I find it interesting that when I imagine the mead-hall scene in Beowulf, I think of a drunken feast, full of boastful war-hungry men, misbehaving and primitive -- like the scenes in so many movies where men gather and drink. But when I read the above passage closely, I realize that the scene is really very different: it is a ceremonial occasion. The woman leads the ceremony, bringing the cup from retainer to retainer, mindful of custom. She is adorned as a sign of prestige and rank; she is noble; she is mature of mind, she is treated with respect. Beowulf does go on to pledge that he will defeat Grendel, the deadly foe, but it is more a solemn commitment than a vengeful boast.

Reading Beowulf reminds me, as an American of northern European descent, of my tribal, indigenous roots. In Beowulf we see European cultures in a different light, a glimpse of a time before the dominion of the colonial enterprise. As tribes of people from different areas of a larger geography, people come together to share a ceremonial cup of a ritual beverage. The people are adorned according to tradition and custom, the men are 'braves' who must prove their courage.

An old Nordic sacred story explains the origin of Mead, and further reminds me of Europe's indigenous heritage. It contains an interesting connection between the discovery of Mead and the origins of culture:

I find this story especially intriguing after having read the wonderful book One River by Wade Davis, in which he describes a scene in a Kamsa Indian household in the Colombian amazon that shows a very practical link between spitting and fermentation:

It is hard to imagine today's Americans being willing to drink a beverage made from corn that had been chewed up and spit, and impossible to imagine a department of public health that would approve such a thing. But it is an ancient traditional beverage. Its common name comes from the Spanish word chichal, meaning saliva. Among the Waorani Indians in the forest of what is now Ecuador, Davis describes another similar beverage called tepae:

At first glance we may think of European-American culture as being the complete opposite of indigenous cultures such as the Waorani or the Kamsa, and as having nothing in common with them. The idea of hunting for your meat with poison darts, masticating roots for beer, and living off the land or the forest that surrounds you seems exotic, ancient, and either romantic or primitive depending on your perspective. But when we look at an ancient beverage like Mead, we begin to see certain surprising universal connections. Wealhtheow passing the ceremonial mead-bowl to tribal leaders is not unlike indigenous ceremonies in other parts of the world. Furthermore, the fact that saliva played a roll in the story of Odin and the Mead makes me wonder if indigenous European tribes didn't also use mastication in some form of fermentation. The connection between the divine and intoxication or fermentation is also a universal theme, found in the sacred stories of peoples from every part of the world.

In industrialized modern society, we draw strict lines between foods, medicines, 'recreational' drugs, poisons, sacraments, and alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages. These categories help us to feel that we are in control of a substance, and that we understand it. We know what it is. We classify tofu as a food, prozac as a medicine, marijuana as a recreational drug, arsenic as a poison, wine in communion as a sacrament, wine at dinner as an alcoholic beverage, and coca cola as a 'soft' (non-alcoholic) drink.

I was interested to pick up a copy of the latest issue of Mothering magazine, which I did because I had heard that there was finally a semi-mainstream article challenging the use of soy products by mothers and children. The article used scientific research to make the case that soy products, which are widely viewed as a 'health' food, are potentially quite toxic, and may actually be slow poisons to many people who eat them in great quantities. On other pages in the same issue was an article about a mother who, when pregnant, suffered from such terrible morning sickness that she lost a dangerous amount of weight and her first child was born premature and underweight. In her later pregnancies, she discovered that marijuana could control her morning sickness, and by using it while pregnant she could stay healthy, gain the right amount of weight, and deliver healthy children. She has started a campaign to make 'medical' marijuana available to those who could benefit from it.

I must admit that I found myself staring at the picture of her and her family with a bit of incredulity. They looked like a mainstream, middle class American family, and she like a doting mother, not a pothead. I have my prejudices like everyone else, and while I certainly know about the medical marijuana movement, and am supportive of it on an intellectual and political level, I maintain a certain level of skepticism. I can't help but think of marijuana as a mind-altering drug, and one that is quite potent. But the article resonated for a different reason, because I had just been reading Wade Davis' books, and had begun to grasp more and more the perspective that there is a highly fluid line between drug, medicine, food, and poison. Our desperate need to categorize and control each of these 'categories' has had some truly disastrous consequences. Not only is that robust, loving mother technically a criminal, but plants that once were sacraments -- holy things that were integral parts of religious belief systems -- have become illegal commodity cash crops controlled by organized crime.

