The caving in and the crawling out: creating intergenerational vernacular food literacies

ABSTRACT

Competing ideologies of literacy are well documented in the literature, articulating the gap between everyday literacies in people’s lives and formalised literacy norms. Despite this recognition of literacy as ‘situated’, the gap in perceptions across generations regarding knowledge content and learning forms remains underexplored. This article attempts to bridge this gap by investigating the effects of intergenerational learning on indigenous farming communities in western India from a vernacular food literacy and agricultural perspective. Examining what social meanings are ascribed to literacy using a qualitative case study, it investigates the value attached to different knowledges across the generations. Problematising literacy, it explores what knowledge is considered valid and worth preserving for sustainable development. The author argues that intergenerational knowledge and everyday literacy practices contest the hierarchies of learning and call for an urgent reconstruction of literacy from a vernacular food perspective.

KEYWORDS:

• Intergenerational
• indigenous
• farming
• India
• vernacular
• literacy

Introduction

Angathachaap ahe mein! Apalyala doun akade yet nahi. Kagadavar angtha lawatey. Anghtaachaappp [original emphasis]!

(I am illiterate! I do not know two numbers. I use a thumbprint on paper. Illiterate!)

An elderly grandmother, Gangubai, repeatedly referred to herself as ‘Angathachaap’, meaning illiterate, the implication being that she is stupid. Gangubai is a successful entrepreneur and runs a thriving ecotourism business which consists of organising and conducting seasonal food festivals in the picturesque village of Kakadwadi, at the foothills of the Kalsubai mountain in western India. Her primary role is facilitating the live cooking demonstrations, sharing traditional indigenous recipes with huge crowds, usually highly educated, urban, middle-class people wanting to learn about indigenous delicacies, often with a commitment to sustainable health and the environment. The 71-year-old grandmother from a farming community perceives herself as uneducated and has low self-esteem, complaining that she does not know anything besides cooking, caring and domestic work. The quote was chosen as it captures the notion of ‘caving in’ to powerful age norms (shaped by gender, life course, and socio-cultural norms). The successful business she runs with her family within a rapidly changing livelihood context is broadly conceptualised as the ‘crawling out’, representing the newly created food practices and hence acquired knowledge by both generations, asserting their gradual agency while resisting and discarding the unwarranted.

Farming, a largely inherited occupation characteristic of the intergenerational succession of farmland and agriculture skills and knowledge, has brought back the focus on family structure (in this case, a patrilineal culture with a patrilocal residence pattern) and its role in achieving sustainable development goals. From a literacy practice perspective, intergenerational literacy learning in non-formal spaces has been a crucial part of these traditional agricultural communities in India. However, at a policy level, there remains a tendency to promote standardised, formal learning about agriculture and food or a narrow focus on technical knowledge and skills – for example, the public agricultural extension system in India, which the State Department of Agriculture represents. ‘Extension’ is a non-formal education by specialists teaching technical skills and knowledge, which is often extended in rural contexts to improve livelihoods. It has long been associated with the agriculture sector in many countries worldwide. The State Agricultural Universities (SAUs) are part of this frontline extension system in India, in addition to the Indian Council of Agricultural Research (ICAR). There remain several limitations of the agricultural extension system, including the emphasis on technical aspects of agricultural knowledge, or farm mechanisation, which remain out of the scope of this article. However, food literacy- from an agriculture extension education system in India has yet to receive much attention; this study aims to bridge this research gap.

The example of Gangubai raises questions about the role of informal literacy and its implications for sustainable development. It challenges the often reductive, deficit models (Crowther and Tett 2011) of what it means to be literate, the value placed on institutionalised, standardised literacy learning, and the internalised discourses of formal literacy.

The challenge of learning hierarchies is intertwined with the focus on literacies, highlighting the informal learning that occurs as part of everyday life (Rogers 2014). A huge body of literature studies the pluralities of literacies, including family literacy. This paper contributes to this body of research. From an intergenerational and family literacy approach, it investigates how informal knowledge is brokered across generations.

In this case study, both generations of indigenous farmers perceived value in formal education while recognising the informal knowledge underpinning their lives. For this paper, I use food literacy as a metaphor for knowledge. The coexistence of informal food literacy is conceptualised as knowing about food and is analysed through the lens of literacy as a social practice, acknowledging the relationships between power, culture, and identity. Food literacy in this paper is not restricted to reading and writing about food and nutrition alone but includes multiple forms of context-driven knowing about food and food behaviours.

This paper reports on a qualitative case study from India. The paper offers a nuanced exploration of the intimate food practices of two generations of indigenous farmers in western India and investigates what constitutes food literacy. At a conceptual level, unpacking food literacy, this research echoes the push towards legitimising informal literacy, particularly vernacular food literacy and intergenerational learning. Drawing on Rogers (2014) work on informal literacy, the paper addresses the following research questions:

1. What is being learned in unintentional informal learning in the agricultural context?

2. How is it being learned by young and older generations of farmers?

3. What are some implications for formal agriculture and sustainable food system programmes?

Everyday literacies matter

In this paper, rather than viewing literacy narrowly in terms of individual reading and writing skills, particularly food-related reading and writing skills, I take a social practice approach towards literacy. Drawing on Literacy as a Social Practice (LSP) and ‘situated’ literacies (Acharya and Robinson-Pant 2019; Barton, Hamilton, and Ivanic 2000; Street and Street 1984), I argue that conflation of food literacy and agricultural education within agricultural institutions (or place-based schooling) is a form of sustaining the dominant discourse of formal education. In analysing the intergenerational everyday family food practices, I use Street’s (1984) distinction between autonomous-individual skill-focused schooled literacy and ideological models of literacy that conceptualise literacy as social activity shaped by culture, power, and identity relationships.

