After living in Guinea for nearly seven years and watching Alseny’s family and our neighbors prepare meals day in and day out, I took for granted just how different their culinary traditions are from those in the West.
I captured this photo of Alseny’s nieces as they prepared the early evening meal to break the fast during Ramadan. At the time, I didn’t fully consider the cultural significance woven into this simple, yet powerful moment, but reflecting on it now—through the lens of WACAI’s Foodie February series—I see how these everyday practices reflect the deeper cultural roots that shape a community.
One striking difference is the division of labor. In Guinea, cooking is exclusively the domain of women. When Alseny has returned to visit, he’s attempted to share the culinary skills he developed stateside, only to be shooed “out of the kitchen.” When I say “out of the kitchen,” I mean it figuratively—because, unlike in the West, most Guinean households cook outdoors. The hot climate and widespread use of charcoal stoves make indoor cooking impractical, so food preparation takes place in shared spaces, alongside neighbors, where greetings and conversation flow as freely as the cooking. This communal aspect fosters a sense of connection and camaraderie, a stark contrast to the often solitary experience of cooking in enclosed Western kitchens.
Cooking in Guinea is not just a household responsibility—it’s a daily, community-centered event. Unlike in the US, where families stock up on groceries for the week and store leftovers for days, Guineans shop daily at open-air markets, purchasing fresh ingredients for a single meal—typically a rice dish with sauce—that is consumed in its entirety the same day. Multi-generational households are the norm, often housing three generations under one roof, so there are always many mouths to feed.
On the rare occasion that rice and sauce remain, they are repurposed for breakfast and given a special name in Susu: bande xita, meaning “the rice that slept overnight.” Because Guinea’s electrical grid is unreliable, refrigeration isn’t always an option. Instead, bande xita is reheated over hot coals for an extended period, not only ensuring food safety but also creating a prized culinary phenomenon known as lugari. This crispy, caramelized layer of sauce-coated rice at the bottom of the pot is a beloved texture unique to the process of time and temperature working their magic.
In Guinea, food preparation is more than just a daily necessity—it is a deeply rooted community tradition that fosters connection and solidarity. It serves as a grassroots institution where women, especially family members, neighbors, and vendors, build and strengthen relationships. Neighbors share cookware, collaborate on labor-intensive tasks and pool resources to take advantage of bulk pricing. It is also common to exchange plates of food as a gesture of generosity and goodwill. Meanwhile, food vendors cultivate personal relationships with their clients, engaging in lively conversation and rewarding loyalty with the best products and prices. Beyond physical nourishment, food preparation in Guinea is a powerful force that strengthens social ties and builds community connections.