PukhtunWomen

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Seeing smoke rise from a small stone and mud building some distance from the road, I asked the driver to stop and see if it was a gannai ( an old non mechanized sugar mill). The driver looked at me to make sure I wasn't kidding, I could see the thoughts running through his mind. He says "Bibi...." But I cut him short, I dont care what the minister thinks, please do as I tell you" He again says "Bibi, it is getting dark and the Charsadda roads are not safe." I snap at him " If you hurry we would not have to wait for too long and can cross Charsadda before it is dark" He is not happy but complies.

The nip in the late afternoon air carries a hint of winter, but I don't mind as I watch the driver make his way towards the rising smoke. It has been a dry and sunny day, a perfect day to make Gwara, but what I want is the crispy toffee like chirr that sticks jaws together. Memories of my childhood come flooding me and I start humming an old childhood rhyme.

We were considered affluent because Dada had his own Gannai, and every year Babo would get together her coconut peices, peanuts, walnuts and black pepper so we the children could have a batch of misaldara. How we waited for those sweet round balls and would boastfully pull out the coconut and nuts to show that Babo loved us more and had given us a piece with extra nuts and coconuts.

We would wrap up the piece in doday or get some moolay to eat with it, anything to make it last as long as possible, making sure we didn't loose a single crumb. The soft rays of the winter sun and the taste of that gwara is an experience I have not been able to match with anything else.

With the kind permission of Matt and Rowena

It would start out with the men going out to the field to cut the bamboo like sugarcane, there would be laughter and songs as they worked a long day. Piling up the sugar cane neatly and bringing it to the simple two roller press was something we looked forward to every year. We would sit a distance away, because we didn't want to give Dada an excuse to chase us away saying we were getting underfoot. We would chew on the long sticks of sugar cane till our jaws ached and our mouths and gums were sore from all that sugar and our hands and faces sticky but we never gave them occasion to send us home.

With the kind permission of Matt and Rowena

A mule or donkey and on occasion oxen were used to make the rollers press the juice out of the sugar cane, which would collect in a large vat from where it would trickle into a giant iron pan that would be scored to remove the rust from the last season.

With the kind permission of Matt and Rowena

A fire that was started early on in the day would heat the iron pan and as the sweet liquid thickened, and started to bubble we would eagerly watch while our mouths watered. The steam rising from the hot bubbles would be so thick we would not be able to see anyone standing across the room from us. The leaves and pressed baggasse would be burnt too, to keep the fire going full blast. If so much as a lone cloud would appear we would watch it anxiously because the slightest humidity would prevent the hot boiling juice from coagulating into the solid sugar we needed for the whole year.

With the kind permission of Matt and Rowena

Any impurities that rose to the surface would be skimmed off and just before the liquid was transferred to the clay cooling pan, this pan was made up of four pieces put together. Every season the peices would be inspected to see whether they would suffice or new ones were needed, and more often than not they were. The local potter would be bribed into making new ones with a promise of an amount of the brown sugar.kaka the keeper of the gannai would dip in a stick of sugarcane into it and we would avidly watch to see if it congealed into the toffee we so badly had waited for all year. He would then pass the stick onto us and we would greedily break off pieces to pop into our mouths.

With the kind permission of Matt and Rowena

When the liquid cooled, it was rolled into balls and this is the point that the nuts that Babo had given would be added and these balls would be set aside in a big basket that was only used for this occasion and Dada would proudly have this sent home for Babos inspection. No one could touch it till Babo tasted it and then gave us a piece each. The rest was rolled into balls and burlap sacks filled with it.

With the kind permission of Matt and Rowena

Babo would distribute it to Dada's sisters and send some to her daughters houses and the rest she would put under lock and key and give us some when she saw fit. How she managed to make it last till the next season I will never know.
We would spend the long winter nights nibblling on a ball of brown sugar after the misaldara was gone and listen to stories long into the night.

With the kind permission of Matt and Rowena

White sugar having replaced gwara in most of our recipes has made a giant drop in the demand of Gwara. The Gannai are fast disappearing and only a few are found, since the yield to work ratio does not justify the expense and most sugarcane farmers now sell to the big sugar mills that will make white refined sugar out of it.

With the kind permission of Matt and Rowena

I watch the driver return with some twenty sticks of sugar cane coated with chirr and a cloth bag of gwara. My mouth is already watering. Tonight I will have gwari chay and enjoy my chirr.