To truly grasp the concept of food as medicine and the future of food, it’s important to explore and weave the past, present, and future of Indigenous foodways through Indigenous and non-Indigenous perspectives.
Through my work with Nourish, a national health care leadership program that believes food is medicine, I learned this concept can be called Two-Eyed Seeing, or “Etuaptmumk,” a concept shared by Elder Albert Marshall, a respected Mi’kmaq Elder from Eskasoni First Nation in Nova Scotia. Etuaptmumk should be applied across all the essential areas of healing. This way of being, thinking, and doing is crucial not only in health care, but also in education, the justice system, economics, technology, etc. It is imperative for the sustainability of our planet, Mother Earth.
In Indigenous ways of doing, we encompass the body, mind, and spirit as interconnected. Imagine a braid of sweetgrass, where each strand represents a different aspect of well-being. Weaving the strands together strengthens the braid, just as combining traditional healing practices with Western medical treatments creates a holistic, whole-person approach to health care.
You might be thinking that this approach is quite logical and wonder why it isn’t regularly applied. The answers are layered in the complex and deeply rooted impacts of colonization.
Indigenous food systems were, and still are, severely disrupted by colonization. Food sources were decimated, land was stolen, and entire communities were forcibly relocated to unfamiliar and often unresourceful areas, creating a system where the transmission of essential knowledge and skills became impossible.
Colonization deliberately aimed to make Indigenous communities feel ashamed of who we were, affecting not just our foodways but our entire way of life. Our spirituality, family structures, and cultural practices were systematically and intentionally dismantled.
Recent events have brought renewed attention to our food systems, particularly in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Daily, I see complaints about rising food prices—$8 for a dozen eggs, $10 for a block of cheese, and let’s not talk about the price of romaine lettuce again. The practice of corporate grocer profiteering off of hunger has been ongoing for Indigenous communities for decades. The disparity in food prices and quality has long been a stark reality for remote Indigenous communities, often experiencing even higher costs and less access to fresh food compared to those in urban areas.
I won’t mention who is profiting from this situation, but I challenge you to test your Google skills to find out. Start with “Which grocery store serves Indigenous communities in Canada.”
While I have painted a rather dark picture, I’m happy to share that many Indigenous communities and allied organizations across this country are actively collaborating to restore Indigenous foodways. From coast to coast to coast, we are celebrating and sharing stories of how we are weaving traditional and modern methods of growing, sharing, and preparing traditional and country food as medicine. These collective efforts highlight a vibrant and hopeful movement toward revitalizing and expanding sustainable food practices and Indigenous foodways.
Through my work with Rumie, Nourish, and Canadore College, I’ve had the gift of travelling and enjoying delicious foods from coast to coast to coast. At my home in Northern Ontario, I enjoy wild foods like moose, blueberries, and strawberries. In Quebec, I indulged in farm-fresh eggs. In Saskatchewan, I tasted Saskatoon berries for the first time. I’ve also prepared fresh salmon from Elders and Knowledge Keepers from British Columbia and farm-raised beef from Alberta, while virtually connecting with communities in Yukon, Newfoundland and Labrador. It’s been a true gift to taste these foods while experiencing the love that goes into each dish. Across all these regions, I’ve learned about a wealth of creative and inspiring programs.
It is hard to choose which stories to share, but as a Nishnawbe Que from Northern Ontario, I need to boast about our communities! Through my work with Nourish and the relationships built through the Innovator cohort, I would often visit Thunder Bay. This city has a thriving food scene, and the Indigenous community works alongside non-Indigenous led organizations and allies, such as Roots Community Food Centre, Pioneer Ridge Long Term Care, Lakehead University, and the City of Thunder Bay.
Together, they create distinctive and local approaches to food sovereignty. I learned about the importance of growing and sourcing food locally and from First Nations, creating a model of community-driven food resilience.
Sioux Lookout’s Meno Ya Win Health Centre hosts an Indigenous foodways program called Miichim, which serves locally donated traditional Indigenous foods such as rabbit, moose, and fish. The centre embodies Indigenous ways of doing, from the moment you enter and are welcomed by the smells of traditional medicines, to the visible elements of water, wind, fire, and land integrated into the environment. You can hear Indigenous navigators speaking their traditional language.
To enhance Northern Ontario’s food scene, many nearby First Nations host weekend markets where fresh food is brought in by community members and allied organizations. Many First Nation communities are exploring hydroponic growing, like Mnogin Greenhouse in my community area, of Nipissing First Nation.
Moving over to Newfoundland and Labrador, Elders and Knowledge Keepers host community freezers for community members to share and access wild game. Though there are many dated policies and laws around wild game and hunting in Canada, fortunately there are many community members working to dismantle these racist policies and find solutions to sharing and honouring traditional foodways.
At Canadore College, we embrace walking in two worlds, and recently built a large grow pod that will test hydroponic growing. We will be building frameworks for water treatment and growing to support community-voiced needs for training in these areas. We have a Harvest Room with a pulley system and plan to harvest a deer or moose. These investments create opportunities for sharing knowledge, time, and food within community, uplifting the values of collectivism and resilience.
About five years ago, I sat in a sharing circle with first-year students from the Northern Ontario School of Medicine to explore the concept of food as medicine. I said: “When you become doctors, you’ll be prescribing medicine.” They agreed that this was accurate. Then I asked, “What if you could prescribe a basket of fresh blueberries as medicine?” You know that “aha” moment when everything just starts to make sense? I could see that moment and the concept of Two-Eyed Seeing and walking in two worlds coming to life in that circle.
We need to broaden our understanding and reimagine (or reimage) what medicine should be. It’s not just about medications. It includes nourishing foods like Saskatoon berries, wild strawberries, freshly picked blueberries, fiddleheads, root vegetables, fresh eggs, moose, rabbit, venison and so much more. Medicines that nourish the body, mind and spirit.
In understanding Indigenous foodways as a reflection of the past, but as an integral part of our present and shared future, we open pathways to reshaping the very foundations of how we grow, source, and connect. In turn, this approach creates food systems rooted in sustainability, reciprocity, and respect for the land, water, and its stewards.