The development of literacy and the modern everyday literacies in India is shaped by its colonial past. Smith (2021, 35) notes how the West defined countries like India, China and Japan as ‘uncivilised’. The very countries that ‘were literate cultures prior to their “discovery” by the West’ were not recognised as such; their ‘literacy did not count as a record of legitimate knowledge’. Smith (2021, 73) goes on to argue that for many nations, the development of public education is rooted in the history of colonialism. Schools provided colonial education, which played a vital role in the ‘denial of indigenous languages, knowledges and cultures’. A second significant role of colonial education was to create ‘indigenous elites’. For example, the British Raj imposed colonial education systems focused on memorising (rote learning) and reproducing numeracy to fulfil the local colonial need for account keeping. Colonisers thus produced Babus, aka bureaucrats, and this legacy remains deeply embedded in the minds of communities. Drawing on policy research around elementary education in Southern India, Mukhopadhyay and Sriprakash (2011) conclude that ‘borrowed’ education policies are not always reproduced or sustained in local contexts. Instead, they are subject to a context-dependent translation process enacted by various actors. Their research highlights the state of rendering the vernacular invisible in the modern, standardised, homogenised, universal education model. The same could be said of the agricultural extension models, rendering the vernacular invisible by focusing on standardised extension models.

How do we navigate the less valuable knowledge (the informal everyday literacies) against the colonially shaped, formalised education? By focusing on the context-dependent translation process of ‘borrowed’ education, in this case, the informal learning from food literacy practices. In the 1970s, Allen Tough proposed the metaphor of the iceberg to describe adult informal learning. The same metaphor applied by practice theorists Spurling et al. (2013) is used in the context of sociological analysis of food practices. MacDonald, Murphy, and Elliott (2018, 781) refer to ‘practice as an Iceberg’, citing Schatzki (1996) and Maller (2015) on ‘practice as an entity’ – a set of interrelated elements, ‘practice as a performance’ – in relation to performing that practice or act in that timely moment. From a food practices perspective, MacDonald, Murphy, and Elliott (2018) report that the most visible of food practices is the tip of the iceberg – identified as ‘practice as a performance’. They highlight the value of exploring interactions between multiple food practices or ‘bundles of practices’ to understand changing food practices. This paper examines the submerged practices, learnt, lived, and enacted outside schools or institutions.

Food literacy: a call to social practice approach

Increasingly applied in research, policy and practice, the concept of food literacy is still evolving. It has been broadly conceptualised based on notions of nutritional knowledge on acquiring, assessing food, food preparation and the applicability of that knowledge for improving health and wellbeing (Poelman et al. 2018). Although studies generally distinguish between nutrition literacy and food literacy (Krause and Sommerhalder 2016; Velardo 2015).

Based on a systematic review of nutrition literacy and food literacy definitions, Krause and Sommerhaller (2016, 378) conclude that nutritional literacy includes the ‘abilities necessary to obtain and understand nutrition information’ while food literacy is a comprehensive ‘spectrum of theoretical and practical knowledge and skills’. They further explain that being food literate also involves the ability to apply information to food choices and ‘critically reflect on the effect of food choice on personal health and society’ (Krause and Sommerhalder 2016, 378). They suggest that nutrition literacy should be conceptualised as a subset of food literacy. This definition of food literacy involves knowledge situated in social contexts rather than focusing on texts and relying on individuals’ food-related reading and writing skills.

Although most food literacy research is focused on formal literacy, text-based domains with an emphasis on food labels, dietary behavioural programmes, portion sizes or calorie counts, there are some notable exceptions. Through a systematic literature review, Truman and Elliot (2019, 110) investigate the barriers to food literacy proficiency and propose a conceptual model that emphasises the relationship between nutrition education and health-related outcomes. Their results show that 66% of barriers to food literacy proficiency are environmental barriers (the socio-cultural context). They call for more research on ‘socio-cultural topics related to food that examine its meaning and value in everyday life, such as the symbolic functions of foods’ (Truman and Elliott 2019, 110).

In a systematic scoping review of the use, reach, and definition of the term food literacy in academia, authors Thompson et al. (2021, 5), report that the ‘first study’ on food literacy was published in the US in 1998. English-speaking countries dominated research output in this area until 2007 when an article on food literacy was published in Italy. The earliest article with a first author based in a low – middle-income country came from Nigeria in 2011. During the following seven years, there were no further works from the first authors based in low and middle-income countries (LMICs), highlighting the geographical discrepancies in academic publishing and the need to conduct food literacy research in LMICs. My study addresses this gap on two levels; the study is conducted in India, and I am an Indian researcher.

In this study, I use a definition of food literacy that emphasises everyday learning from food practicalities (Gartaula et al. 2020) through skills, knowledge, and texts, including reading and writing behaviour. The definition also includes sharing information and interaction with others, both relevant to this paper:

Food literacy is the scaffolding that empowers individuals, households, communities, or nations to protect diet quality through change and strengthen dietary resilience over time. It comprises a collection of interrelated knowledge, skills and behaviours required to plan, manage, select, prepare, and eat food to meet needs and determine intake (Vidgen and Gallegos 2014, 54).

Conceptual starting points

Literacy as a means of valuing indigenous knowledge

This study is underpinned by an emancipatory food approach, focusing on lived experiences of indigenous food practices, exploring what meanings and relational value are attached to these practices, with a particular emphasis on intergenerational knowledge exchange and its implication for literacy learning.

