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Chef, educator, and food advocate Bashir Munye, whose journey spans Somalia, the U.S., Italy, and Canada, recalls his initial encounter with sorghum in his native Somalia, a grain now at the heart of his innovative approach to African food studies.
“I left Somalia when I was five years old, so my first experience with sorghum was back home as a child,” he says. “One of our traditional dishes is anjero, similar to the Ethiopian laxoox. In Somalia, we ferment sorghum to create sourdough flatbreads similar to dosa, an Indian flatbread.”
Chef Bashir views food as a connection to culture, equity, and innovation. Having traveled widely and immersed himself in various countries, their cuisines, and traditions, he understands that food represents more than just sustenance.
“As an educator focusing on African food studies, I’m deeply interested in pre-colonial African cuisine and how colonization and capitalism have influenced our food culture, often leading to consumerism.”
The Toronto-based chef explains how these perspectives shaped his theoretical framework, which he calls Afro-Culinary Futurism. “It draws inspiration from Afrofuturism, which imagines Black futures through speculative thinking, but centers food as a form of resistance, love, and cultural memory,” he says.
“My work is also informed by decolonial studies and critical race theory. Through this lens, I ask, ‘What is the future of African food? What does Black and diasporic food look like when we reimagine our relationship with land and local economies?'”
What is Sorghum
Sorghum is a versatile, gluten-free ancient grain from Africa. It can be enjoyed in various forms, such as whole grains, sorghum flour and syrup, and is also utilized for animal feed, ethanol production and alcoholic drinks.
Sorghum is also known by several names: great millet, broomcorn, guinea corn, durra, imphee, jowar and milo. It’s the fifth most significant cereal crop, following rice, wheat, maize, and barley. It grows in clumps and can reach heights exceeding 13 feet despite its small grain size, which ranges from 0.08 to 0.2 inches in diameter.
Chef Bashir regards Afro-Culinary Futurism as a crucial avenue for the future of African and diasporic cuisine, particularly emphasizing sustainability and innovation. He notes how sorghum is a perfect case study for this vision as, beyond the grain, it also offers medicinal, nutritional, and economic value.
“Botanically, every part of the sorghum plant has a purpose. While its grain is consumed in porridge, sorghum flour and flatbreads, its stems and leaves can be used as biofuel or cover crops, enriching the soil and aiding sustainable agriculture.”
He continues, “Another example is how communities in Ethiopia and Eritrea ferment it to produce a beer-like drink, demonstrating the versatility inherent in African food traditions, much like the diverse applications of potatoes or onions in Eastern European moonshine production.
Our ancestors did this, and African communities have long known these uses, far beyond what modern food systems recognize.”
The culinary instructor is a research fellow at York University’s Harriet Tubman Institute in Toronto. As part of his fellowship, he’s working on a peer-reviewed paper defining Afro-Culinary Futurism and building the first online African Food Studies Center.
This center will approach food through multiple disciplines: economics, anthropology, governance, arts, and culture, viewing food not as a single course but as a deeply integrated field of study. He hopes the center will eventually become a PhD-granting institution.
“Much like medicine intersects with various disciplines, food too should be studied through multiple lenses,” he says. “Such as governance, economics, anthropology, art, and cultural identity, I aim to build an institution rooted in African epistemologies, where food is not just a subject of study but a method of resistance, pedagogy and healing. This approach challenges the dominant frameworks of Eurocentric academia by positioning African foodways at the center, not as peripheral electives but as vital, sovereign systems of knowledge.”
Although the food history of Africa and the Black experience rightfully highlights the transatlantic slave trade and countries like Ghana, Nigeria, Togo, Benin, and Senegal, Chef Bashir warns against oversimplifying the continent into a singular narrative.
Africa includes 54 nations with unique culinary, agricultural, and historical identities. Citing political philosopher Frantz Fanon as inspiration and rooted in his anti-colonial framework, Chef Bashir views the recovery of culturally relevant cuisine as a form of resistance and a means to achieve mental decolonization and collective healing.
“Again, using sorghum as an example,” he says. “It is ancestral knowledge. Its cultivation, preparation, and uses are embedded in African histories, especially in pastoralist societies like Somalia, where agriculture was limited but sorghum and millet were vital. As nomadic Somali people, we tended camels, goats, and sheep. However, we lost our sustainable relationships with grains like sorghum due to colonization and the forced introduction of wheat. This shift impacted our health and stripped us of food sovereignty, cultural continuity and economic independence.”
The culinary advocate explains how sorghum is commodified and patented by those with no ancestral ties to its cultivation, and it’s critical to call out this appropriation. “If one’s lineage did not grow, preserve, and pass down the knowledge of a crop like sorghum, millet, or fonio, then they cannot ethically or culturally claim it. Instead, we must ask, ‘Who nurtured the land? Who held the knowledge? And how has colonization disrupted that?'”
