‘Kuumba’ means creativity

The sixth day of Kwanzaa was always my favorite when I was growing up. Here’s why.

Photo by Obi - @pixel7propix on Unsplash

I can recall as early as six years old celebrating Kwanzaa all seven days with work colleagues and former college roommates of my parents. Each family would host a different night at their home, which included preparing African-inspired buffets and kid-friendly red punches.

But the sixth night belonged to Mama Abena, my fashionable, eccentric godmother, who was also the founder of ETA Theatre. That was so appropriate because the sixth day of Kwanzaa was Kuumba, which means creativity. She was responsible for hosting “the feast,” the liveliest night of Kwanzaa when everyone would dress up in their fanciest, most glamorous African clothing and stay until well after midnight. It was New Year’s Eve, after all.

She’d feature African drummers and dancers in her spacious South Side Chicago apartment, and every family was required to bring a homemade dish.

Everyone would always look forward to what my mother would bring. It was always different. My mom’s culinary repertoire consisted of healthier soul food fare enhanced by Caribbean and West African accents. She was also quite a good baker, making delicious five layer chocolate cakes from scratch.

For the Kuumba feast, she’d always make an enormous, hearty stew from scratch so that every guest would get at least one bowlful. The protein in the stew would vary and it was always the star. One year it was smoked chicken and shellfish. On another occasion, it was leftover turkey from Thanksgiving. But the crowd pleaser was oxtail. She was using oxtail in her stews long before it became a culinary sensation—and so expensive. Hers was always so well seasoned and tender and transformed her stews into something magical. The stews were accompanied by a ladle large enough for one scoop only that would go over her perfectly fluffy white rice.

While my mom’s stews were always one of the stars of the Kuumba celebrations, there were other great dishes as well. Another one of my godmothers (I had 10 godmothers!) always brought her version of gumbo. At least one guest would bring black-eyed peas because they brought you good luck in the new year. Someone would bring smoked collard greens because those were supposed to bring you money in the new year. There were also plantains, potato salad, macaroni and cheese, buttery cornbread, biscuits, fried chicken (I still remember the one time someone tried to pass off KFC as their own), casseroles, sweet potato pies, and much more.

I attended those Kuumba feasts every year until my late teens. Of course, that was when I wanted to hang out with my own friends, so I left my mom at home whipping up her legendary stew.

Many of those people, including Mama Abena, have passed away, leaving a legacy behind of great times and some of the best food I’ve ever experienced. Those special gatherings helped shape me into the woman I am now.

Kuumba means creativity. A night for a magnificent feast. I hope someone out there is carrying on the tradition.