Western academic tradition is often critiqued for its enduring text-centrism; in other words, valuing the written text over oral knowledge. It is a discourse that, through colonisation, was embedded within ‘institutions, vocabulary, scholarship, imagery, doctrines, colonial bureaucracy, and colonial styles’ (Said 2014, 2). Smith (2021, 22) speaks of the ‘negation of Indigenous view of history’, including their food cultures, arguing that ‘Indigenous language, knowledge and cultures have been silenced or misrepresented, ridiculed, or condemned in academic and popular discourses’. This further leads to the need to ‘defend and prove authenticity for their own knowledge’ (Smith 2021, 120).

Similarly, in terms of learning hierarchies, education, as colonialism, has always valued the written form over oral knowledge exchange practices (Smith 2021, 53). The indigenous pedagogical conventions shaping oral traditions across the globe, such as ‘oracy’, ‘debate’, and ‘structured silences’ (Smith 2021, 15), have been invisible.

Often the use of a formal and institutional system based learned renders the informal knowledge invisible while simultaneously shifting the onus on the learner to comprehend and interpret the information. Language use is critical in this regard. In India, indigenous children’s schools often use English to teach numeracy and literacy. Robinson-Pant (2020) shows how a bright indigenous Nepali young girl’s struggle upon moving to a school where English is the medium of instruction involves issues of power, identity, educational aspiration, and valuing indigenous and informal knowledge in formal institutions.

Recent scholarship on the decolonisation of the curriculum highlights the value of non-textual forms of representation, acknowledging alternative ways of knowing and doing, as documented in the literature. Similarly, studies across the social sciences use photovoice, digital diaries, arts and performance methods, storytelling and various other digital ethnography research methods to investigate the social world. In food literacy, there is an urgent need to attend to the plurality of intergenerational competencies rather than focusing on traditional literacies based on the autonomous models that prioritise texts, reading and writing skills. By challenging hierarchies of learning and attending to the empowering, symbolic nature of indigenous informal knowledge, the deficit model can be replaced, promoting local autonomy instead and making emancipatory food choices.

In the changing context of livelihood opportunities and migration, this farming community uses their traditional, informal, intergenerational knowledge and expertise to run successful business ventures. Nevertheless, most indigenous entrepreneurs are not perceived as such by others, and they do not acknowledge their success. I argue that this is due to the dominance of formal education and its hierarchies of learning. I will unpack some of these questions in the next section.

Informal learning, metrics, and the symbolic value of literacy

In UNESCO’s Global Report on Adult Learning and Education (UNESCO 2009, 27), informal learning is defined as resulting ‘from daily life activities related to work, family, or leisure. It is not structured (in terms of learning objectives, learning time, or learning support) and typically does not lead to certification. Informal learning may be intentional, but, in most cases, it is non-intentional (or incidental/random)’. In the academic sphere, informal learning involves the unconscious influences of family, individuals, peers, and broader society throughout our lives, shaped by common interests and socio-cultural norms (Rogers 2014).

The ‘unstructured’ and often seemingly random elements of learning shaped through the lived experiences of people form the core of informal learning. Crucially, informal learning is context-dependent. Rogers (2014) identifies three overlapping dimensions of informal learning, which he argues need to be conceptualised in terms of a continuum. First is self-directed learning, where success is measured by how much we have learned. Second is task-conscious learning, where success is measured by how well a task is accomplished. Third, the unintentional learning, unconscious and unplanned learning that occurs as a result of, for example, public health awareness campaigns.

Approaches to measuring literacy often fail to capture traditional knowledge, particularly in indigenous communities where people have limited or lack numeracy skills. The body of literature on informal literacies, multiple literacies, and the plurality of literacies (Robinson-Pant 2020, 2016; Rogers 2014) has raised this idea too. Informal literacy can be fluid and non-formal but structured to a local context. For example, a young woman with a mobile phone, wearing lipstick and dressed in jeans and a shirt with free-flowing hair (not braided) is perceived as educated in the village. An adult woman wearing a watch and carrying a purse or handbag signals her ability to read and write.

Similarly, young people, especially girls who have been college educated and return to the village, are perceived as over-smart, not abiding by village rules. They are subject to disapproval for wearing headphones while working on farms, listening to music and, most importantly, having affairs with boys and marrying partners of their choosing by eloping if needed when families disapprove of the suitor. Literacy is not just functional in these cases. However, it also indicates an individual’s social value in their communities, whether positive (commanding respect and status) or negative (labels or character assassination).

Another example of the symbolic value of literacy is the case of Jagan Dada (a farmer and owner of a homestay in the ecotourism business) and his teenage children. They use smartphones and the internet and are perceived by the community as tech-savvy. Community members respect him but accuse him of getting all the government-sanctioned funds because his children help him with online application forms for government schemes and loans. This extends to the entire family, perceived as intelligent, educated, competent and well respected though also envied.

Aikman’s (2002) longitudinal ethnography of the Haramkbut community in the Peruvian Amazon unpacks the poverty of formal missionary education compared to women’s knowledge (oral) and the indigenous education model. She contends that formal education that is gender-blind, mono-cultural, and mono-lingual reduces women’s agency and generally negates indigenous generational knowledge. Similarly, women in Kakadwadi often did not value their work as caretakers, farmers, and successful entrepreneurs. They struggle with low self-esteem when taken for granted by others and undervalued by themselves. Elderly men felt embarrassed about their lack of digital knowledge and the ‘proper interactions’ they had with urban clients using only a few English words. In schools, young people had to meet certain educational expectations and were regularly tested against them. Nevertheless, they have a wealth of knowledge about land and farm activities such as soil testing and quality checking, landraces, seeds, chemical fertilisers, hybrid, and genetically modified seeds, which were not measured anywhere in schools. Both generations are engaged in various food practices and livelihood-related activities referred to as ‘hidden literacies’ in the education literature (Rogers 2014). However, young and old fail to recognise these as literacy because what is valued is schooled literacy (formal education).