Through Afro-Culinary Futurism, Chef Bashir is working to restore this lost knowledge as a blueprint for the future where African foodways are self-determined, environmentally regenerative and intellectually sovereign.
Sorghum Dishes
Because of its versatility, sorghum could be served in all ways across a menu. When asked what he would serve on a sorghum-forward menu, Chef Bashir answers, “I love both sweet and savory porridges. One of my favorite preparations is similar to what you might see in Chinese cuisine, like congee, where rice is simmered in broth until it breaks down into a creamy porridge. I enjoy making versions like that, but using African ingredients. For example, I’d infused these sorghum dishes with coconut milk and maybe some vanilla sourced directly from Madagascar. Or I might swap the coconut milk for tiger nut milk, an ancestral ingredient.”
He goes on, “Tiger nut is a tuber, not a nut, though it looks like one because it’s small and striped. It grows predominantly in Ghana and Nigeria. You make the milk just like you would almond or oat milk—blend it with water and strain it, then you can add aromatics. So that would be my base for a sweet or savory porridge, or even a soup.”
So, how do you cook sorghum for the main course? “Since I’m based in Ontario, I’d probably serve a local white fish like pickerel, crusted with whole sorghum seeds and roasted, paired with a tamarind sauce and a sorghum beer. And I’d take that same sorghum and make a custard—smooth, creamy, and deeply flavorful for dessert.”
Decolonizing Sorghum
Chef Bashir also serves as an advisor for the Toronto Black Food Sovereignty Working Group, the first of its kind in Canada. “The city of Toronto supports it through an initiative called Confronting Anti-Black Racism,” he explains.
“They’ve conducted vital research and published a policy paper highlighting the disparities in food security within Black households. According to a University of Toronto study, 31% of Black households experience food insecurity, which is disproportionately high.”
He notes the financial complexity tied to capitalism and consumerism and how colonization and enslavement stripped African nations of their food systems. “Colonizers replaced diverse Indigenous crops with cash crops—cotton, corn, soy, and sugarcane—grown not for nourishment but for export,” he says.
“That shift uprooted generations of food sovereignty and degraded land that was once carefully tended for mutual care and sustenance.”
The lost knowledge holders, the elders and griots who carried this ancestral agricultural wisdom, are also a consequence of colonization. “Many have passed, and their knowledge is disappearing. As a result, whole communities have forgotten the skills and practices needed to be food sovereign and self-sustaining—skills that allowed us to feed ourselves for thousands of years without relying on NGOs or foreign aid.”
While cultivating sorghum in North America is possible, Chef Bashir stresses the need for an anti-colonial perspective that recognizes the Indigenous heritage of the land. “The historical displacement complicates Black people’s efforts to achieve food sovereignty without addressing the intricate history of dispossession,” he says. “Reestablishing a connection to the land is not a neutral act. Language is important, and we must avoid replicating colonial behaviors in our aspirations.”
Harvesting sorghum is labor-intensive, and in many African communities, particularly in rural areas, women are the backbone of this work. “But here, in places like Southern Ontario, the economics are different,” Chef Bashir says.
“You can pay minimum wage ($17/hour) or living wage ($25/hour), but farming in Canada is still largely dominated by white landowners employing Black and brown migrant labor from the Global South—Jamaica, Guyana, Grenada and elsewhere. So, if I want to grow sorghum, millet, or fonio here, I must ask, ‘Is it economically viable for our community? Do we have the resources to plant and harvest, process, and sell it at a fair price? And, most importantly, how do we do this without exploiting people or land?'”
Lastly, Chef Bashir says that profit margins are king in hospitality, but African ancestors evaluated success differently. “We must look at a portfolio of benefits. Is the crop climate-resilient? How does it impact the land? The workers? The health of the community? The cultural identity? Growing food like sorghum must be seen as an economic activity and a practice of healing, resistance and sovereignty.”
He continues, “That’s why the Toronto Black Food Sovereignty Alliance is dedicated to ensuring Black communities achieve greater food security. However, we must ask, ‘What barriers hinder access to healthy food?’ The response consistently points to economic factors. The Toronto Black Food Sovereignty movement advocates for policy reform to empower Black communities to secure land, preferably partnering with Indigenous communities, to cultivate cash crops and culturally significant foods.
“Our ancestors taught us how to cultivate land and a nourishment philosophy, not just how to grow but also why we grow. A circular food economy encompassed ritual, healing, stewardship, and generosity. Our food traditions hold spiritual and ecological wisdom, which we need now more than ever.”
Read more about Chef Bashir Munye and his work on his website and follow him on Instagram.
