Cosmopolitan_SriLanka_December_2016

178 ^ Cosmopolitan ^ DECEMBER 2016

live it up!

I

like to think of myself

as a third-culture

individual. I know

the term is generally

used for children but

it applies to my situation,

too: I am at home in a place

whose culture is so different

to that of my motherland

and adopted homeland.

I was born in Ukraine,

which at that time was still

part of the Soviet Union and

closed off behind the Iron

Curtain. But when I was

9 years old, the Cold War

ended, my country became

independent and the rest of

the world seemed to draw

nearer. Years later, working

as a broadcast journalist,

I met my husband and,

when I became pregnant,

we moved to England,

where he is from. I was very

happy and satisfied with my

life at the time. But after

my illness, when I started

travelling around and seeing

the things I did, I realised

that I didn’t “fit” in neither

England nor Ukraine—my

culture was not defined by

these two countries, but

rather by everything I had

seen and experienced.

Shortly after giving birth, I

was diagnosed with a rare

form of lung cancer, and

for a time, I didn’t know

how long I had. But as I

was in hospital wondering

why this was happening to

me (I had never smoked; I

had a beautiful baby boy),

I promised myself that if I

were to survive, I was going

to do something worthwhile,

whatever that may be.

When I got out of the

hospital, to take my mind

off things, I started baking.

I wasn’t very good at the

beginning and the cakes

were basic, but it helped me

to cope. A couple of months

later, a friend called me and

said she knew of a charity

that was setting up support

groups across the UK for

women of ethnic minorities,

and suggested I work with

them. I was a journalist

by profession and had no

experience in this capacity.

Nevertheless, I started

helping these immigrant

women set up their new

lives in the UK, and I

loved it more than I had

expected. It reminded me of

journalism—working with

people, hearing their stories

and acting on them.

As I got more involved in

the job, I continued baking

on the side and got better

at it. I love seeing people

eat my cakes—they give

off a sense of happiness

and satisfaction. When I

bake, I try to understand

the person ordering the

cake – what they like,

their personality traits –

and I combine flavours

uniquely so I can give them

something they haven’t

tasted before that feels like

a part of them. I love when

cakes feel natural. I never

make mine too sweet, and

prefer using ingredients

like yoghurt in my icing to

standard butter creams.

I also prefer not to make

the same cake more than

a couple of times. For me,

the fun is to experiment—

although, that said, I’m

always asked to make carrot

cake and oreshki, which are

traditional, walnut-shaped

Ukranian cookies filled with

caramel and immensely

crunchy!

Eventually, I felt I wanted

to do more than my job

afforded. A primary interest

for me was female genital

mutilation, practiced hugely

in Kenya. It was there that

I put to the test my strong

conviction that baking can

bring women together. It

was tough to communicate

at first, but when we started

baking together, it was

amazing how these women

let down their guard and

opened up about their

experiences. It validated

the sense I had that baking

could help others as much as

it did me.

I had a similar experience

with women in Kosovo,

where rape had been used as

a weapon of war. Like many

in Sri Lanka, the women

had seen men they loved

being killed and immense

atrocities take place before

their eyes, so there was a

definite hesitancy to open

up to a complete stranger.

But when we baked, the

situation changed. The radio

was switched on, the women

started singing and dancing,

and they slowly related their

stories. That’s when you

can really effect meaningful

change, like suggesting they

start their own bakery as a

self-sustaining venture—

something that gives them

sisterhood and company,

and keeps them independent

and motivated.

It was also immensely

satisfying to set up the net

for a wider sisterhood—to

collect funds through baking

from women in major cities

that would help those who

had suffered process and

heal, the fundamental basis

of Tamu Bakery. I make

sure the women with whom

I work know where the

funds are coming from and

understand that women

all over the world are

committed to making their

lives better.

Participating in this

dialogue is an important

part of why I travel.

Aside from exploring the

sights, smells and tastes

of somewhere new and

exciting, I enjoy meeting

and listening to women

the most. My family always

laughs, but for me, it’s the

most fascinating thing.

For instance, when I travel

around Sri Lanka, I look

for the old woman with

a garden full of mangoes

and a verandah where we

can sit and talk about her

life, pick some mangoes

and make a jam that I

would then use on a cake

for someone in Colombo.

The whole process becomes

about her experiences and

her life story that I pass

on to other women I meet

in the hope of catalysing

meaningful change.

the radio Was

sWitched on,

the Women started

singing and

dancing, and they

sloWly related

their stories.

ThaT’S When you

can really effect

meaningful change,

like suggesting

they start their

oWn bakery as a

self-sustaining

venture—something

that gives them

sisterhood and

company, and keeps

them independent

and motivated.

““