Drawing on Moll et al.’s (1992) ‘funds of knowledge’, ‘banks of skills’ and cultural capital, everyday food practices in this study are seen as empowering, and people’s existing knowledge and competence are used as the frame of reference. The starting point of analysis using literacy as a practice is to value the life experiences that provide significant knowledge (often unconsciously) to individuals. This informal ‘tacit’ learning is also consistent with the African idea of ‘communities of knowledge’ or ‘knowledge repositories’.

Research context and methodology

Kakadwadi is a small indigenous community at the foothills of Kalsubai, the highest peak in Western India, in the state of Maharashtra. Geographically situated within the high altitudes of Western Ghats, it has rugged terrain, waterfalls, and deep valleys, accompanied by dense forests (above 900 metres). The forests are home to a rich biodiversity of flora and fauna. With beautiful natural landscapes, Kakadwadi has become a popular ecotourism destination over the last decade. Many high-end ‘eco resorts’ and trekking and camping packages are on offer, along with ‘pilgrimage packages’, catering to a range of corporate, young, adventure-seeking, and devotional customers.

The data was collected using multiple ethnographic methods (focus group discussion, semi-structured interviews with young and older male and female farmers and participant observations) between April to December 2019. The baseline data was generated using participatory tools such as community food maps, seasonal calendars and transect walks. The community maps focused on understanding local food production patterns, government nutrition schemes, public distribution systems and food accessibility in the community. The seasonal maps captured annual patterns of food cultivation and consumption.

The study was conducted in multiple sites, including panchayat offices, schools, and homes. I primarily draw on my field notes from observations and recorded interviews that were transcribed and translated from Marathi to English. Twenty in-depth interviews were conducted with two generations of male and female farmers (16 to 85 years of age) and themed for analysis (Attride-Stirling 2001).

Discussions were had with key stakeholders, including schoolteachers, Anganwadi workers (frontline health care workers), Panchs (elected village leaders), youth groups, and multiple NGO workers who were implementing various development programmes in the village. In addition, I observed several informal group meetings involving male and female farmers, undertaking responsibilities for civic activities in the village, raising funds and contributing to street lighting, sanitation, forest conservation and irrigation activities. I also observed Ganapati Mandals (generally male members of traditional festival groups fashioned around the Hindu religion’s ten-day Elephant-God festival) meetings.

Ethical approval was secured from the University of East Anglia’s Development Ethics Committee. The name of the case study village and respondents have been changed to preserve their anonymity and maintain confidentiality.

Findings

The findings are organised into three major themes. The generational normative food practices observed in this community; the intergenerational variations in practices (the transformation in food practices over a brief period); the knowledge valued by the two generations; and its implications for literacy.

The mapping of the generational food ‘practice trajectories’ generated varied patterns of food practices, indicating ‘intersection points’ of value. MacDonald, Murphy, and Elliott (2018, 786–7) refer to these as ‘bundles of food practices’. They found that other practices, such as the parents’ work shifts, affect the notions of family, love, and care. Authors note that seemingly ‘haphazard non-structured food practices’, when examined from bundles of practice lens, reveal power structures too (MacDonald, Murphy, and Elliott 2018). Borrowing this concept, the ‘bundles of food practices’ in my study, such as choice of food, cooking methods and retaining wild green leafy vegetables for homestay customers, impacted the household’s food behaviours. Each generation took responsibility for different tasks. Young people regularly made trips to the forest in the mountain to fetch wild roots and tubers, leafy vegetables, and fruits. While older women prepared the Jaate (traditional stone flour grinders), pata-varvanta or patan (grindstone) and chule (traditional firewood mud stoves), the men went out to fetch water for their customers. After the elaborate and time-consuming food recipes were served to clients, the host family ate the leftovers or something effortless to cook on a gas stove.

Caving in: the generational normative practices

A key phenomenon in the village was the ‘intergenerational blame game’. While the elderly generation was not confident of their knowledge and dismissed it (Gangubai’s example at the start of the article), the younger generation was constantly ridiculed for their lower grades in school. The generational normative practices emerged in strong patterns for both food culture and agricultural skills and knowledge.

The older adults I interviewed were tough on the young people in their households. They complained that the younger generation is ‘Kayam chi ATKT war jaganari manase’, meaning people who perpetually live off resitting their exams. The value attached to formal literacies is so internalised that older generation members place it at the top of the learning hierarchy. The younger generation was also criticised for indulging in leisure and entertainment, being sensitive to heat and tough physical work (in farms). Most elderly respondents were dismissive of young people, and much of their narrative seemed to be built on the deficit model. However, on self-reflection, quite a few elders shared the loss of autonomy that they felt and the dependency on the younger generation in the new digital environment: ‘We have lost control. Gone are our days. These young people think we are stupid; anyway, we must rely on them for everything.’ (65-year-old, female).

The younger generation, mainly males, were confrontational when asked about their participation in the household and community:

We must listen to stupid elders in our village. We do not have a voice, and nobody listens to our ideas on new business plans, water conservation, choices of seeds, ecotourism ideas on promotion through the internet. Even when something such as streetlights is discussed in our gram panchayat (village council) meeting, only elders talk, and we must keep our mouths shut (25-year-old, male).

