown how to witness perfection. We tend to give better attention, to  notice, to hear, to listen carefully, because we are accompanying a being who has truly aligned all the feathers of his self with the light beacon of his soul. And that's a delicious slipstream to fly in.




Tuesday, 6 November 2012

Poem - Arabesque



 
In the Now
you don't wonder how
to be
or what
to do
you just melt
in a glissade
and jeté
                  into a chassé
               then fly by in
                           a  t o u r   e n   l’ a i r e
without knowing these names
dug in French
scripted
into motion
for your language
needs
no
words
to
pirouette
in