By Johnny Coomansingh
My training in ‘Hotel, Restaurant, Institution Management and Dietetics,’ at the College of Human Ecology, Kansas State University, involved a few courses concerning food preparation, food safety, and food-borne illness. Regarding food safety, I had to study, sit and pass an examination to qualify for the ServSafe certification administered by the National Restaurant Association. Without the ServSafe certification, I could not graduate from the course.
Although I knew quite a few food safety topics, having taught Health Science and Human and Social Biology at the high school level, there were elements in the food safety coursework that I had to learn and apply in practice. Hazard Analysis and Critical Control Points (HACCP) was one such area. The coursework covered crucial topics like foodborne illness prevention, personal hygiene, and cross-contamination.
From what I have witnessed at several American universities, I could testify that nine out of ten young men who used the loo and urinal (toilet) would leave the room without washing their hands. A senior professor also did not wash his hands after using the loo. Meeting me in the foyer thereafter, he stretched out his hand for a handshake. I dodged that one. I thought about the transmission of diseases such as Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus
(MRSA). MRSA is a type of staph bacteria that is highly resistant to many common antibiotics, making it notoriously difficult to treat. I also know that MRSA is on practically every doorknob in public places.
In the food safety aspect of the course, the washing of hands was a primary and extremely important topic. Many young students, while attending school in the United States, work part-time in restaurants, pubs and diners in the area where their universities are located. Sometimes I wonder about their obligation to wash their hands after using the toilet. I have seen, almost at every food service establishment, the signs: ‘Please Wash Your Hands Before Returning to Work’ or ‘Wash Hands After Use.’ There are constant reminders because germs travel.
During the coursework, participation in the washing of hands was compulsory. We were told to go wash our hands with the hottest water we could bear and use sufficient soap. When we thought that we really did a good job, our hands were sprayed with a substance that became luminous under ultraviolet light in the darkened classroom. It was unimaginable that some hands and fingernails were still quite dirty.
It’s possible that some parents in the United States do not insist that their children should practice good hygiene that includes hand washing. Hand washing was a critical element that we had to understand and practice. To digress a bit, one of the professors had a computer keyboard that was so dirty I could have planted a few roots of tomatoes in the manure it collected. I wondered, why was this professor so nasty? Could she not clean the keyboard?
There are other practices that are habitual. Some restaurant workers don’t even know that what they are doing is wrong; it’s part of their culture. I was hanging out with my nephews in Kansas. It was about two o’clock in the morning during the summer. We decided to visit a food establishment for a bite. And there she was, a pretty young woman rolling silverware in paper napkins. She was using the saliva from her mouth at the tip of her finger to pick up the napkins. In my book, that was not good at all; unhealthy! She must have rolled probably 100. I called for the manager to witness what was happening. I said to her: “Look at what’s happening here.” The manager could not figure out what I was trying to show her. She was like a deer in the headlights. Then she exclaimed, “O my God!” If you go to a diner and you see this type of activity, please raise an alarm.
In my hometown, Sangre Grande, Trinidad, I bought a $50 box of fried chicken and chips. This amount was enough to share for two. My good friend ate his down to the bone, but I hesitated. Why? My chicken did not smell so good. It was putrid! Rotten! I took it back to the store and asked for a refund. The manager immediately refunded me my money…no questions asked. Since then I have never patronised that chicken and chips place. The next day, my good friend spent a good part of his 24 hours in the toilet. He contracted foodborne illness. I didn’t. It could be that my nose has some powerful smell cells. If it smells bad, don’t eat it!
It’s really sad when you set out to have a good meal, and while eating, human hair interferes with your chewing ability. This situation happened to me in Store Bay, Tobago. I love Tobago. I love the people of Tobago, but people who cook and sell food must be careful about how the food is prepared. I felt uncomfortable. I did not make a fuss but discontinued eating the meal. My better sense told me to stay calm and go speak to the vendor. Quietly, I called her aside and explained to her my situation. I suggested that she should be more careful. Each prep cook, chef and server should wear head coverings to at least prevent hair from getting into the food.