There are spaces of marginalisation, particularly for young girls. In a dominant patriarchal society, these young girls have shown some agency in their silences and shadows. The youth in some farming families show that agriculture is integrated into their lives. They retain an interest in farming while also searching for complementary sources of income (for example, beauty parlours for girls). Girls as young as sixteen knew about landraces and were familiar with farming activities such as ploughing techniques, sowing, and soil testing. They were knowledgeable about the various seeds, including the different hybrid seeds. They knew about the chemical fertilisers, water conservation techniques and seasonality and the wider agroecology of their mountainous farmlands. Parents take young girls to the fields; consequently, they are engaged in observing and learning from an early age. The girls also reported that being a farming community, they ‘live, talk, eat and speak farming’. Most girls shared that they would hear their grandparents or parents speak about specific landraces and seeds in their everyday life. Even among friends, discussing what seeds their families use for a particular cropping season is common. Despite this knowledge, the girls had internalised dominant literacy norms and perceived their knowledge as having little value; it was something they just knew and not a big deal. As a 20-year-old female shared, ‘Tyaat kay vishesh ho, te mahit hotach. Amhi shetkari ahot. Pan abhyaasat mark padat nahi na’ (There is nothing special about it, we obviously learn about those things. We are farmers! However, we do not perform well in school).

The young girls felt embarrassed that they did not perform well at school, again internalising the institutional standardised literacy tests. Their informal knowledge was taken for granted by virtue of being born into a farming family. Moreover, gender norms also tended to shape their perceptions. In a group discussion in the same village, the girls spoke candidly about their marriage aspirations. Ultimately, the male members would bear responsibility for farming; hence, ‘he is the one who should know about farming, or at least that is what matters’ shares a young woman.

Various religious and agriculture-related festivals celebrate this kind of everyday knowledge. For example, a young girl shared that Sankranti (a Hindu festival dedicated to the Sun God, celebrated in many parts of India) marks the end of sowing in the agricultural cycle. Teele che Ladoo (sesame seeds and jaggery sweet delicacy, small round balls) are traditionally prepared for Sankranti. This recipe symbolises living in peace and embracing the collective community ethos in farming communities. Using this example, she suggested that she had not learnt this at school, nor the recipe for making Ladoo was written down anywhere. The gendered segregation of agricultural knowledge has been well documented in the literature; however, it is not often ‘reported’ and ‘valued’ as knowledge (Aikman 2002) as one young interviewee said, ‘Aai, aaji la bhagun yetey sagale. Kai bhari nahi lai tyaat.’ (We learn from observing our mothers and grandmothers. It is not something of excellent value, though). The ‘bundles of food practices’ were gendered and adhered to social norms to a certain degree.

Crawling out: the variations in generational practices

Both generations were engaged in transforming indigenous practices. This section presents examples of such transformations over time to understand the intended and unintended consequences, the reasons behind the changes, and their impact on informal literacy.

An example of a relatively new festival is the Ranbhaji Mahotsav (wild foods festival), an annual event organised in this village for the last five years. It consists of live demonstrations of traditional indigenous forest food recipes. Tubers, wild fruits and berries, and leafy greens from the forests are displayed, detailing the possible health and medicinal benefits to a predominantly urban audience. ‘Tourists can take pictures, sample these fruits and greens, all in exchange for generally very small amounts of money’, shared one of the organisers. This festival is an example of intergenerational food literacy in which the young can learn about traditional foods and the old benefit from the younger generation’s knowledge about marketing and digital technology.

The changing context that has provided new livelihood opportunities has also brought unintended consequences for the community. Participants complained about addiction to drinking, plastic pollution, and cultural changes. The young and older generations expressed concerns that tourists and customers were causing plastic pollution in their mountains and forests. The older generation particularly objected to drunk dancing, shouting and loud music that now takes place on the mountain peak that is home to their local deity, finding it disrespectful to their devotional and cultural beliefs.

Similarly, the youth in Kakadwadi are in the process of reinterpreting and revising cultural knowledge and norms. For example, ‘Erjuk’, a traditional agriculture practice in this indigenous village signifying the end of the harvesting period, was an exclusively male social event, organised mostly at night on a farm with plenty of vegetarian food and singing. In essence, it was a seasonal celebration of having completed a cropping cycle and an opportunity to express gratitude to fellow farmers who have collectively helped each other. Young farmers have repurposed and reinterpreted Erjuk, renaming it ‘Komdi party’ [Chicken party]. While retaining social bonding and solidarity, the event now includes eating meat, drinking beer and smoking, staying up all night, dancing and sleeping under the open sky. The older generation views this cultural shift with dismay, seeing it as the unintended consequence of their urban clients.

Multi-modality for learning and knowledge exchange

Key examples associated with the changing livelihood contexts that demonstrate the variations in the everyday lives of both generations of participants include extensive use of mobile smartphones and digital technology to promote their business. The younger participants used functional English, a little French and Spanish, enough to converse with foreign tourists and made video recordings of cooking local recipes.

As discussed earlier, literacy as a status symbol is often linked to identity. A young indigenous farmer studying in an urban university is perceived as well off and well respected in the community compared to a local government college-educated youth. The symbolic value of literacy has also shaped normative behaviours and practices in this indigenous community. However, the changing context has also led to shifting practices and symbolic values. For example, reverse migration is common due to the growth of ecotourism. Earlier younger generations had no agriculture-related aspirations. However, they now see a renewed value in agri-businesses and are using their functional literacy of wild foods and their formal education and digital knowledge. The quote below exemplifies a city-educated young boy returning to their home and contributing to their father’s homestay business.

Earlier my homestay was passed on through word of mouth. Now, these young children have created a business card and a website. He has also created a Facebook page and uploaded my picture, see. We also have delighted customers, foreigners writing all wonderful things about us (55-year-old, male).

From an intergenerational family literacy perspective, literacy follows a reverse flow, where parents learn informally from their children. In this instance, the parent acknowledges and values the functional knowledge learned from the children. Digital knowledge is shared outside formal and standardised schooled environments.

