TAUSUG IN DOHA | Our Dirty Kitchen: A Taste of Life, Memory, and Home

DOHA, Qatar (MindaNews / 21 June 2026) — Food itself — even its aroma and taste — evokes memories: memories of the sweet, sour, salty, bitter, and umami moments and people who have shaped our lives. Every food has a story to tell — to reminisce, to celebrate! 

I grew up in an environment where our weekdays and weekends alike were closely tied to our dirty kitchen — a place where we prepared and cooked various foods and native delicacies to be sold outside our home when the horizon was still sleeping, and at the school canteen when the sun was already widely awake. It was our elders’ way of earning Halāl income to support our family’s needs— most especially my cherished Ina’. 

Not so obvious, isn’t it, how we were so clingy to our dirty kitchen, and how well she was to us. We always spent precious time with each other because, before sunset and before the stars and moon would glisten in the dark sky, we were still spending time in our dirty kitchen, because in order to lessen the workload of the following day, some ingredients had to be prepared in advance.

That is why, Alhamdu Lillâh, I am always grateful and humbled that I grew up knowing how to prepare and cook most of our native dishes and confectioneries. Cooking was not merely a skill that I acquired from my beloved elders— it was an invaluable piece of the puzzle that formed my childhood in my beloved Sulu.

When I left my hometown to pursue my college education and eventually work, I still carried with me — in my mind, heart, and soul — the memories of that dirty kitchen that helped mold me into the person I am today. 

Even in diaspora, whenever I prepare and cook dishes that I learned from my grandmothers as well as from my Ina’, it feels as though they are still beside me, standing in that same kitchen. Their gentle voices echo in my mind, telling me how happy they are that I continue to revive the food that preserves our shared memories in that humble dirty kitchen.

Every native dish I cook that is connected to them is so special to me. Each one comforts my heart, reminds me of them, and makes me feel at home, even when I am miles and miles away from home.

Today, my college friend who has become like a sibling to me—Aljay, a Medical Technologist by profession, fellow OFW, and flatmate  –cooked Pansit and Biyungkus (Fried chicken). Together with some college friends, Ibs, Racken, Drax and Faieh, who have likewise become siblings, we gathered and shared the meal.

As I took my first bite of the Pansit, I remarked:

“Biya’ da aku sin naka hagdir graduation celebration ha Sug sin bata’-bata’ pa aku ha nanam sin Pansit ini.”

(“This Pansit tastes as though I have attended a graduation celebration in Sulu during my childhood days.”)

At that very moment, I was transported back to those precious days in Sulu during graduation season. It is a tradition in Sulu that whenever a child graduates —whether from kindergarten, elementary school, high school, or even college—families would celebrate the occasion with gratitude and joy —  “Magpajamu” in our local language. 

“Misan way kahawa sukal, way panggi’ makuhal”, even when resources were scarce, and even when the sea was at low tide, Tausūgs always found a way— “languyun in hunasan.” Celebrations across Sulu were almost always held—simple yet dignified and meaningful.

“Kakampungan, kabagayan, pangdaig-bay.” Visitors—mostly relatives, friends, and neighbors—would gather to share a simple meal. Even if the food consisted only of Biyungkus, Pansit, sliced bread, wadjit, and juice, it was offered wholeheartedly to every valued attendee. Of course, Pansit, in particular, always graced these celebrations—just as it graced our gathering today and awakened my sleeping memories of those cherished days.

I remember my cousin, Kier Tulawie, who is also an OFW, during one of our Iftār in Ramadhān. When he tasted one of the native dishes that I personally cooked, he said, “kiyatumtuman ku isab hi Ama’ ku yadtu ha pagkaun ini sabab katagihan niya tuud ini.” (“I suddenly remembered my beloved late Ama’ because of this food, for he truly loved it.”)

Of course, above all, Pansit reminds me of someone so special to me, hailed from Capual, Omar, Sulu—my beloved and cherished wife—for she loves to pair and savor Pansit together with Tiyula’ Sūg. How unique it is!

Forsooth, food does not merely nourish the body; it also nourishes the heart and soul. It carries sad and painful, as well as happy and beautiful stories; bears witness to the constantly changing weathers of life; preserves vibrant traditions; and keeps alive the voices of those loved ones who have already departed before us from this world—Innā Lillâhi wa Innā Ilayhi Rāji‘ūn. 

A single aroma that smiles upon our nose, a familiar flavor that laughs at our taste buds, or a treasured recipe that stays in our mind and heart can bridge years and miles, allowing us to revisit moments that time can never reclaim.

This is only from among the many priceless gifts that Allâh has bestowed upon us, and we must all be grateful to Him! Through His infinite wisdom and mercy, He has made food not only a means of sustenance but also a vessel of memory—one that evokes the taste of life itself, a taste that time can never erase. Alhamdu Lillâhi Rabbil Ālamīn.

(MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. Gamson Jr Mawallil Quijano of Sulu is a registered Radiologic Technologist who works in Doha, Qatar.)