In an all-expenses-paid trip to Venezuela that I won in a slogan contest, I was stunned when I sat down to eat at a Venezuelan diner. I chose broasted chicken and yucca (cassava) chips. I thought that this would have been a nice change from the typical fried chicken and potato chips that I was used to. I paid a few Bolivars for my meal that came quickly. Lo and behold, the waiter who was bringing my food was picking his nose! Egads! His fingernails were unkempt and dirty, really dirty. His ‘white’ shirt was not white and the shirt collar was black with what seemed like muck. That shirt was probably not laundered for weeks! I told him that I was no longer hungry and that I wanted a refund. He called for the manager. The manager understood my predicament and returned my money. I saw many people happily enjoying their food, but seeing what I saw turned my stomach.
Many moons ago, I used to be a high school teacher. Our school always gave a half day off on Fridays. As my custom was, I would dine at the Oriental Restaurant (now defunct) in Sangre Grande, a little after 12 noon. On this day, I ordered stewed chicken, fried rice and chow mien. The food came, and I proceeded to eat. I had no idea that I was eating a few pieces of big shrimp that came with the stew chicken. After consuming the meal, the cook, who was a family friend, related to me that he had put some shrimp in the chicken stew as a ‘special.’ I ate something that I knew nothing about because I was never in the habit of consuming shrimp.
The next morning, I woke up passing an unpleasant type of gas. I should have been included in the Guinness Book of Records for passing the most gas in one hour, 180 times! Next thing I knew, I was headed for the toilet. For that day, I visited that room a total of 18 times. My system was responding to a bad case of food-borne illness. Even though I drank all kinds of teas, bush medicine and over-the-counter medications, the problem went on for over a month. It was not until I found myself in Tobago that I saw some relief.
On my journey to Tobago, I had sailed the night before to Scarborough. No sleep, but nothing happened on the boat. When I disembarked, my stomach grumbled and appealed to me to get somewhere to expel whatever. I hastened to catch the bus and asked the conductor if he knew the person living at the given address. He answered in the affirmative and dropped me off a few paces from the required destination. At this ‘ungodly’ hour, my stomach was going into overdrive toward the point of expulsion.
The lady who came out to meet me showed me the latrine; thanks heavens! When I emerged from the little ramshackle outhouse, astonishingly, she asked me: “Son, what happen tuh yuh?” I replied, “I don’t know” and explained to her what was going on with me. First thing in the morning, I had to drink a large cup of tea for nine days. This Spiritual Baptist lady gave to me a bush medicine concoction. The tea was black. It didn’t taste too good but it worked; my ailment departed. She did not tell me about the composition of the tea. I trusted her and I drank every drop. I was clinging to a straw to feel better. I suspected that some form of charcoal was used with some added herbs. This is an experience that I will never forget.
In Jamaica, while I was studying at the Caribbean Institute of Mass Communication (CARIMAC), Mona Campus, University of the West Indies, I fell sick once more with food- borne illness. It’s possible that a Jamaican patty did me in. This time there were several symptoms, including vomiting, fever and diarrhoea. I was helpless. Thank heavens there was a young woman present in the home where I stayed who assisted me while I was ill. With the help of several glasses of fresh coconut water, fresh orange juice and small meals, I was able to recover in record time. Although they taste good, because of this episode, I came to develop a deep respect for Jamaican patties.
My experiences with food preparation, food safety issues, personal hygiene and food-borne illness have been briefly described here. Some of it is probably jocular, but it’s still a cause for concern. Nevertheless, for all who would read this article, please endeavour to be wary about what you eat, who prepares the food, and where you eat. Sometimes people are not aware that they need to address their level of personal hygiene regarding food preparation and food service. Do not throw caution to the wind. Good food will smell good and taste good. Good food will not have parts of other humans in the dish. A word to the wise is sufficient. As we say in Trinidad: “Drunk or sober, mind your business,” especially with food.