The younger generation, both boys and girls, used informal knowledge and practices in the form of uploading photos/images, previous food festival videos and links to their homestay and ecotourism websites. They also accessed various agriculture-related government Apps featuring resources and loans for alternative rural income generation, such as loans for a camping tent and hiking equipment. Thus, they employed multi-modality and digital functional literacy to navigate the shift from a purely agrarian to a business economy.

In 2015, the Government of India launched the Digital India campaign to provide government services to citizens electronically, making them accessible through improved high-speed internet connectivity and infrastructure in rural India particularly. The overall vision was to achieve digital empowerment through universal digital literacy. Looking at its practical implications in the context of Kakadwadi, one of the elderly respondents shared how difficult it was for him to apply for government-allocated funding to purchase tank irrigation materials. The forms were meant to be completed online. The instructions were in English. The person did not own a computer and had no idea how to navigate the internet. Thus, the person in most needs of those resources was the least able to avail themselves of the support available, compounding these challenges; moreover, it can be seen how the digital revolution seems to render their everyday functional literacy even less useful.

Vernacular: the valued knowledge

This section presents the pluralities of local knowledge valued by the generations of indigenous farmers of Kakadwadi. Some key themes are food choices and practices, including nutrition, traditional medicinal knowledge, and culture and identity.

Nutrition-sensitive agriculture and interventions emphasise the importance of linking household food insecurity and literacy as a cause of malnutrition (Gartaula et al. 2020). The findings here found that nutrition awareness among the participants reflected in their food choices and enacted through everyday food practices (food literacy). Describing the changes in food consumption practices of her generation and comparing them to those of the younger generation, this 70-year-old grandmother was critical of food from a nutrition perspective. She spoke of how the cooking methods and ways of dining together as a family have changed. She disapproved of the extra oil and spices used in modern-day cooking to make it look nice but render it less nutritious. She explained, ‘Poshatik nahi paan kasetari jagayache. Konda manuhan khayachya Anna. Chaw nahi, shakti pan nahi, asee pharak padalya,’ (Food has no nutritional value; it is merely a means to survive. It does not have any taste, nor does it provide any strength. It is like a husk for animal feed, not human food! This is the difference) (70-year-old female).

Similarly, another grandmother’s attitude towards current food practices is reflected in the following quote: ‘Atta ganj soney khatay, pan tathyaa nahi’ (Now they eat gold, but it is of no use) (An 80-year-old female). She uses the metaphor of gold to explain the differences between traditional food items and the modern food basket of Kakadwadi households. She believes that contemporary food choices include expensive food items, but their nutritional value is poor compared to the food basket of previous generations. In her opinion, the old socio-cultural norms and practices enhanced health and wellbeing.

India has a long and rich history of traditional medicine, the Ayurveda. Oral traditional knowledge for medicinal use remains a crucial aspect of this community, and both generations of male and female participants know the local ‘Vana Aaushadhi’ (wild medicinal plants). A 70-year-old farmer who had worked with a respected national ethnobotanist for a decade shared,

Some people still prefer our traditional local healer for minor ailments, which works. A doctor only comes once a week. Many have moved to allopathy, but some still believe in quacks too. There is a difference between superstition and traditional medicinal knowledge. Many research teams and ethnobotanists come to our village to study the plants and their medicinal properties.

Traditional medicinal knowledge was embedded in their everyday lives for preventive and curative healthcare. For example, a young male shared, ‘I drink a glass of lukewarm water with Amla extract (gooseberry) daily, and it keeps the cough away and aids my digestion.’ Another young female shared her experience of successfully using castor oil for medicinal purposes, which she learnt from her grandmother.

Likewise, traditional agricultural knowledge is regarded as a highly valuable attribute. A farmer’s knowledge about agrobiodiversity, including high-yielding seed varieties, crop patterns and diversity, agroforestry species and livestock diversity, is valued in their community. A 45-year-old farmer is called upon to examine the bulls used for ploughing. He approves, ‘Desaru ahye, kamala jasta katak astat’ (It's Desaru species of bull, resilient and strong, so good for work). The purchase of cattle, mainly oxen, is very expensive, and farmers often take loans. A 23-year-old male indigenous farmer shared, ‘Maintaining unproductive cattle is not economically viable […]. Cattle generally need lots of water, and Kakadwadi has an acute water shortage; drought is tough. […]. They need expensive fodder, not just grass to feed. It is costly even to bury the carcass when animals die.’ Thus, intimate knowledge of animal behaviour, their management, species endurance levels, and pedigree is highly valued in the community. This expertise was sought after, and neighbouring communities often invited the expert to their village cattle market, where auctions occur. Such knowledge is not just exchanged at the family level but is also valued at the community level.

Seed preservation is integral to valuing traditional knowledge systems for a farming community. Participants in this study shared traditional practices of preserving seeds, including a local seed bank and the village seed preservation group. Jagan dada has a private seed collection of nearly 300 varieties that he proudly shows the eco-tourists and talks about the resilience these local seeds have to pests. His children have taken many photographs of varieties of his seed collection and now maintain annotated records.

Another food practice valued by the older participants is upwaas (fasting). It closely resembles the modern-day science of various forms of intermittent fasting, and traditional customs differ in various regions and communities. For example, in Navaraatri [a nine-day festival to celebrate powerful Hindu goddesses and the victory of good over evil], people from all over the state come to this village to go on the Kalsubai pilgrimage, an arduous and hostile trek to the mountaintop. There are specific rules for certain foods that can be consumed and at specific times during this nine-day fasting period. The elderly generation compared the effects of the changing food practices during the upwaas period and their impact on physical and mental health. They shared that consuming fruits only and avoiding certain cereals are good for the digestive system, and upwaas help detox the body and spirit.