In One River, Davis looks closely at the use of coca leaves (the plant that is the source of cocaine) among the indigenous peoples of the amazon, and what he describes is really quite surprising. Davis writes about the anti-coca movement in Peru:

So coca, which was chewed by the indigenous people who used it daily, is an important food. Not only that, it was central to cultural tradition. Davis goes on to conclude:

The kind of abolitionist hysteria that has driven underground the traditional, ceremonial use of coca is one that is repeated over and over again in different forms throughout time and throughout the world. Foods and medicines and sacred plants are classified as either poisons or drugs in order to advance some economic or political agenda. The ones who lose are always the traditional people who have used the substance for countless generations. The current worldwide dominance of two American 'soft drink' companies is a powerful testament to that.

Take the story of sassafras, for example. Sassafras is a plant that was used by the indigenous people of North America (particularly in the Southeastern areas) for untold centuries. It was a medicinal herb used as a blood tonic. When Europeans settled the area, they began to use the delicious root to brew a carbonated, slightly alcoholic beverage, root beer. Traditional root beer was enjoyed for many generations, until a scientist extracted one compound from sassafras -- safrole -- and injected it in high quantities into mice. The mice got cancer and died. Sassafras was classified as poisonous as a result and it is, to this day, illegal to make root beer from sassafras unless the safrole has been chemically extracted. It hearkens back to the point Davis made above: it is absurd to conflate a plant and one of its constituents in isolation. So why was it done? One theory posits that the outlawing of sassafras was instigated by soft drink companies in an effort to eliminate the competition. If people could brew delicious 'soft drinks' at home using the wild trees of the countryside, why would they buy the factory-made ones at the store?

Another similar story is told about the kvass in Eastern Europe. Kvass, a traditional, healthy slightly alcoholic brew drunk throughout Eastern Europe was made from old rye bread and served by artisanal kvass brewers, often in communal cups. People would drink their portion of kvass and hand the cup back to the brewer, who would rinse it and then use it to serve the next customer. The soft drink industry pressured governments to make this practice illegal because it is 'unhygienic'. We might note that it is less unhygienic than brewing beer from masticated roots! In any case, the ban on traditional kvass created an instant market for Western soft drinks, which have come to dominate the markets of Eastern Europe as well as much of the rest of the world. The tradition of kvass is being lost. Recognize the name kvass? It is named for the wise creature in the Nordic story of Mead, Kvaser, the divine being sacrificed in the creation of Mead.

Meanwhile, coca cola is named for its two original active ingredients: coca leaves from the Amazon, and kola nuts from Africa. Coca leaves are still used for flavoring the beverage, though the cocaine is now extracted. The only legal trade in coca leaves is for the soft drink, all other uses and trades are outlawed. I think this is both ironic and tragic. Coca cola is considered a food, coca leaves are considered a drug. But coca cola could just as well be considered a drug (it is addictive and stimulating), or a poison (its daily use is most undoubtedly highly toxic to a human being). And coca leaves could just as well be considered a food (a primary source of calcium for indigenous peoples of the Amazon) and a sacrament (its use being ceremonial with religious implications). But there you have it. Ironic and tragic.

For myself, I am exploring that fluid line between alcoholic beverage, 'soft' drink, medicine, and 'poison.' I have been brewing my own live-culture sodas at home. Yes I've made root beer from real sassafras (illegal to sell but not to make or drink!) and kvass from both bread and beets. I've made kombucha (also called teekvass) from a pancake-like organism I was given by a fellow enthusiast that eats tea and sugar and turns it into a unique tonic ale that has been drunk for millennia in Asia and Russia. It was absolutely delicious.

Most recently I've made delicious birch beer (I got that started during the Sap Moon!) which was wonderful, and a fabulous cherry cider that was ever so slightly alcoholic due to the natural yeasts on the cherry skins. I'm currently fermenting a blueberry-lavender soda, a rose geranium and lemon verbena soda, and experimenting with culturing apricot nectar. I'm having a blast, but trying not to explode any bottles. I haven't brewed any poison yet, but I have thrown out a few bottles that looked a little iffy. And naturally, I struggle with the internalized paranoia of living in a society where the food system is dominated by factory production and health code sterility. I have to keep reminding myself of the chicha when I look at the bottles doing their mysterious bubbling on the shelves.