There is a particular way Algerians measure cooking ingredients, especially before a large feast. Although, mind you, it is exercised in a bit of everything. In the way that kindness supersedes self-profit, when a visitor can’t resist a fine piece of silver at the Casbah of Algiers of Alger Centre. Perhaps that’s why I returned to this image that I captured, many years ago. And if the picture is not yet quite clear for you, an internet search will tell you that merchants in the country have mastered the art of goodwill and are not afraid to strike a smooth giving balance. Perhaps, it is a trust in a higher power, a guider, the one true God. After all, if we are to speak of a God’s sacred principles, they often teach us that fortune favours the giving. Perhaps it is a deeply embedded cultural nécessaire. One that stands by the African proverb: “To raise a child, it takes a village”. In other words, we are in it together. Either way both mentions of “perhaps” are hypothetical. As clear as day. Togetherness is essential. To understand this art, I must stand in togetherness. So I stand around my family, watching as we collectively peal the green bean before that perfect handful. No precise measurement, no fiddly weigh-in on a bouncy plastic plate. it is dispersed delicately in the pot. “Meyzee b3inik*,” a voice says to me. Meaning: “Your eyes are your scale.” In go the carrots, in go the potato. And in go the rest. but wait. Just wait. Don’t you dare forget the kindness. Before you know it, oh look at that, the whole village is fed and there’s still more for tomorrow.

*3 in Arabic represents the ayn ع sound

Image: a merchant and his silver at the Casbah of Algiers