Navraatri gadawar astey. Dasarya la devi cha prasad astoy. Amhi sagale devi chya pudey khanar. Upwaas lai mahatavacha amchya ayushat. Amhi bhagar khayacho. Purvi bhaga niyam hotey. […]. Atta teen wela khaun lok upwaas kartat. Shengdane, batate chi vaffers, bhagar, amti and phale and kay nahi, sagale khaun mag manhe upwaas kartoy. (Navraatri festival is celebrated on the mountaintop. The tenth day – Dasra of the festival, is marked by food offerings to the deity. All of us break the fast through ritualised communal eating in front of the deity in the temple. Upwaas are extremely important in our lives. We used to eat barnyard millet. Earlier, there were rules. […]. Now people eat three times and then claim to fast. They eat groundnuts, potato chips, millet, fruits, and whatnot. After being well-fed, they claim they are fasting) (90-year-old male).

The younger generation shared that they could not observe upwaas in a traditional strict sense and practised it with some changes, for example, increased frequency of meals. Most of the younger participants credited upwaas with discipline and rejuvenation. Both generations held upwaas as an integral element of their identity and culture, which reflected in their everyday food practices.

As reported elsewhere (self-citation to a blog), changing contexts have forced the restructuring of everyday food practices. Some are retained, and others are cast away. A young female shared her thoughts, ‘Bali nako, phar vahit prathaa hotey. Khup baare zale band zale atta ithee’ (Animal sacrifice was a very evil practice, and it is terrific that it has stopped in our community). As part of animal sacrifice to the local deity, the lamb was offered for the community’s health and wellbeing; certain rituals have been abandoned, and so have the communal food festivals associated with these socially cohesive practices in performance. Nevertheless, the vernacular knowledge is highly treasured by this community.

Discussion

In this section, I return to the two conceptual starting points: literacy as a means of valuing indigenous knowledge and the informal learning and symbolic value of literacy. It explores how these insights into the everyday food practices of two generations of indigenous farmers could be an entry point for reconstructing literacy from a vernacular food perspective.

What social practices are valued and inadvertently disregarded (mainly youth’s leisure and entertainment activities or the older generation’s devotional interests) while reporting beyond the practical topics of farming and agriculture? The older generation reminisced about disappearing foods, particularly wild greens and fruits. The rules about how, where and what food was consumed have gradually changed. The community code of conduct regarding food practices around funerals and festivals has transformed. Nevertheless, the skills of functional nature (weeding, tilling, for example) continue to have a prominent role in young and old’s ‘social imaginaries’ and their ‘frames of references’ (Rogers 2014).

Several issues emerge that demonstrate the difference of opinions on what is valued as ‘useful literacy’ and agricultural knowledge while examining the informal food literacy practices (food consumption, production, seed conservation, and post-harvesting food rituals) of younger and older generations. These differences tend to challenge formal literacy models and raise questions about the implications for sustainable food systems. In line with Shove et al. (2012, 14), food practices ‘emerge, persist, shift and disappear’ in the changing context of ecotourism and livelihood opportunities in this indigenous farming village. There are multiplicities of learning spaces, including farms, mountains, village roads and temples, illustrating that all informal, non-institutionalised spaces are conducive to creating literacy. These everyday literacies enacted outside of institutions when conceptualised through Streets’ (1984) Literacy as Social Practice approaches offer the potential to broaden the definition of food literacy.

Food literacy within an Indian agricultural extension education system has received little attention. This study’s findings echo other authors’ experiences in this domain. For example, noting a fundamental gap in integrating local and indigenous knowledge systems in the mainstream agricultural extension models in Nepal, Gartaula et al. (2020, 79) conclude that,

There is no specific curriculum content, field courses or extracurricular activities to help students understand any aspects of Indigenous foods, … examination of the curricula of participating schools in our study communities showed that there were no agriculture or Indigenous food courses (covering nutritional value, production, preparation, processing, etc.) available for students. Food-related knowledge mostly came from community sources through informal learning.

What implications does this intergenerational perspective have for the enhancement of food literacy?

India’s food security landscape includes food policy and nutritional management strategies such as food fortification, public distribution system (PDS), mid-day meals, and Integrated Child, and Development Services (ICDS), amongst other programmes. There is a recognition of indigenous knowledge to a certain extent, with current commitments to sustainable food systems. However, there need to be more food literacy models being promoted in the mainstream agricultural extension models. The findings highlight the importance of including indigenous communities’ accounts of what constitutes valuable knowledge, its symbolic value, indigenous food culture, oral knowledge exchange between generations, and the socio-cultural context of food in food literacy, supporting Krause & Sommerhalder’s (2016) definition of food literacy.

Kakadwadi has a long-standing tradition of over 50 years of organising a Saptaha – key social and communal religious event spread over a week, where religious texts are orally narrated. It is a space for generational cultural encounters and knowledge exchange. Other festivals, such as Holi (the colour festival), Ganpati festival and Diwali (the festival of lights), bring people together for communal feasting. The village has a Samaj Mandir (community temple), where all these festivals are conducted. The communal food rituals are important for this community. Should we learn community mobilisation, social cohesiveness, mutual support, and general wellbeing principles from these traditional festival celebration practices and norms? Underpinned by the idea of ‘colonial education’ and its impact on overturning local knowledges and cultures that render the informal indigenous knowledge invisible (Smith 2021); this study unpacks the richness of intergenerational food practices and the local everyday literacy learning intertwined with the indigenous identity and socio-cultural norms, framing vernacular literacy as a means of valuing indigenous knowledge. There is an urgent need to acknowledge the vernacular forms of intergenerational knowledge from a sustainable food system perspective and enable the democratisation of knowledge production, granting informal learning legitimacy in the multiplicities of literacy.

