Give Us This Day

The initial inspiration for this poem came to me more than eight years ago, when I was traveling in Ghana. While there, I had the opportunity to attend performances of several classic plays I had seen in the United States (including The Sound of Music and Grease). I loved seeing the different ways these stories were translated through another culture. That got me thinking about ways of reframing the familiar, looking at the same concepts through different cultural lenses.

At the time, I was trying to eat vegetarian, which proved to be a challenge in Ghana. My nearly-daily diet consisted of rice and beans, sweet plantains, and life-changing pineapples and mangoes. My friends insisted that I try traditional Ghanaian fufu. In West and Central Africa (as well as parts of the Caribbean), fufu is a staple food, prepared by boiling starchy vegetables such as cassava root, yams, and/or plantains, which are then pounded until they have the consistency of dough. The traditional way to eat fufu is to pinch off a small portion with one's right hand, dip it into an accompanying soup or stew, and swallow it without chewing. It's a filling dish, and I was glad I tried it, although I returned to my standbys.

Around then, I had a conversation with a Ghanaian friend about the phrase "Give us this day our daily bread," a line from the New Testament passage commonly called The Lord's Prayer. We were talking about how this verse wouldn't hit home in the same way for people for whom bread is not a staple food. Half-jokingly, my friend said that the Ghanaian cultural translation should be "Give us this day our daily fufu." That was the germ of the idea for this poem. I was reminded of that conversation when my exploration of biblical passages on the theme of Harvest led me to words about bread.Recently, my career transition to freelancing fulltime as a writer has had me thinking about miraculous provision, as in the biblical accounts of God providing manna—a mysterious, edible substance that covered the ground like frost each night when the Israelites were wandering in the desert. This was their "daily bread." While most of us would prefer to be promised a lifetime supply of bread upfront, often we aren't promised a year or even a month's worth, but simply a day's worth. That measure of uncertainty presses us to trust beyond what we can see and to be expectantly present in each day we are given.