The intersection or crossover of both generations brokering knowledge and creating new forms of food literacy can be ascribed to the following:

• (1) Livelihood opportunities through the newfound ecotourism business

The partial social acceptance and recognition of indigenous populations that the so-called educated, modern, and urban people are doing something right and valuable is often met with cynicism on the surface. However, a social value is placed on recognition, self-identity, and symbolic value. I argue that this everyday practice of vernacular literacy fulfils most aspects of learning and should be widely applied at policy levels.

• (2) Return migration

Non-farm income or off-farm employment has been embedded in rural livelihoods strategy in India. The agrarian crisis faced by the farmers is characterised by sluggish farm income growth rates (around 1 per cent since 2011, see (Chand, Saxena, and Rana 2015)), increasing input costs, the overall transition of the Indian economy and migration patterns, have collectively brought back the focus on rural non-farm service sectors (Tumbe 2015). Rahman and Mishra (2020), have shown that non-farm income and remittance income have positively impacted various food security indicators in India.

Informal (intergenerational) learning is context-specific, not often homogenising, as often assumed (Rogers 2014). Everyday literacies are reworked, reinterpreted, and re–enacted contextually by younger (e.g. Erjuk) and older generations (e.g. Ranbhaji Mahotsav) to produce varying outcomes, depending on their strategic interests. The outcomes of continually shifting vernacular literacies and these processes are not simply benign but offer enormous potential for empowerment through livelihoods and sustainable health and development. There is an opportunity for re-igniting youths’ aspirations for agriculture.

The Ministry of Ayush, formed in 2014 Government of India, is one of the pillars of an integrative, pluralistic healthcare policy and emphasises indigenous healthcare models. In healthcare, education, research, and practice focus on Indian traditional medical knowledge systems, including Ayurveda, Yoga and Naturopathy, Unani, Siddha, and homoeopathy as medicine systems that complement western medicine or allopathy. One of the Ministry’s key missions is to promote schemes for cultivating, promoting, and regenerating medicinal plants (Ministry of Ayush, 2022). In other words, it recognises the value of indigenous knowledge. Similarly, throughout the waves of the Covid pandemic in India, the Ministry of Ayush produced guidelines for patients and carers that included concoctions of spices combined with immune-boosting medicinal plants, recommended Yogasana (Yoga exercises) and lifestyle approaches, amongst others (Ministry of Ayush, 2022). Most of this traditional knowledge, a dimension of vernacular food literacy, is known to indigenous communities, particularly the older generation. At a policy level, the healthcare sector acknowledges indigenous knowledge and alternative systems of medicine, although the operationalisation of this education is, again, formal and institution-based. Further research is needed to investigate if other dimensions of vernacular intergenerational food literacies can create a legitimate space within similar policy frameworks. For example, an inclusive vernacular food literacy curriculum could be introduced in the State Agriculture Universities as part of India’s wider national agricultural extension education system.

Is Kakadwadi moving towards a knowledge-based economy? Is the agriculture-based economy transitioning and creating spaces and opportunities for a complementary knowledge-based economy, where social capital and knowledge-intensive leadership are valued for innovation? In that case, indigenous intergenerational knowledge about wild foods combined with digital and information technology know-how will form a valuable skill set for sustaining this indigenous community or, in Moll et al.’s (1992) words, the ‘knowledge repositories’. However, for this to be successful, vernacular food literacy needs legitimising and integrating into mainstream education policies.

Conclusion

This study highlights how informal knowledge is brokered across generations and offers a nuanced understanding of complex ‘practice bundles’ and many other dimensions of food, including intergenerational family relationships, control, identity, and wellbeing. By encouraging both generations to reflect on their everyday life, the study also documents the meanings of the mundane or the relational value bestowed on certain social practices – functional and real literacies and their implications for sustainable development.

This article offers a more nuanced exploration of two generations of food practices and what constitutes food literacies. It has conceptual and methodological implications for literacy policy design. First, it echoes the push towards legitimising informal literacy, particularly vernacular food literacy, from an intergenerational learning perspective. Second, it recommends that vernacular food literacy be embedded through a decolonial methodological approach in the education institutional curriculum or schooling. Furthermore, community-based pedagogy must be promoted at the national policy level, namely, agriculture extension education, rather than a narrow focus on didactic technical expertise-based methods. To sum up the influential role of institutions in reshaping ‘literacy’, I quote Gartuala et al. (2020, 77) ‘ … the schools create supportive space for experiential learning that weaves community – based Indigenous knowledges of local foods’.

The intergenerational farmers in this study invite us to rethink vernacular food literacy as ‘real literacies’. Shaped by a colonial past, the internalisation of text-based, formal literacy, often perceived as more valuable than oral and skills-based literacy, must be unlearned. Furthermore, the study echoes the call to include more research on food literacy from the LMCIs.

Acknowledgments

I wish to thank all the respondents who shared their experiences with me. This research was funded by the Global Challenges Research Fund as part of the Transforming India’s Green Revolution by Research and Empowerment for Sustainable food Supplies (TIGR2ESS) project under the Grant: BBSRC BB/P027970/1. I am grateful to the three anonymous reviewers for their constructive engagement with the paper. I remain thankful to Anna Robinson-Pant for her invaluable feedback on the earlier draft.

Disclosure statement

I declare that no known competing interests could influence the work reported in this paper.

Additional information

Funding

This research was supported by the GCRF/BBSRC funded TIGR2ESS programme under grant number: BB/P027970/1.